DUE SOUTH
Perhaps an undue amount of space has been given to particularizing the
_Western Belle's_ crew, but my excuse must be that this was my first big
ship (the steamer didn't count), as well as my first long voyage. To me
it was the commencement of a new era. Hitherto I had not been long
enough on board any one ship to take much interest in either her or her
crew. The changes had been so numerous and rapid, that while I was
certainly accumulating a large stock of varied experiences, I was unable
to put them to much practical use, because I remained so small and weak.
But now I knew that, barring accidents, I was in for a twelve-months'
voyage; I should cross the "line" four times, round the Cape twice, and
return a regular "Sou'-Spainer," looking down from a lofty height of
superiority upon other sea-boys who had never sailed to the "Suthard."
When the watches had been picked I found myself under the second mate,
whom I dismissed rather summarily at the close of the last chapter,
because I shall have a great deal to say about him later on. For the
present it suffices to note that my evil genius must have been in the
ascendant, for "Jemmy the Scrubber," as we always called Mr. Cottam
behind his back, was a regular tyrant, who spared nobody, not even
himself. The men of his watch took things easily, as usual, knowing full
well that he was unable to coerce them; but I was helpless in his hands,
and he did not fail to let me know the fact. There was some compensation
for me in having Bill Smith, the sturdy apprentice before mentioned, as
my watch-mate, for he was both able and willing to lend me a helping
hand whenever possible, although of course he could not shield me from
the amiable weaknesses of Jemmy the Scrubber. Still, his friendship was
very valuable to me, and it has endured unto this day.
At the outset of the voyage I found, that if I had never earned my pay
in my life before, I was going to do so now. When there was one hand at
the wheel and one on the look-out, there were four A.B.'s, Bill and
myself, available to make or shorten sail. Consequently it became the
practice to send me up alone to loose whatever sail was going to be set
during the night, and I would go up and down from one masthead to the
other while the men did the hauling on deck. Then when the job was
finished the men retired to their several corners, more often than not
into their bunks in the fo'lk'sle, leaving me to coil up all the ropes
and then return to my post aft in front of the poop, ready to carry
Jemmy's orders when he gave any. She was a very heavy-working ship, as
before noted, making the ordinary duties of trimming sail for such a
handful of men most exhaustive; but, in addition to that, the food was
so bad that it reminded me strongly of the _Arabella_. Yet so usual, so
universal, was this shameful condition of things, that there was no more
than the ordinary quantity of "growling"; no complaints brought aft; and
things went on pretty comfortably. Of course she leaked--"made a good
drop o' water," as sailors say--but still in fine weather the pumps
would "suck" in ten minutes at four-hour intervals. But sail she
couldn't. A Rochester barge would have given her two miles in ten, and
as to "turning to windward"--that is, zig-zagging against a contrary
wind--it was a mere farce. She made so much leeway that she just sailed
to and fro on the same old track till the wind freed. Therefore it was a
weary time before we got down as far as that dreaded stretch of stormy
sea known to seamen as the "Bay," although it extends many a league
Atlantic-wards from the Bay of Biscay. Here we battered about for
several days, against a persistent south-westerly wind that refused to
let us get south, until at last it freshened into a bitter gale,
accompanied by the ugly cross sea that gives this region such unenviable
notoriety. Under two lower topsails and reefed foresail we wallowed and
drifted, watching with envious gaze the "flyers" gliding homeward under
enormous clouds of canvas, steady and dry, while we were just like a
half-tide rock, swept fore and aft by every comber that came hissing
along. Here I got a narrow squeak for my life. I was coiling up the gear
in the waist when she lurched heavily to windward, just as a green mass
of water lifted itself like a hill on that side. Before she could rise
to it, hundreds of tons of foaming water rolled on board, sweeping me
blindly off my feet and over the lee rail. Clinging desperately to the
rope I held, I waited, swollen almost to bursting with holding my
breath, but quite unconscious of the fact that I was overboard. At last
she rolled to windward again, and I was swept back by another wave,
which flung me like a swab into the tangle of gear surrounding the
mainmast, little the worse for my perilous journey. And thus she behaved
all that night, never free from a roaring mass of water that swept fore
and aft continually, leaving not a dry corner anywhere. Sundry noises
beneath the fore-hatch warned us that something heavy among the stores
had broken adrift; but it was impossible to go down and see, not only
for fear of the water getting below, but because of the accumulated gas
from the coal, which, unventilated for days, would only have needed a
spark to have blown the ship sky-high. Towards morning, however, the
weather fined down. As soon as possible the fore-hatch was taken off,
and there we found in the 'tween decks a mess awful to contemplate. The
whole of our sea-stock of salt beef and pork in tierces had broken
adrift, together with two casks of Stockholm tar, and had been hurled
backwards and forwards across the ship until every barrel was broken in
pieces. There lay the big joints of meat like miniature islands in a sea
of tar, except that, with every roll of the ship, they swam languidly
from side to side in the black flood. All hands were set to work to
collect the food--it was all we had--hoist it on deck, and secure it
there in such fashion as we could. Then it was scraped clear of the
thickest of the tar, the barrels were set up again and refilled with the
filthy stuff, into the midst of which freshly-made pickle was poured. It
was not good food before, but now, completely saturated with tar, it was
nauseous beyond the power of words to describe. Yet it was eaten, and
before long we got so used to the flavour that it passed unnoticed. This
diversion kept all hands busy for two or three days, during which the
weather was kind to us, and we gradually stole south, until the steady
trade took hold of us and helped us along into settled fine weather.
