HOMEWARD-BOUND IN DIFFICULTIES.
And now--our cargo being all on board, sails bent, and hatches battened
down--we began to look forward to the homeward passage. But our
anticipations were in no sense pleasurable, for, although we had
certainly lived well while in port, we had as yet received no stores for
sea use, and we were in grievous doubt as to the intentions of our
commander in this respect. At last, when we were fully prepared to
refuse to proceed unless we saw some reasonable prospect of being fed
while at sea, a boat-load of stores came off, accompanied by a new
recruit to take the place of Charley, who was busy mat-making in Rangoon
gaol. He was an old acquaintance of mine, having been cook of a barque
called the _Gemsbok_, which lay at Auckland during one of my visits--a
fair-haired, happy-go-lucky Englishman; but a very poor sailor, however
able he might have been as a cook. He had not been half an hour on board
before he had joined us in solemn condemnation of the scanty stock of
provisions he had accompanied on board, declaring that we should all be
starved before we got home, unless we made a wonderfully rapid passage.
But, with the carelessness of sailors, we allowed our opportunity of
protesting to slip by; and next morning, we unmoored and dropped down to
Monkey Point, ready to proceed down the river. For some unexplained
reason we lay here all day doing nothing, although everything was as
favourable as it could well be for our departure. Towards evening, when
all hands were sitting on the top-gallant forecastle, enjoying the cool
and smoking the universal cheroot of Burmah, the devil entered into
Mick, and induced him to sneak down into the forecastle and search for
something to drink. He succeeded in discovering a bottle of square
gin--the cayenne and turpentine brand at twelve annas a bottle--in
Hansen's chest, which, as is customary in all ships' fo'lk'sles, was
left unlocked. Knocking the neck of it off immediately, he poured the
contents into a hookpot, and, at one draught, swallowed about a pint of
the horrible stuff. Another drink nearly finished it; and in a few
minutes he returned to our midst, not drunk, but a raving lunatic. For a
little while we were highly amused at his antics; but presently,
yelling, "Well, so long all!" he rushed to the rail with the evident
intention of flinging himself overboard. Bill--the other ordinary
seaman--and I rushed at him, dragged him back, and, after a severe
struggle, got him to lie down. Then commenced such a night of labour as
I have never experienced before or since. Every device that his mad
cunning could suggest did he try in order to take his own life. We got
not a moment's rest. Sometimes he would feign to be asleep; but, the
moment we were off our guard, he would be at it again, startling us
almost out of our wits, and giving us a fearful struggle before we could
get him quieted again. None of the others would relieve us, or lend us a
hand--nay, they cursed us for a pair of idiots that we did not let him
go, with a wannion on him. How could we? Although we bitterly resented
the utterly uncalled-for toil, we dared not relax our vigilance: both of
us feeling that, if we did, his blood would be upon our heads. And, to
add to our miseries, a land-breeze brought off mosquitoes and sandflies
in myriads, so that, in our exposed condition, we were stung almost
beyond bearing. At last, just as the first streak of dawn appeared over
the jungle, he dropped off to sleep in reality. Before we had time to
snatch the briefest doze came the strident voice of the mate, "Man the
windlass!" Of course Mick was excused--he was ill; but we, poor
wretches, who had been engaged in a life-and-death struggle with him the
whole night through, were compelled to work as if we had enjoyed our
lawful night's rest. And we were so weary! Hardly able to crawl about
from our tremendous exertions, and continually blackguarded for our lack
of smartness, it was with no kindly feelings towards Mick that we
dragged ourselves forecastlewards at breakfast-time, when, the ship
being under way and pointed down the river, we had a short spell of
leisure. Of course he sat up and looked for his breakfast, confound him!
As I handed him his coffee, I said, "A pretty fine dance you led Bill
and me last night, Mick!" "Fhwat the divil d'yez mane?" growled he. I
told him as frankly as I could; and, as soon as I had done, he said,
"Well, I alwuz tought yez wur a pair ov ---- fules, an' now oim ---- well
sure ov ut. Fhwy'nt yez let me go, ---- yer dhirty sowls t' hell?" I
answered him never a word; but swore solemnly to myself that, come what
might, I would never again move one inch to protect a drunken man from
the consequences of his own act, and I have devoutly kept that oath.
