DEEP-WATER COASTING.
Landing that night was quite out of the question, for all the surf-boats
had been secured, and even had we possessed a good boat of our own
(which we did not) we could not have landed in this tumultuous bay as
ever was. So the anchor-watch was set, and everybody else turned in to
sleep the curious, uneasy sleep of the sailor just in port, after a long
series of watches at sea four hours on and off. But the earliest
surf-boat out in the morning came alongside, and took Captain Bunker
ashore. His last words to the mate were to "heave short" at noon, for he
would then be off with the stores, and we should weigh immediately. That
was all very well for him, but by ten o'clock a howling black
south-easter was blowing, and we had a full taste of the delights of
Algoa Bay. The gale blew right into the open harbour, and by noon the
scene was one of the most savage grandeur. Every vessel there was
plunging and straining at her moorings as if she must tear herself to
pieces or uproot the steadfast anchors, while great sheets of spray
often hid the labouring craft from view. Our position was dangerous in
the extreme. Vessels anchored in Algoa Bay for any length of time
always have a huge hawser bent to the cables, which, of course, has more
elasticity than chain, and to this they ride, even in the worst weather,
with comparative comfort. But we had no such device. In the first place
we had no hawser fit for it, in the next we had made no preparations for
such an emergency. So all that we could do was just to give her all the
chain we had got on a single anchor, and stand-by to let go the other
one in case of the first one carrying away. For hours we watched that
tortured windlass, and listened to the horrible grind of the massive
links around the iron-shod barrel thereof, wondering each moment whether
the next would be the last or not. Again we were spared, although
better-prepared vessels than ours came to grief, piling their poor
remains up among the many other relics scattered about that ravenous
shore. By nightfall the wind had taken off greatly, although the old sea
still kept her leaping and curtseying like a lunatic, and made our sleep
a mere pretence. And we all felt sure that our reverend skipper was
snugly ensconced in some red-curtained bar ashore, with a jorum of grog
and a churchwarden aglow; and would be rather relieved than otherwise to
know that his ship had come to grief, and thus prevented the catastrophe
that was surely awaiting him on his return home. Along about noon,
however, he hove in sight. When he came alongside the cargo he had
brought with him set all our mouths watering. There was a side of fresh
beef, two carcases of mutton, and a small cartload of potatoes,
cauliflowers, and onions. But of sea-stock there was hardly any. Three
packages comprised the whole--one of peas, one of flour, and one of lime
juice. Yet with an obtuseness that is even now a mystery to me, no one
raised any objection. The things were just hoisted on board, the boat
left, and, when the order was given to man the windlass, there was not a
dissentient murmur. Of course remarks were bandied about as freely as
usual upon the never-failing subject of the old man's delinquencies; but
that was because he stood upon the house aft, his knobbly face glowing
like a port sidelight, his hands upon his hips, and his whole bearing
that of a man whom a skinfull of whisky had put upon the best of terms
with himself. Up and down went the windlass-brakes cheerily, while Bill
and I hauled back the chain; but presently she gave a dive, and, when
she sprang upward again, there was a sudden grind of the cable, and out
flew several fathoms of it, tearing the chain-hooks from our hands, and
treating us to an extremely narrow escape of following them. Then there
was a chorus of language from the men on the forecastle. All sorts of
epithets were hurled at our unfortunate heads for our failure to hold
on. But while they yet spake, she gave another curtsey, and out went
some more. That was sufficient to indicate the kind of a picnic we were
in for, and no time was lost in rigging a big fourfold or "luff"-tackle,
which was stretched right along the deck from a stout ringbolt near the
mainmast, and the forrard end hooked on to the chain. The fall was then
taken to the after-capstan, and we two ordinary seamen, aided by the
skipper and the two boys, hove at it continually as the chain came
slowly in. As long as there was any scope of cable out, things went on
all right, but as soon as we were hove short, it looked as if some
damage was bound to ensue. Sail was loosed, ready to get way upon her as
soon as the anchor was off the ground, she all the time straining and
jumping at her cable like some infuriated wild beast. At last she dipped
her bows right to the level of an incoming swell, which, as it passed
under her forefoot, flung her high in air. There was a rending crash, a
shower of sparks, and she was free. "Anchor's gone, sir!" shouted the
mate, springing off the forecastle amid a chorus of "---- good job, too,"
from all hands. As hard as we could pelt we got the sail on her, and in
a few minutes were outside the Bay, the loose end of the parted cable
hanging at the bows. So closed our expensive visit to Port Elizabeth,
and before nightfall we were under all canvas, slipping down towards the
Cape with the favouring current and wind at a great rate, our starboard
anchor still hanging over the bows. All minor discomforts were
forgotten, however, in the glorious feed provided for us by the cook.