By this time all hands had settled down into their several grooves,
determined to make the best of a bad bargain. One thing was agreed
upon--that, except for her short-handedness and starvation, she was a
pretty comfortable ship. There was no driving, no rows; while the
feminine influence aft made itself felt in the general freedom from bad
language that prevailed on deck. But we were not yet low enough in
numbers, apparently. The old man, Peter Burn, who shook so much that he
was never allowed aloft, became perfectly useless. He had been an old
man-o'-war's man, living, whenever possible, a life of riot and
debauchery, for which he was now called upon to pay the penalty. At a
time of life when many men are not long past their prime, he was reduced
to childishness--a very picture of senile decay. His body, too, in
consequence, I suppose, of the foul feeding, became a horrible sight
upon the opening of more than forty abscesses, from which, however, he
seemed to feel no pain. Strange to say, his rough shipmates, who of
course had to make good his deficiency, showed no resentment at the
serious addition to their labours. With a gentleness and care that could
hardly have been expected of them, they endeavoured to make the ancient
mariner's declining days as comfortable as the circumstances would
allow, and I am sure that nowhere could the old fellow have been more
carefully looked after.
She was an unlucky ship. Her slow gait, even with favouring winds, was
something to wonder at; but, as if even that were not delay enough, we
met with a most abnormal amount of calms and light airs--hindrances that
would have made some skippers I have known unbearable to live with. But
Captain Smith was one of a thousand. Nothing seemed to ruffle his serene
good-humour. It must have been infectious, for the conditions of food
and work were so bad that a little ugly temper added thereto would
certainly have caused a mutiny. As usual I, unluckiest of urchins, was
about the worst-off person on board. Jemmy the Scrubber, unable to imbue
the rest of his watch with his own restless activity, gave me no peace
night or day. Woe betide me, if, overcome by sleep in my watch on deck
at night, I failed to hear his first call. With a bull's-eye lantern in
one hand, and a piece of ratline stuff in the other, he would prowl
around until he found me, and then--well, I was wide-awake enough for
the rest of that watch. In the half-deck I was treated fairly well,
except in the matter of food, and even that got put right in time. I
have often wondered since how four men of good standing, like our petty
officers, could deliberately cheat two boys out of their scanty share of
the only eatable food we had; but they certainly did. Every other day
except Saturday was "duff" day, when the modicum of flour allowed us was
made into a plain pudding by the addition of yeast and fat. The portion
due to each made a decent-sized plateful, and, with a spoonful of
questionable molasses, furnished the best meals we got. Now the duff for
the half-deck was boiled in a conical bag, and turned out very similar
in shape and size to a sugar-loaf. It was brought into the house in a
tin pan not wide enough to allow it to lay flat, so it stuck up
diagonally. The sailmaker always "whacked it out," marking off as many
divisions as there were candidates. So far so good. But when he cut off
his portion, instead of cutting fair across the duff, he used to cut
straight down, thus taking off half the next portion as well, owing to
the diagonal position of the duff. Then came the bo'sun, who of course
followed suit, and the others likewise, until the last two "whacks"
falling to the share of the boys was really only the size of one. For a
long time this hardship was endured in silence, until one day, at the
weekly apportionment of the sugar, much the same sort of thing took
place. Then Bill Smith broke out, and there was a rare to-do. Our
seniors were dreadfully indignant at his daring to hint at the
possibility of their being unfair, and, for some time, I feared a
combined assault upon the sturdy fellow. All their tall talk, however,
only served to stiffen his back, and, in the result, we got our fair
share of what was going.