Our progress down the river was but little faster than the flow of the
tide, for there was not sufficient breeze to keep the sails full, and we
all noticed that the old man seemed to be in an unusual state of nervous
agitation. A tiny pillar of smoke astern seemed to attract most of his
attention; so palpably, indeed, did he watch it, that we began to
whisper among ourselves that he had been paying somebody with the
"fore-topsail sheet" again. And the event proved that we were right in
our surmise, for before long a steam-launch overtook us, and a
peremptory order was given from on board of her for us to lay the
foreyard aback. Our pilot immediately complied, the launch sheered
alongside, and a red-uniformed official climbed on board. His first act
was to present the skipper with a piece of paper. But that worthy had no
need to read it; he knew well enough what it contained. Then a white
man, very well dressed, came on board, and began slanging the miserable
captain in rare style. He had been at his old games again; eating and
drinking--especially drinking--at somebody else's expense during the
whole of our stay in port, and then trying to get away without paying
his bill. This time, however, matters looked serious for him, for he
had very little money, and his bill amounted to one hundred and fifty
rupees. There was a tremendous amount of haggling done before the
hotel-keeper would accept a compromise; but at last, a number of bolts
of new canvas and several coils of rope were transferred to the launch,
and with these, I have no doubt, the creditor was very well paid indeed.
But what excuse the skipper would hatch up to satisfy his owners about
those missing stores we could none of us imagine. Undoubtedly he placed
himself completely in the power of every one on board by his mean and
dishonest behaviour. As if we had only been waiting for his
discomfiture, no sooner had the launch left us than we squared away to a
spanking breeze, which took us well clear of the land before nightfall,
fairly started on our long homeward passage.
And now we all pursued a definite course of action. It was unanimously
agreed that the skipper had fairly put himself out of court, and that to
him no respect whatever was due. The officers, on the other hand, who
did their part well under these trying circumstances, were treated by
every one with that deference which was their right, and consequently
the work of the ship went on in seamanlike fashion. We were fortunate,
too, in getting out of the Bay of Bengal before the setting in of the
south-west monsoon, when the weather is unspeakably vile. Steaming
weather, variable winds, and frequent deluges of rain make life at sea
in the Bay then a burden almost too grievous to be borne. The ropes
swell so much that they can hardly be hauled through the blocks without
any weight attached to them, and the sails become like boards for
stiffness. But we had a steady northerly wind, nights of perfect beauty,
and days of unclouded sunshine; so that but for the harassing want of
good food, which attacked us as soon as we were clear of the land, our
lot was as pleasant as any sailor can ever expect. Very little work of
any kind was done beyond the necessary handling of the sails, for no
doubt the officers felt that it would be unwise to attempt too much
under the strained conditions of things.
And now in the long night-watches, when over a quiet sea, flooded with
moonlight, the sturdy old vessel glided silent as a disembodied spirit,
not a flap of a sail or creak of a rope breaking the solemn stillness, I
spent many, many hours alone communing with my own soul. The old
boy-life was fast slipping away from me, and the ugly sordidness of much
that I had endured for the past seven years was already beginning to be
mellowed by the softening haze of time. I felt deep, hungry longings for
better things--often flushing hotly in the darkness as I remembered how
I had wasted my opportunities in Australia, and again thinking wearily
how utterly friendless and alone I was in the world. I felt that if I
only had some one to work for, some one to whom my well-being was a
matter in which they took a lively interest, that I was capable even
now--in spite of my ignorance--of doing something in the world; and I
built whole cities full of castles in the air upon the most filmy
foundations. And then all my hopes and dreams would die in thickest
darkness of despair. What gleam of bright prospect _could_ there be for
me, a mere bit of driftweed upon the awful ocean of humanity, with no
destination, except that which I shared with all mankind? So I would lay
musing, looking upward into the infinite blue overhead where the
never-ceasing glory of the stars kept me most comfortable company. These
nights were a grand counterpoise to the petty discomforts and miseries
of the day, when the discontent of their lot made the men of my watch so
humpy and disagreeable that I could hardly keep out of hot water with
them. I had no books but a Bible, for which I am now most grateful,
because I read that grand old book--a literature in itself--through and
through from end to end I know not how many times. And although I know I
had not the smallest devotional intent, I am sure that the very fact of
