getting down the last of the cargo, and securing the ship's boats, along
with a hundred other matters connected with clearing the decks and
making things ship-shape, that Mark saw little of his father and the
officers, except at mealtimes; and hence he was thrown almost entirely
in the company of his mother. There were the passengers, but they, for
the most part, were somewhat distant and strange at first; but now, as
the great ship began to go steadily down channel, before a pleasant
south-easterly breeze, the decks were clear, ropes coiled down, hatches
battened over, and there was a disposition among the strangers on board
to become friendly.
They were not a very striking party whom Captain Strong had gathered
round his table, but, as he told Mrs Strong, he had to make the best of
them. There was a curiously dry-looking Scotch merchant on his way back
to Hong-Kong. An Irish major, with his wife and daughter, bound for the
same place. A quiet stout gentleman, supposed to be a doctor, and three
young German agricultural students on their way to Singapore, from which
place, after a short stay, they were going to Northern Queensland to
introduce some new way of growing sugar.
But just as the passengers were growing social, and the panorama of
Southern England was growing more and more beautiful, the weather began
to change.
Its first vagary was in the shape of a fog while they were off the
Dorsetshire coast, and with the fog there was its companion, a calm.
"One of a sailor's greatest troubles," Mr Morgan said to Mark as they
were leaning over the taffrail watching the gulls, which seemed to come
in and out of the mist.
"But capital for a passenger who only wants to make his trip as long as
he can," said Mark laughingly.
"Ah! I forgot that you leave us at Plymouth," said the second-mate.
"Penzance," cried Mark.
"That depends on the weather, young man. If that happens to be bad you
will be dropped at Plymouth, and I'm afraid we are going to have a
change."
The second-mate was right, for before many hours had passed, and when
Start and Prawle points had been pointed out as they loomed up out of
the haze upon their right, the sea began to rise. That night the wind
was increasing to a gale, and Mark was oblivious, like several of the
passengers, of the grandeur of the waves; neither did he hear the
shrieking of the wind through the rigging. What he did hear was the
creaking and groaning of the timbers of the large ship as she rose and
fell, and the heavy thud of some wave which smote her bows and came down
like a cataract upon her deck.
"Come, Mark, Mark, my lad," the captain said, "you must hold up. You're
as bad as your mother."
"Are we going to the bottom, father?" was all Mark could gasp out.
"No, my boy," said the captain, laughing, "I hope not. This is only
what we sailors call a capful of wind."
Mrs Strong was too ill to leave her cabin, but the first-mate came to
give the sea-sick lad a friendly grip of the hand, and pat poor Bruff's
head as he sat looking extremely doleful, and seeming to wonder what it
all meant Mr Morgan, too, made his appearance from time to time.
Then all seemed to be rising up and plunging down with the shrieking of
wind, the beating of the waves, and darkness, and sickness, and misery.
Was it day or was it night? How long had he been ill? How long was all
this going to last?
Once or twice Mark tried to crawl out of his berth, but he was too weak
and ill to stir; besides which, the ship was tossing frightfully, and
once when the captain came in it seemed to the lad that he looked
careworn and anxious. But Mark was too ill to trouble himself about the
storm or the ship, or what was to become of them, and he lay there
perfectly prostrate.
The steward came from time to time anxious looking and pale, but Mark
did not notice it. He for the most part refused the food that was
brought to him, and lay back in a sort of stupor, till at last it seemed
to him that the ship was not rocking about so violently.
Then came a time when the cabin seemed to grow light, and the steps of
men sounded overhead as they were removing some kind of shutter.
Lastly he woke one morning with the sun shining, and his father, looking
very haggard, sitting by his berth.
"Well, my lad," he said, "this has been a sorry holiday for you. Come,
can't you hold up a bit? The steward's going to bring you some tea."
"I--can't touch anything, father; but has the storm gone?"
"Thank Heaven! yes, my lad. I never was in a worse!"
"But you said it was a capful of wind," said Mark faintly.
"Capful, my lad! it was a hurricane, and I'm afraid many a good ship has
fared badly."
"But the _Petrel's_ all right, father?"
"Behaved splendidly."
"Are we--nearly at Plymouth?" was Mark's next question.
"Nearly where?"
"At Plymouth. I think, as I'm so ill, I'd better not go any farther.
How is mother?"
"Going to get up, my lad, and that's what you've got to do."
"I'll try, father. When shall I go ashore?"
"If you like, at Malta, for a few hours," said the captain drily; "not
before."
"At Malta!" said Mark, raising himself upon one arm.
