Very picturesque and beautiful does the Greenland fleet of the sealers
and whalers appear from any of the neighbouring hills which enclosed
Lerwick Sound in their midst, giving it the appearance of some great
Highland lake. The dark blue rippling water is to-day--as Harry gazes
on it--studded with threescore gallant ships, many of them steamers, but
each and all having tall and tapering masts. Then the bare, treeless,
rugged mountains; the romantic little town with its time-worn fort; the
boats flitting hither and thither like birds on the water, and lofty Ben
Brassa--capped in snow--looking down upon all, form a scene of
impressive beauty and quiet grandeur that once beheld is not easily
forgotten.
The town, however, like many others in this world, looks immensely
better at a distance than it does upon close inspection. The streets,
or rather lanes, are close and confined. Indeed, there is but one
principal street, which is transversed by a multitude of lanes, which on
one side lead down to the sea, and on the other scramble up a steep
hill. And in the rainy season these lanes are converted into brawling
streams which pour their roaring floods down into the tide-way.
The houses in the street are built in the Danish or Scandinavian style,
and are mostly built with their gables to the front, while at every ten
or twelve yards' distance, one of these buildings stands threateningly
forth across the path in a thus-far-shalt-thou-go sort of fashion,
giving to the street a very awkward appearance, and on dark nights
seriously endangering the noses of the pedestrians.
Harry had come by steamboat from Aberdeen, to which fair granite city he
had trudged all the way on foot. He had to harbour his funds, rich and
all though he thought himself, and I believe that during all that long,
weary walk to the city, he subsisted almost entirely on bread and cheese
washed down with milk. But he was young and strong and hardy.
He had taken steerage fare to Lerwick, and no sooner had he ensconced
himself on the locker than he fell sound asleep, and never lifted his
head for twelve whole hours.
In most books of travel by sea the author says nothing about
seasickness. This is something very real and very dreadful
nevertheless. There is no cure for it, nor ever will be, till the world
is at an end. Only its effects can be mitigated by fresh air and
exercise on deck. One must fight the fearful malady, and, as you fight
it, it will flee from you. Intending sailor-boys would do well to
remember this.
The passage to Lerwick had been a stormy one; unable to remain below,
owing to the heat and the unsavoury nature of the atmosphere, Harry had
gone on deck. It was night, but there was never a star to be seen, only
the blackness of darkness overhead, pierced by the white light that
streamed from the funnel, only the wild waves on every side, their white
crests flashing and shimmering here and there as if they were living
monsters. Sometimes one would hit the ship with a dull, dreary thud,
and the spray would dash on board, and anon the steamer would duck her
head and ship a great green sea that came tumbling aft, carrying
everything movable before it, and drenching every one to the skin whom
it met in its passage.
Poor Harry was too sick and ill to care much what became of him.
He had crawled in under a tarpaulin, and there, with his head on a coil
of ropes, fallen soundly asleep once more.
It was a painful first experience of the sea, and to tell you the truth,
even at the expense of my young hero's reputation, more than once he
_almost_ wished he had not left his Highland home. Almost, but not
quite.
And now here he was standing looking down from a hill-top, and wishing
himself safe and sound on board one of these stately Greenland ships.
But how to get there?
That was the difficulty.
There was no great hurry for a week. He had secured cheap lodgings in a
quiet private house, so he must keep still and think fortune might
favour him.
The object of the captains of these Greenland whalers in lying for a
time at Lerwick is to ship additional hands, for here they can be
obtained at a cheaper rate than in Scotland.
All day the streets were crowded to excess with seamen, and at night the
place was like a bedlam newly let loose. It was not a pleasant scene to
look upon.
Now Harry Milvaine had read so much, that he knew quite a deal about the
manners and customs of seafarers, and also of the laws that govern
ships, their masters, and their crews.
"If I go straight to the captain of some ship," he said to himself, "and
ask him to take me, then, instead of taking me, he will hand me over to
the authorities, and they will send me home. That would not do."
For a moment, but only a moment, it crossed his mind to become a
stowaway.
But there was something most abhorrent in the idea. A mean, sneaking
stowaway! Never.
"I'll do things in a gentlemanly kind of way, whatever happens," he said
to himself.
Well, anyhow, he would go and buy some addition to his outfit. He had
read books about Greenland, and he knew what to purchase. Everything
must be rough and warm.
When he had made his purchases he found he had only thirty shillings
remaining of all his savings.