While we were revelling in the good fresh mutton and vegetables, that
worthy came into the forecastle, and received our congratulations with
the self-satisfied air of one who feels that he has deserved well of his
fellows. Presently he informed us confidentially that he had received no
orders as to the disposal of the provisions, and that it was therefore
his fixed determination to serve them out to all hands, both forrard and
aft, impartially, as long as they lasted. He kept his word right
manfully. For a week, during which we hugged the land right round the
Cape with the anchor still outboard, we lived as we had never done since
we left Sydney. Our gaunt faces filled up their sombre hollows, our
shrunken muscles developed, and we grew skittish as young colts. Then,
without warning, our luxuries all ceased, and the same grim state of
privation set in as before.
As I have so often experienced since, we took a steady southerly wind
right off the pitch of the Cape, before which we hurried homewards under
every rag of sail we could muster--every hour bringing us nearer home.
According to all the established rules on board ship, we should now have
begun that general "redding-up" to which every homeward-bounder is
subjected as soon as she gets into the south-east trades. Thanks,
however, to our skipper's peculiar notions of how to deal with his
owners' property, we had no new ratline stuff on board wherewith to
"rattle down"--as the process of fitting new rungs to the rope-ladders
leading aloft is termed. We could not reeve new running-gear for the
same reason, or fit new footropes, or repair the "service" where chafed
out aloft. We had hardly any paint, or varnish, or tar, yet the
apprentices declared that when she left home she was fully provided with
such stores for a three years' voyage--as the owners were large
ship-chandlers and never let their own ships go to sea meanly supplied.
She had been out barely two years--very little of anything had been
used--so that she was quite poverty-stricken aloft, and yet there was
nothing left to make her look respectable coming home. We all had easy
times, it is true; but that was not altogether a blessing, since
sailorizing is generally liked by seamen, who would growl like tigers at
the petty half-and-half scavenging often done on board such ships as the
_Harrowby_ under a pretence of smartening ship. So restless and
irritable did the men become that it was easy to see trouble at hand.
Only a spark was needed to kindle a big explosion. This was supplied by
the unhappy cook, who burnt most scandalously the only meal we could
really eat with any heartiness--our pea-soup. Poor wretch!--in answer to
the ferocious inquiries of the men for something to stay their gnawing
stomachs with, he could only bleat feebly that he "hadn't got nothing;
nothing at all to give 'em." They knew very well that this was true; but
our latest recruit, Sam, the ex-cook, swore he would have something to
eat or he'd know the reason why. So, snatching up the steaming kid of
soup, he rushed aft with it, and, in a voice broken with rage and
excitement, demanded the skipper of the grinning boy at the cabin door.
"Tell him I'm engaged--can't see him now!" shouted the skipper from
within. That was enough. In bounced Sam, pale with fury, and, shoving
the reeking tub of soup under the skipper's nose as he sat at the table,
hissed, "W'at kinder stuff djer think _thet_ is fer men t' eat?" Leaning
back as far as possible from the foul mess the skipper panted, "Git out
o' my cabin, yew impident scoundrel! What jer mean by darin' ter come in
'ere like thet?" Splash! and over went the kid of soup on top of the
skipper's head, which rose from out of that smoking yellow flood like a
totally new kind of Venus. The liberal anointing ran down the old man's
beard and back, even unto the confines of his trouser-legs, while he
spluttered, choked, and scooped at his eyes in utter bewilderment. As
for Sam, he stood like a statue of wrath, in full enjoyment of his
revenge, until the outraged skipper recovered his voice, and screamed
for help. Down tumbled the mate through the after-companion, but the
sight which greeted his astonished eyes fairly paralyzed him. "Seize
him! put him in irons!" yelled the skipper, "He's scalded me! th'
infernal vagbon's scalded me!" But Mr. Messenger was disinclined to
undertake the job single-handed--knowing, too, how likely it was that
any such attempt would almost certainly bring all hands on the scene
ripe for a row. Therefore, Sam, after unpacking his heart of a few
hearty curses upon skipper and ship, made good his retreat forward to
the fo'lk'sle, where his version of the encounter was received with
delirious merriment. The delight shown at this summary assault upon the
old man actually took the place of dinner, and, although no substitute
for the spoiled soup was forthcoming, nothing more was said on the
subject. When the cabin-boy came forrard that evening with his nightly
budget of stories about the common enemy, he convulsed us all by his
graphic details of the skipper's struggles to free himself from the
clinging mess congealed about him. But there was not heard one word of
pity--no, not even when Harry told us that his bald head was as red as
a beetroot. This affair kept all hands in quite a good humour for some
days, until one evening, Chips, who rarely left his lonely den, came
mysteriously into the fo'lk'sle and said oracularly, "Boys, we ort ter
be gittin' pretty cluss ter Sant Elener. I don't blieve th' ole man means
ter sight it at all; but if he don't we shall all be starved ter death
afore we cross the line. _I_ think we ort ter go aft in a body 'n tell
him 'at we ain't er-goin' ter do another hand's turn less he goes in 'n
gits some grub ter carry us home." All agreed at once, and the time for
our ultimatum was fixed for the next day at noon. But I happened to be
doing some trivial job on the main-royal yard next morning, and, before
coming down, took, as I usually did, a long look all round the horizon.