"Yes, at Malta. Do you know where we are?"
"Somewhere off the Devon coast, I suppose."
"You were, a week ago, my boy. There, get up and dress yourself; the
sun shines and the sea's calm, and in a few hours I can show you the
coast of Spain."
"But, father," cried Mark, upon whom this news seemed to have a magical
effect, "aren't we going ashore at Penzance."
"Penzance, my boy! We had one of the narrowest of shaves of going on
the Lizard Rocks, and were only too glad to get plenty of sea-room. Do
you know we've been running for a week under storm topsails, and in as
dangerous a storm as a ship could face?"
"I knew it had been very bad, father, but not like that. What are you
going to do?"
"Make the best of things, sir. Look here, Mark, you wanted to come for
a voyage with me."
"Yes, father."
"Well, I said I wouldn't take you."
"Yes, father."
"And now I'm obliged to: for I can't put back."
"Going to take me to China?" cried Mark.
"Yes, unless I put in at Lisbon, and send you home from there, and
that's not worth while."
"Father!"
"What! are you so much better as that? Here, what are you going to do?"
"Get up directly, father, and see the coast of Spain."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
HOW CAPTAIN JACK CAME ON DECK.
"Yes, my lad, you've had a narrow squeak for it," said the first-mate,
shaking hands. "You're in for it now."
He patted Mark's shoulder as he stood gazing over the port bulwark at a
dim blue line.
"I couldn't get to you more, Mark, my lad," said the second-mate, "but
you'll be all right now. We've had a rough time."
"And to think of you coming all the way with us after all!" said the
boatswain in a pleasant growl. "Here, I'm going to make a sailor o'
you."
Mark was alone soon after, when Billy Widgeon came up smiling to say a
few friendly words, and directly after a thin pale sailor came edging
along the bulwarks to say feebly:
"I see you've been very bad too, sir. I thought once we should have
been all drowned."
Mark had an instinctive dislike to this man, he could not tell why, and
as he felt this he was at the same time angry with himself, for it
seemed unjust.
The man noted it, and sighed as he went away, and even this sigh
troubled its hearer, for he could not make out whether it was genuine or
uttered to excite sympathy.
There was some excuse, for Mr David Jimpny's personal appearance was
not much improved by the composite sailor suit he wore. His trousers
were an old pair of the captain's, and his jacket had been routed out by
the boatswain, both officers being about as opposite in physique to the
stowaway as could well be imagined. In fact, as Mark Strong saw him
going forward he could not help thinking that the poor fellow looked
better in his shore-going rags.
Then his manner of coming on board had not been of a kind to produce a
favourable impression.
"I can't help it," said Mark aloud. "I don't want to jump upon the poor
fellow, but how can we take to him when even one's dog looks at him
suspiciously."
"I shouldn't set up my dog as a model to go by if I were you," said a
voice at his elbow; and turning suddenly, with his face flushing, Mark
found that the second-mate was at his elbow.
"I didn't know that I was thinking aloud," said Mark.
"But you were, and very loudly. I don't wonder at your not liking that
man: I don't. Perhaps he'll improve though. We will not judge him yet.
So you're coming all the way with us?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad of it. Be a change for you, and for us too. This is rather
different to what we've been having, eh?"
"Why, it's lovely!" cried Mark. "I didn't think the weather could be so
beautiful at sea."
"Nor so stormy, eh?"
"I didn't notice much of the storm," said Mark. "I was too ill."
"Ah! it is bad that first attack of `waves in motion,' as I call it.
But that's all past, and we shall have fine weather, I daresay, all the
rest of the voyage. One never gets much worse weather than we have near
home."
"Was much damage done," asked Mark, "in the storm?"
"Nothing serious. We were just starting after all our faulty rigging
had been replaced. If we had been coming home after a voyage it might
have been different. One or two sails were blown to shreds, but the old
ship behaved nobly."
"I wish I had not been so ill," said Mark thoughtfully.
"So do I, my lad; but why do you speak so?"
"Because I should have liked to be on deck."
"Ah! well, you need not regret your sickness, for you would not have
been on deck. It was as much as we could do to hold our own and not get
washed overboard. That's worth looking at."
He pointed, as he spoke, to a blue line of hills away to the east bathed
in the brilliant sunshine, while the water between them and the shore
seemed to be as blue, but of another shade.
"Spain!" said Mark. "How lovely!"
"Portugal, my lad. Yes, it's pretty enough, but I've often seen bits of
the Welsh coast look far more lovely. Don't you run away with the idea
that you are going to see more beautiful countries than your own."