Hitherto I had not seen any deep-sea fishing; so, when one day a school
of bonito came leaping round the bows, and the mate went out on the
jibboom end with a line, my curiosity was at fever-heat. How ever I
endured until eight bells I don't know. Once or twice the wrath of Jemmy
was kindled against me for inattention, and I got a sharp reminder of my
duties. At last eight bells struck. I had the dinner in the house in a
twinkling, and in another minute was rushing out along the boom to where
the mate had left his line while he went in to "take the sun." The
tackle was simplicity itself, consisting solely of a stout line about
the thickness of blind-cord, with an inch hook firmly seized to its end,
baited with a shred of white rag. My fingers trembled so that I could
hardly loose the neat coil the mate had left, for below me, gambolling
in the sparkling foam beaten forward from the bluff bows, were quite a
large number of splendid fish, although they did not seem nearly as
large as they were in reality. At last I got the line free, and,
bestriding the boom-end with my legs firmly locked between the jib guys,
I allowed the lure to flutter away to leeward, jerking it gently so as
to imitate a leaping squid or bewildered flying-fish. Splash! and the
graceful curve of my line suddenly changed into a straight; I had hooked
one. In a perfect frenzy of excitement I hauled madly, scarcely daring
to look below where my prize dangled, his weight fairly cutting my
hands. At last I had him in my arms, but such was the tremendous
vibration of his massive body that, although I plunged my thumbs through
his gills, I was benumbed from head to heel. All feeling left me, and my
head was beginning to swim, when I bethought me of plunging him into the
folds of the jib, which was furled on the boom. With a flash of energy I
accomplished this, falling across the quivering carcase half dead
myself. But before he was quite dead I had recovered, and, prouder than
any victorious warrior returning from the hard-won field, I bore him
inboard. I was received in the half-deck as a benefactor to my species,
for had I not provided twenty pounds of fresh food. How welcome my catch
was can hardly be comprehended by those who have never known what it
means to subsist upon beef and pork, which when dry turns white and hard
as salt itself, with the flavour of tar superadded, and that for many
weeks. The first flush of excitement over, attention was called to my
gory appearance. I had not noticed it before, but now I found that I was
literally drenched in blood, black-red from the chin downwards. What of
that? I had caught my first big fish, and nothing else mattered. Out I
went again, succeeding in a few minutes in hooking another. But one of
my watchmates must needs come interfering, and take it away from me, in
spite of my protests. I was actually bold enough to tell him that the
way he was carrying it was unsafe--the idea of me, with my five minutes'
experience, dictating to an old "shellback" like Bradley. I was right
though, for, when half way in, the fish gave a convulsive plunge and
fell, leaving his gills in Bradley's fist. I didn't say anything, but,
like the parrot, I did some tall thinking. All the fish left us
instanter, attracted doubtless by the blood of their mutilated fellow;
so, sulkily coiling up the line, I came in. There was a plentiful supper
at four bells, and, though I should now pronounce the flesh of a bonito
as dry and tasteless, then it was sweeter to me than I could express.
While it was yet in my mouth, yea! ere it was chewed, retribution
overtook me. I heard the watch on deck setting sail forward, and more
conversation ensuing upon the performance than usual. Suddenly a
shock-head thrust itself into the half-deck. The voice of Caesar said
ominously, "Tom, th' mate wanse yer!" With a thrill of dread crawling up
the roots of my hair I obeyed, following the messenger forrard. There
stood the port watch, grouped round the mate, gazing upward at the sail
they had just been setting, the jib. Well they might. From head to tack
down its whole length ran ghastly streaks and patches of gore, a sight
that made my flesh creep. "Did _you_ do that?" said the mate in an awful
tone. There was no need for any answer; my guilt was manifest. Vengeance
lingered not, and, in a few minutes, the _manes_ of my first fish were
propitiated. Lamely I retired to complete my supper with what appetite I
could muster, and to vow that the next fishing I did I would take a sack
out with me. But the evidence of my offence was permanent, surviving the
bleaching of sun, rain, and spray throughout the whole of the voyage.
My waspish little tyrant, the second mate, could hardly rope's-end me
again for the same fault; but he made it an excuse for robbing me of a
goodly portion of each day-watch below, keeping me on deck sorting the
carpet-thrums of which he was for ever making hearthrugs. Oh, how I did
hate his fancy-work and him too. But I dared not complain or refuse,
although at night I was always getting into trouble for going to sleep,
which I really couldn't help.