saturating myself from such a well of English undefiled was of the very
greatest service to me. Religion, indeed, was a byword among us. We knew
that the owners of the ship were considered a highly religious firm, and
that Captain Bunker was believed by them to be a holy man. Illogically,
we transferred some of our hatred of his hypocrisy to his employers, who
were probably not in the least to blame for our sufferings. Therefore,
in the many discussions which took place in the forecastle on things in
general, the conversation usually turned upon the general worthlessness
and scoundrelism of religious people in general, and our captain and
owners in particular. There were no arguments, for we were all of one
way of thinking, and there was no one to show us any light upon the
subject. As far as I was concerned my early piety had all gone, with the
exception of an awful fear of death, in what I felt was my unprepared
(!) condition, and an utter inability to accustom my tongue to the
continual blasphemy of sailor-talk. In other directions my language was
as foul as anybody's, so that I had nothing to brag about if I had
thought of doing so. As we drew down towards the African land, the
question of food became very serious again. The flour which had been
bought in Rangoon was already almost uneatable--full of vermin of
various kinds, and of a dirty grey colour. Our cargo was not available,
being unhusked rice, or "paddy," and the meat was the worst I had ever
seen, with the exception of that in my first ship. A portion of it
boiled, and left for a few hours, became white and hard as a piece of
marble, with the exuding salt. There was an increasing monotone of
grumbling, which nothing but the lovely weather and easy times prevented
from breaking into open revolt. At last we made the land somewhere about
East London, and it began to be whispered about among us that the old
man meant going into Algoa Bay for supplies. What foundation there was
for the rumour I don't know, but it had a marked effect upon every one's
spirits, so that she was quite a different ship. Port Elizabeth had been
the _Harrowby's_ first port at the beginning of her long voyage, and
probably that had some weight in making the skipper determine to call
there again. Some of his old cronies would doubtless welcome him, for he
had not then begun to practise leaving without settling his accounts.
Whatever the cause, the confirmation of the rumour that we were going to
put in re-invigorated us, and we all showed the utmost willingness at
every task.
The weather now began to play tricks upon us: baffling winds, fogs, and
cold, raw rain replacing the idyllic climate we had so long been
enjoying. And, as we gradually crept south, more than one gale gave us a
severe drubbing--sometimes blowing us so far off the land that we began
to fear he would give up the idea of going in, after all. But when one
morning the order came to get the anchor over the bows, and bend on the
cables, all doubts and fears were silenced, and a general air of
expectancy took their place. The next night the wind veered to the
eastward, and blew hard; but under a heavy press of sail we stood in for
the land, heading, as we believed, straight for our port. All through
the night a keen look-out was kept, but nothing was seen. When the grey,
cheerless dawn broke we were still plunging shoreward through the ugly
cross-sea, making wretched weather of it, not a dry corner to be found
forrard or aft. A dense mist prevented us from seeing many ships'
lengths ahead, but that gave none of us forrard any uneasiness, as we
believed that with all his faults the old man was a fairly good
navigator. Two of us were on the look-out, peering through the grey
veil, when suddenly on the starboard bow, not more than a mile away,
appeared the tall spectre of a lighthouse, the red and white bands upon
it just visible. A chill of horror ran through us all, added to the
next moment by the appalling cry of "Breakers right ahead!" The helm was
instantly put up and the yards squared, but oh! how lazily she answered
her helm. Then the haze lifted, and, as she slowly paid off, we saw all
along our starboard beam, and apparently not a cable's length off, the
mighty foaming range of breakers that seemed hungry for us, flinging
their tops high into the air and bellowing like a thousand savage bulls.
Just as if there was some almost irresistible attraction drawing us
broadside on to that tumult of death, we crawled along, burying the
lee-rail under water with the tremendous press of sail we were carrying,
and expecting each moment to hear a crack overhead, and see some of our
spars go, sealing our death-warrant. But our end was not yet. Presently
the most despondent among us could see that we were gaining ground, and
gradually we clawed off that frightful reef out to the friendly sea
again. A good offing having been made, we stood to the westward once
more, for the lighthouse we had seen was Cape Recife, and our objective
was but a short distance to the northward of it. We had just struck the
wrong side of it, that was all. Still, with all our efforts, it was as
much as we could do to get into Algoa Bay before dark, and anchor well
to seaward of all the other vessels, in readiness to leave again.