"Oh, but, Mr Morgan, Spain, and Italy, and Egypt, and Ceylon, and
Singapore, they are all more beautiful than England."
"They're different, my lad," said Morgan, laughing, "and they look new
to you and fresh; but when the weather's fine, take my word for it
there's no place like home."
"Oh, but I thought--"
"You were going to see Arabian Night's wonders, eh? Well, you will not,
my lad. Of course there are parts of foreign countries that are
glorious. I thought Sydney harbour a paradise when I first saw it; but
then I had been four months at sea, and the weather horrible. Hallo!
here's an old friend. He always disappears when the weather's bad, and
buries himself somewhere. I think he gets down among the stores. Mind
your dog!"
Mark caught Bruff by the collar, for he was moving slowly off to meet
Billy Widgeon, who was coming along the deck in company with a large
monkey of a dingy brownish-black. The sailor was holding it by one
hand, and the animal was making a pretence of walking erect, but in a
very awkward shuffling manner, while its quick eyes were watching the
dog.
"I've brought the captain to see you, Mr Mark, sir," said Billy
grinning. "He hasn't been well, and only come out of his berth this
morning. Here, Jack, shake hands with the gent."
"Chick, chicker--chack, chack," cried the monkey; and turning sharply,
he gave Billy's detaining hand a nip with his teeth, sharply enough to
make the man utter an exclamation and let go, when the monkey leaped on
to the bulwark, seized a rope, and went up it hand over hand in a
quadrumanous manner to a height that he considered safe, and there held
on and hung, looking down at the dog, chattering volubly the while.
"He don't like the looks on him, sir," said Billy grinning. "I told him
he was a nipper. I say, look at 'em. Haw! haw!"
The scene was curious, for as soon as Bruff was set at liberty he stared
up at the monkey and began walking round and round, while after
carefully lifting its tail with one hand, as if in dread that it might
be seized, an act which would have required a ten-feet jump, the monkey
went on chattering loudly as if scolding the dog for being there.
"What would be the consequences if we fetched the monkey down?" said the
second-mate, laughing and watching the two animals.
"Bruff would kill him," said Mark decidedly.
"He would have to catch him first, and the monkey is wonderfully strong.
But we must have no fighting. Let's see if we can't make them friends.
Can you manage your dog?"
"Oh, yes!" said Mark laughing. "I can make him do what I like. Here,
Bruff."
The dog came to him sidewise, keeping an eye on the monkey; and as soon
as Morgan saw that Bruff was held by the collar he turned to the monkey.
"Here, Jack, come down!"
The monkey paid no heed, but swung himself to and fro, straining out his
neck to peep round the mate and get a look at the dog.
"Do you hear, sir! come down!" cried the mate.
He was now so near that he could reach within a yard of where the active
animal hung, and it looked down in his face with a comical look, and
began to chatter, as if remonstrating and calling his attention to the
dog, which uttered a low growl.
"Quiet, Bruff!" cried Mark.
"If you don't come down, Jack, I'll heave you overboard."
There was another voluble burst of chattering, but the monkey did not
stir.
"Shall I fetch him down, sir?" said Billy grinning.
"Yes, but don't scare him."
"I won't scare him, sir. Here, Jack, old man, come down."
The monkey turned sharply at the sound of his voice, and chattered at
him.
"All right! I hears what you says," replied Billy solemnly; "but the
young gent's got tight hold of the dog, and he won't hurt you. Down you
comes!"
The situation was ludicrous in the extreme, for, as if the monkey
understood every word, and was angrily protesting and pointing out the
danger, he kept on chattering, and bobbed his head from side to side.
"Yes, that's all right enough," continued Billy, "but you're a coward,
that's what you are. Down you come!"
Another fierce burst of chattering, and the rope shaken angrily.
"Well, I've asked you twice," cried Billy. "Here goes once more. Down
you comes!"
If ever monkey said, "I won't," Jack did at that moment; but he changed
his tone directly, for Billy ran to the bulwarks and began to unfasten
the rope from the belaying-pin about which it was twisted, when,
probably from a vivid recollection of having once been shaken off a
rope, and apparently ignorant of the ease with which he could have
escaped up into the rigging, the monkey began to slide down, uttering a
low whining sound, and allowed the sailor to take him in his arms, but
only to cling tightly to his neck.
"Ah, it's all werry fine for you to come a-cuddling up like that! You
bit me just now."
The monkey moaned and whined piteously, and kept its eyes fixed upon the
dog, who was watching him all the time.
"Ah, well: I forgives you!" said Billy. "Now, then, sir, what next?"