And I saw far aft on the port quarter the massive outlines of the island
of St. Helena, fully thirty or forty miles away. This so excited me that
I could not wait to descend in the usual leisurely fashion, but,
gripping the royal backstay, came sliding to the deck like a monkey.
Without losing a minute I rushed forrard and told my news. There was no
longer delay. Headed by the carpenter, all hands came aft and demanded
an interview with the skipper. As soon as he appeared the option was
given him of either going in to St. Helena, or sailing the ship himself.
He then informed us what was our exact position, and dwelt upon the
length of time it would take to beat back against the strong trade
blowing. Old Chips, however, was ready for him. He said at once, "Very
well, sir, why not go into Ascension?" "Oh, they won't let us have any
stores there: it's a Government dockyard, 'n they only supply
men-o'-war." "That be hanged for a yarn," said Chips; "w'y, I've had
stores there myself only two year 'n a half ago. Anyhow, cap'n, there it
is: you k'n do wot yer like, but we ain't a-goin' ter starve 'n work the
ship too." After a minute or two's cogitation, the old man replied
wearily, "Oh, very well, I'll go and draw up the happlication, an'
you'll all 'ave ter sign it." Artful old curmudgeon! Still, we didn't
care as long as we got some grub; so, when he called us aft again and
read out the string of fabrications he had concocted, carefully omitting
all mention of our call at Algoa Bay, all hands signed it as cheerfully
as if it had been their account of wages.
But the look-out that was kept from that day forth, and the careful
calculations of course and distance every watch, I have never seen
equalled in a ship's fo'lk'sle before or since. And when at last the
rugged burnt-up heap of volcanic _debris_ appeared above the horizon
right ahead, our relief was immense. Our simple preparations for
anchoring were soon made, and our one serviceable boat cleared for
hoisting out, for, like the majority of that class of vessels, the boats
were stowed and lumbered up with all sorts of incongruous rubbish, as if
they were never likely to be needed; and the long-boat--upon which, in
case of disaster to the ship, all our lives would depend--was so leaky
and rotten, that she would not have kept afloat five minutes in a
millpond. As we opened up the tiny bay, where the Government buildings
are clustered, we saw, fluttering from the flagstaff at the summit of a
conical hill, most prosaically like a huge "ballast"-heap, a set of
flags silently demanding our business. Our set of signals being
incomplete, we could only reply by hoisting our ensign and standing
steadily in for the anchorage. But before we came within a mile of it, a
trim cutter glided alongside, and a smart officer in naval uniform
sprang on board. With just a touch of asperity in his tone, he inquired
our business, and, upon being deferentially informed by the skipper,
immediately ordered the main-yard to be laid aback while he went below
to inspect the contents of our store-room. Apparently his scrutiny was
satisfactory, for, returning on deck, he ordered the main-yard to be
filled again, and conned the ship up to the anchorage. He then
re-entered his boat and sped away shoreward, while we, as soon as ever
the ship had swung to her anchor, just clewed up the sails, and then
made all haste to get the boat into the water. As soon as this was done,
four hands and the skipper got into her and pulled for the shore; the
old man's last words being, "I 'spect I shall be back in an hour."
To while away the time, pending their return, I started fishing; but I
never want to get among such fish as they were again. Lovely in their
hues beyond belief, but with nothing else to recommend them, they tried
my patience sorely. I have since learned that they were a sub-variety of
_Chaetodon_, having teeth almost like a human being, but so keen and
powerful that they were able to sever copper-wire. After losing most of
my hooks, I at last "snooded" with a few strands of silk not twisted
together. By this means I succeeded in getting half a dozen of the
gorgeous creatures on deck. But their amazing colours, fearful
spikiness, and leathery skin effectually frightened us from eating them,
as most of us were painfully aware of the penalty for eating strange
fish. The swelled and burning head, lancinating pains, and general
debility afterwards, consequent upon fish-poisoning, make sailors very
careful to taste none but known kinds of deep-sea fish, and any queer
shape or colour among reef-fish is sufficient to bar their use as food.