As he was bargaining for a pair of thick mitts a gentleman entered the
shop and bade the young woman who had been serving Harry a kindly good
morning.
"What can I do for you to-day, Captain Hardy?" asked the woman, with a
smile.
"Ah! well," returned the captain, "I really didn't want anything, you
know. Just looked in to have a peep at your pretty face, that's all."
"Oh, Captain Hardy, you're not a bit changed since you were here last
season."
"No, Miss Mitford, no; the seasons may change, but Captain Hardy--never.
Well, I'll have a couple of pairs of worsted gloves; no fingers in
them, only a thumb."
"Anything else?"
"Come, now to think of it, May-day will come before many months, and--"
"Oh, sly Captain Hardy," said Miss Mitford, with a bit of a blush, "you
want some ribbons to hang on the garland [Note 1]. Now I daresay you
have quite a pocketful, the gifts of other young ladies."
"'Pon honour, Miss Mitford, I--"
"No more, Captain Hardy. There?" she added, handing him a little
packet, "they are of all the new colours, too."
"Well, well, well, I daresay they are delightfully pretty, but I'm sure
I sha'n't remember the names of one-half of them."
"And when do you sail?"
"Oh, I was going to tell you. The _Inuita_ is going first this year.
Will be first among the seals, Miss Mitford, and first home."
"And I trust with a full ship."
"God bless you for saying that, my birdie. Well, we're off the day
after to-morrow at four o'clock. Good-bye; come and see you again
before I sail."
And off dashed Captain Hardy of the good ship _Inuita_.
A great kindly-eyed man he was, with an enormous brown beard, which I
daresay he oiled, for it glittered in the winter sunshine like the back
of a boatman beetle.
"One of the best-hearted men that ever lived," said Miss Mitford to
Harry, as soon as he was gone; "strict in discipline, though; but his
officers and men all love him, and he has the same first mate every
year. May Providence protect the dear man, for he has a wild and stormy
sea to cross!"
Harry soon after left the shop.
"The _Inuita_," he said to himself--"the _Inuita_, Captain Hardy, sails
the day after to-morrow at four o'clock. Well, I'll try, and if I fail,
then--I must fail, that's all."
This was on a Thursday, next day was Friday. On this day it is supposed
to be unlucky to sail. At all events, Captain Hardy did not mean to.
Not that he was superstitious, but his men might be, and sure enough, if
they afterwards came to grief in any way, they would lose heart and make
such remarks as the following:
"Nothing more than we could have expected."
"What luck _could_ happen to us, when we sailed on a Friday?"
Captain Hardy was a man who always kept a promise and an appointment.
He had told his mate that he would sail on Saturday at two in the
afternoon, and his mate got all ready long before that time.
The captain was dining with friends on shore.
About half-past one a boat with two lazy-looking Shetland men pulled off
to the ship.
"Well," cried Mr Menzies, the mate, "bright young men you are! Why
weren't you here at twelve o'clock, eh? There, don't answer; for'ard
with you. Don't dare to speak, or I'll take a belaying-pin to you."
About a quarter before two another boat was seen coming off.
"More Shetlanders, I suppose," said the mate to the spectioneer.
"I don't think so. There is only the boatman and a lad, and the lad has
an oar. You never see a Shetlander take an oar, if he can help it."
"By gum! though," cried the mate, enthusiastically, "that youngster does
pull nimbly. Why he feathers his oar like one of an Oxford eight!"
"He seems a genteel lad," replied the spectioneer; "but it won't do to
tell him he rows well. Make him too proud, and spoil him."
"Trust _me_," said the mate, with a grim smile. "I'll talk to him in
quite a different fashion."
He lowered his brows as he spoke, and tried to look old and fierce.
"Boat there!" he shouted, as she was nearly alongside.
"Ay, ay, sir," sang Harry, standing up and saluting.
Harry believed this was the correct thing to do, and he was not _very_
far wrong.
"What do you mean, sir, by coming here at this time of day? The orders
were, Mr Young Griffin, that every one should be on board by ten
o'clock this forenoon; and look you here, I've a jolly good mind to
bundle you on shore again, bag and baggage."
"Don't, sir," began Harry; "I wish to--"
"Don't answer me. Up you tumble. Here, one o' you greenhorns, standing
there with your fingers in your mouths, up with the boy's bag, and send
it below."
"If you please, sir, I want to speak with the captain, I--"
"Oh, you do, do you?" sneered the mate, in a mocking tone. "He wants to
speak to the captain, does he? Perhaps he wants to make a complaint,
and say the first mate scolded him. Never been to sea before, poor boy.