"Bring him to the dog."
"But he thinks the dog's going to eat him, sir."
"Then let's teach him better," said Mark. "Here, Bruff, make friends
here."
Bruff looked up at his master and gave his tail a couple of wags. Then
turning to the monkey again he seemed lost in thought.
"He won't bite now, will he, sir?" said Billy.
"No, he's all right; but will the monkey bite?"
"Not he, sir. I should like to catch him at it. Now, Jack," he
continued, with one arm round his companion, "shake hands."
He held the animal forward toward Bruff, who was watching him stolidly,
and gave his head a shake.
This act produced a frightened start on the monkey's part, and another
burst of chattering.
"Better let him go," said Morgan. "I daresay they'll get used to one
another by and by."
"He'll do it, sir; give him time," said Billy. "Now, Jack, give us your
hand. You just pat his head. Sure he won't bite, sir?"
"Certain," cried Mark.
"It's all right: do you hear, stoopid? Ah! would you bite? You do, and
I'll chuck yer overboard. Now, then."
In spite of the monkey's struggles he forced one hand to within reach of
the dog's head, and pressed it down till he could pat it with the thin
black fingers.
Bruff whined, but he was held by the collar, and suffered the touch
without other protest, while, as if relieved by finding that his hand
was neither burned nor bitten off, the monkey made no resistance the
second time, ending by touching the dog himself, and, as if overcome by
curiosity, struggling to be free, and squatting down and examining the
interior of his new acquaintance's ears.
Bruff half-closed his eyes and made no resistance, and, cautiously
loosening his hold upon the collar but kneeling ready to seize him at
the least inimical display, Mark watched the little comedy which went
on.
For after a rigid examination of one ear, and a loud chattering,
probably a lecture upon its structure, Jack pulled the head over and
proceeded to examine the other ear, after which he made several pokes at
the dog's eyes, and held his head while he looked into them as if they
were something entirely new, all of which Bruff submitted to in the
calmest manner.
"They will not fight now," said the second-mate laughing.
It was evident they would not, for the dog suddenly leaped up and ran
away with the monkey in chase, the one big-headed and clumsy, the other
all activity and life; and for the next ten minutes they were careering
about the deck, chasing each other and in the best of companionship, the
game ending by Jack making a rush and clambering into one of the boats,
where he lay panting and gazing over the side at the dog, who crouched,
blinking up at him with his tongue out, waiting for him to come down.
CHAPTER NINE.
HOW THE STOWAWAY STOWED HIMSELF.
Glorious weather with the coasts of Africa and Europe visible together
as they passed the straits. Then lovely summer days with pleasant winds
as they sailed along the Mediterranean. The passengers were nearly
always on deck, basking in the morning sunshine or taking refuge under
the awning. The Scotch merchant took snuff; the three German students,
who all wore spectacles and seemed exactly alike, leaned over the side
in a row, smoked big meerschaum pipes, looked round-faced and bibulous,
and very often uttered the word _Zo_. The stout doctor read books all
day long; and the Irish major followed he captain everywhere, to declaim
against the injustices practised in the army. "Injustices, sor, which
have kept me down to meejor when I ought to have been a gineral;" and as
he talked Mrs Major worked with Mrs Strong, and watched her daughter,
a pretty bright girl of twelve, who passed her time between her books
and watching the three German students as she tried to recollect which
was which.
"Ah, captain," said the major to him one day, as they were all gazing at
a large steamer that was passing them easily, "you won't understand me.
You're a backward man, or you'd be in command of a fast steamer instead
of a slow sailing ship."
"Sailing ships are quite dangerous enough, major, without having
hundreds of tons of coal aboard, and a large fire roaring night and day.
Fires are risky things aboard ship."
"Not if there's a properly disciplined crew on board, sor," said the
major. "Bah!"
He cocked his cap on one side, and leaned forward to watch the passing
steamer.
"I hope we should do our duty if we did have a fire, discipline or no
discipline," said the captain gruffly, and the subject dropped.
It was a trifling incident, but it set several people on board thinking.
It was, however, soon forgotten, and with the sea, as Billy Widgeon
said, as smooth as a mill-pond, and all sail set, the great East
Indiaman continued her course, the journey now being thoroughly
enjoyable.
There were plenty of little incidents occurring to keep the trip from
being monotonous. About every twenty-four hours Mr Gregory was finding
fault with David Jimpny, who seemed to be one of those unfortunates who
never succeed. From scraps of his history, which he insisted upon
retailing to Mark when he could find him alone, it seemed that his life
had been so many scenes of trouble.