At the expiration of two hours and a half our boat returned, laden to
the gunwale with bags and cases, showing plainly that here, at any rate,
the old man had not been permitted to exercise his own judgment as to
what his requirements were likely to be. In feverish haste we got the
stores on board, the skipper appearing in a high state of nervous
apprehension lest the keen-eyed watchers ashore should deem him slack in
leaving. Indeed, the report of the boat's crew was to the effect that
the skipper had been treated with very scant courtesy--not even being
allowed to say how much of this, that, or the other, he would take; and,
when he was leaving, being sternly admonished to lose no time in getting
under way, or he would certainly find himself in trouble. Such was the
haste displayed all through, that, within four hours from the time of
the officer's boarding us, we were off again, our head once more
pointing homeward.
From that time onward, until our arrival in Falmouth, we never had cause
to complain of bad food. Everything supplied us from the Naval Stores
was the best of its kind--as, of course, it should be. It filled us all
with respect for the way in which men-o'-war's men are fed, even without
the many opportunities allowed them for exchanging the service rations
for shore provisions. In consequence of this welcome change everything
on board went on greased wheels. The old man effaced himself, as usual,
never interfering with anybody, and, for a month, we were as quiet a
ship as you would find afloat. Slowly we edged our way across the belt
of calms to the northward of the Line, inch by inch, our efforts almost
entirely confined to working the ship and making sennit. By-and-bye we
came into a calm streak, where sea and sky were so much alike that it
was hard to tell where one left off and the other began: weather
beautiful beyond description, but intensely aggravating to men tired of
the ship and the voyage, and exceedingly trying to the temper of all
hands. For a week this stagnant state of things prevailed; and then, one
morning, we were all interested to find another barque within a couple
of miles of us. In that mysterious way in which two vessels will draw
near each other in a stark calm, we got closer and closer, until at last
our skipper took a notion to visit her. So the boat was got out, and we
pulled alongside of her. She was the _Stanley Sleath_ of London, from
'Frisco to London, one hundred and sixty days out. She was an iron
vessel, and never shall I forget the sight she presented as she rolled
her lower strakes out of water. Great limpets, some three inches across,
yard-long barnacles, and dank festoons of weeds, clothed her below the
water-line from stem to stern, and how she ever made any progress at all
was a mystery. She smelt just like a reef at low water; and it looked as
if the fish took her for something of that nature, for she was
accompanied by a perfect host of them, of all shapes and sizes, so that
she rolled as if in some huge aquarium. She certainly presented a
splendid field for the study of marine natural history. None of us went
on board but the skipper; but some of the watch below leaned over the
rail as we swung alongside and told us a pitiful story. Through
somebody's negligence the lid of their only water-tank had been left
off, with the result that some rats had got in and been drowned. This
had tainted all the water so vilely that no one save a sailor burning
with thirst could drink it, and nothing would disguise that rotting
flavour. The captain had his young wife on board, and she had been made
so ill that she was delirious, her one cry being for "a drink of water."
And no one seemed to have had sufficient gumption to rig up a small
condenser! It hardly seemed credible, had it not been that similar cases
were well known to most of us. We had plenty of good water, and our
skipper sent us back on board with orders to the mate to fill a
two-hundred-gallon cask, bung it up tight, and lower it overboard. We
were then to tow it back to the _Stanley Sleath_. As a cask or tank of
fresh water floats easily in the sea, this was not a difficult task, nor
were we long in executing it. It was the best deal made by our old man
for many a long day, for he got in exchange a fat sow, weighing about
fifteen stone, two gallons of rum, and a case of sugar. Followed by the
fervent thanks of her anxious commander, we rowed away from the _Stanley
Sleath_, our approach to our own vessel again being heralded by the
frantic squeals of our prize, who lay under the thwarts, her feet
securely bound but her voice in splendid working order. That evening a
breeze sprang up, and, slow as we were, we soon left our late consort
hull down. Thenceforward for nearly a fortnight we saw nothing of our
teetotal skipper. The rum had been given us in lime-juice bottles,
packed in the original case, so that nobody knew but what a case of
lime-juice had come on board. And yet, as we had an abundance of
lime-juice, we wondered why the skipper had not chosen something else in
payment for the water. The cabin-boy, as usual, got the first inkling of
the mystery. Somehow he was a prime favourite with the old man, who, I
suppose, turned to Harry in his loneliness and made something of a pet
of him, getting, in return, all his little weaknesses reported verbatim
to the fellows forrard every evening. Going to call the captain to
supper on the same evening we visited the other ship, the boy noticed an
overpowering smell of rum, and, upon tapping at the state-room door, he
heard a thick voice murmur, "'Mnor vry well shevenin'; shlay down bit."
That was enough for Harry. Peeping in, he saw the skipper lolling on his
chest, a big black bottle wedged securely down by his side, and a glass
in his hand. From that spell of drink he did not emerge until the last
of the bottles was emptied.