Has he brought his feather-bed and his night-cap, and a bottle of hot
water to put at his feet? A pretty ticket you'd be to go and speak to
the captain."
"But, sir, I--"
"_Don't_ answer me," cried the mate, talking now in a loud, commanding
voice. "If you say as much as one word more, or half a word, I'll
rope's-end you within an inch of your life. Now for'ard you fly. Down
below till we're clear off. You are no use on deck. Only have your
toes tramped."
Harry opened his mouth to speak.
The mate made a rush for a rope.
Harry ran, and dived down the fore-hatch.
There was a little old man poking the huge galley fire and stirring soup
with a ladle at one and the same time. He had no more hair on his head
than the lid of a copper kettle, and he did not wear a cap either.
"Are you the cook?" said Harry.
"No, I'm the doctor." [Greenlandmen usually call the cook "doctor."]
"Well, doctor," began Harry, "I want to tell you something. I'm in a
very queer position--"
"Don't bother _me_!" roared the grim old man, turning so fiercely round
on him, ladle in hand, that Harry started and quaked with fear. "Don't
bother _me_," he roared, "or I'll pop you into the boiling copper, then
you'll be in a queerer position."
Harry fell back. He did not know well what to do. So he went and sat
down on a locker.
Presently past came a young sailor.
"I say, common sailor!" cried Harry.
The youth turned sharply round.
"I'm in a queer position."
The youth pulled him clean off the locker and threw him straight across
the deck, where he lay nearly stunned and doubled up.
"That's a queerer position, ain't it, eh? Well, don't you come for to
go to call me a common sailor again, drat ye."
A great mastiff dog came along and licked Harry's face, and then lay
down beside him. Harry put an arm round the noble dog's neck and patted
and caressed him.
By and by there arose on deck an immense noise and shouting, rattling of
chains, and trampling of feet, and high above all this din the merry
notes of a fiddle and a fife, playing lively airs. [When heaving
windlass or capstan in Greenland ships the fiddler is nearly always
ordered to play.]
Said Harry to himself, "It is evident they are having a dance, and no
doubt they will keep it up quite a long time. Well, there is little
chance of the ship sailing to-night. By and by I'll slip quietly up and
go straight to the captain's cabin and tell him all and ask him to take
me."
Then he began to think of home, of his mother and father, of Eily and of
Andrew--and in a few minutes, lo and behold! our hero was fast asleep.
When he awoke it was inky dark where he lay, only at some distance he
could see the glimmer of the galley fire, and see the old, bald cook
moving about at his duties.
The great dog still lay beside him, and some kind hand had thrown a rug
over the pair of them.
But the vessel was no longer still, she was slowly pitching and rolling,
in a way that told Harry, novice though he was, that they were at sea.
There was no noise on deck now, only occasionally the steady tread of
heavy footsteps was audible, or the flop-flap of canvas, or a quick,
sharp word of command, followed by an "Ay, ay, sir," and the rattling of
the rudder-chains.
"Heaven help me!" said Harry to himself. "I was in a queer position
before, I'm in a queerer now. Oh! dear me, dear me, I'll be taken for a
stowaway."
This thought so overcame him, that he almost burst into tears.
Some time afterwards there came towards him with a lantern a red-haired
and red-bearded little man. He had a kind and smiling face. He bent
down, and Harry sat up on his elbow.
"Don't move, my sonny," he said. "You'll be a bit sick, I suppose?"
"No."
"No? Well, I've brought you a bit of a sandwich, and I don't know whose
watch you're in, but we always give green hands some days' grace. I'm
the second mate, and I advise you not to turn out to-night, but just to
eat your supper and lie still till eight bells in the morning watch."
"But oh, sir," cried Harry, "I'm in such a queer position!"
"I'll remedy that," said the second mate.
Away he went, and in a minute back he came again, and in his hand a huge
flock pillow. This he placed under Harry's head and shoulders.
"There," he said, "that's a better position. Keep still and you won't
get sick, and Harold there will keep you warm."
"Is the dog's name Harold?"
"Yes, boy."
"And mine is Harry. How strange!"
"Well, there are two of you. Good-night, sonny." And off went the
fiery-whiskered but kindly little second mate.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. In Greenland ships, on May-day, there is great rejoicing, and a
garland bedecked with ribbons--every one contributing--is hung from the
stays high aloft.
Book 2--CHAPTER TWO.