"I'm a-trying hard, sir, as hard as I can, to be a sailor, but I don't
get on. My hands never seem to manage ropes, and it's no use for Mr
Gregory to bully me. I daren't go up these rope ladders; if I did I
know I should be drowned."
In spite of this Mr Gregory one day ordered him aloft, and the poor
fellow managed to get up as high as the mainmast head, when he seemed
entirely to lose his nerve, and, letting his legs slip in between the
shrouds, he clung there with his hands clutching the ratlines, and
holding on for life.
"Go on up, sir; go on up," shouted the first-mate, and his hoarse orders
attracted the attention of the passengers. But the poor fellow did not
move, and growing tired at last, the mate ordered him to come down.
This order was of as much effect as those which preceded it, the man
remaining motionless.
"If this was only the royal navy," cried the mate, "I'd have you
spread-eagled up there and lashed to the rigging till you got used to
it. Here, where are you going, youngster?"
"Up to see what's the matter," said Mark coolly; and swinging himself up
he began to climb the rigging.
It was his first attempt, and as his feet began to make acquaintance
with the ratlines he awoke for the first time to the fact that though
they looked just like a ladder to climb it was a very different matter.
They gave and the shrouds felt loose and seemed to sway; the height
above looked terrific, and the distance below to the deck quite
startling. That clean-boarded deck, too, appeared as if it would be
horribly hard to fall upon; but a doubt arose in his mind as to what
would be the consequences if he slipped--would he fall with a crash upon
the deck, or slip part of the way down the shrouds, and be shot off into
that extremely soft place, the sea?
The idea was so startling that he glanced down at it, to see that it
looked gloriously clear and sunlit--transparent to a degree; but the
great ship was gliding through it swiftly, and he knew that he would go
down and down with the impetus of his fall, and come up somewhere in the
current to be carried far astern in the troubled water in the wake of
the ship.
How long would it take them to get down a boat? and what would become of
him while he was waiting? He could swim as boys do swim in an ordinary
way, who learn in some river or pool at school; but that was very
different to being left astern in the sea with the ship going eight or
nine knots an hour; and he felt that he would be drowned before help
could come.
Then there were the sharks!
He did not know that there were any sharks, but his brain suggested to
him that there would certainly be at least one big fellow whose back fin
would be seen cutting the water as he glided towards his victim, his
cross-cut mouth with its cruel, triangular saw-edged teeth ready; and
then there would be the water stained with blood, and as he rose to the
surface without, say, a leg, he would hear his mother's despairing
shriek, and then--
He had got up about a dozen ratlines while his imagination had painted
all that picture for him, and the result was that he set his teeth hard
and went on climbing, but thoroughly realising the while how it was
David Jimpny, the miserable stowaway, had lost his nerve, and was now
clinging above him in that absurd attitude, with his legs stuck through
between the shrouds.
Another minute and he was as high, holding on with both hands, and
listening to the buzz of voices on deck, but particularly careful not to
look down again.
"I'll think about what I'm doing," he said to himself, "and then I
sha'n't be afraid."
"Hullo! Jimpny," he said aloud, "what's the matter?" and, setting one
hand at liberty, he gave the man a slap on the shoulder.
"Don't, don't! Pray, don't touch me, or I shall fall," groaned the
wretched man.
"Nonsense! you won't fall. Get up through that hole on to the
woodwork."
"What, is it you, Mr Strong, sir?"
"Me? yes. I've come up to see what's the matter."
"Oh, take care, sir, or you'll tumble overboard."
"Nonsense! you've only got to hold tight," cried Mark to his own
astonishment, for he could not understand how the man's cowardice should
make him brave.
"I--I did hold tight. I am holding tight, sir, but I daren't move. Oh,
I do feel so giddy. What shall I do?"
"Try and be a man," said Mark. "The mate's horribly cross with you.
Here, hold tight with your hands and draw your legs out."
"I--I daren't stir," groaned the wretched man, "I should fall if I did.
My head's all of a swim."
"Yes, because you frighten yourself," said Mark.
"Now then, Strong," cried the mate, "is that fellow asleep?"
"No, sir, he's coming down directly."
"Coming down!" growled the mate. "There, take care of him and mind he
don't fall."
"You hear what he says," whispered Mark. "Come on up here. I'll go
first and show you the way."
Truth to tell Mark did not want to go any higher, but under the
circumstances he felt bound, terrible as it looked, and the remainder of
the climb over the man's head was not made any the pleasanter by the
poor wretch moaning out--