"GAMMING" WITH A "HOMEWARD-BOUNDER."
When in the latitude of Cape St. Augustine, being close-hauled,
with light breezes at east-south-east a ship was "raised" in the
afternoon, under a cloud of light canvas, steering to the northward.
As she gradually neared us, she was made out by her boats and other
significant marks to be a homeward-bound whaler, and by altering her
course a little, showed her intention of passing within hail and
speaking us. The order was given to haul the mainsail up and square
the mainyard, and the good ship, arrested in her course, seemed to sit
in state, like a hostess, to receive company. The decks were cleared
up, and work knocked off at an earlier hour than usual; and the
slowly approaching stranger now became the centre of attraction, and
the subject of much argument and speculation, each of the old hands
recognizing her as some ship he knew or had sailed in, so that in half
an hour, she had been christened by more names than would have fitted
half the Nantucket fleet, which at that period was no inconsiderable
number. Old Jeff knew it was the Colossus by something peculiar about
her spritsail-yard; a very reasonable supposition, inasmuch as the
Colossus was only four months from Nantucket, outward bound, while
the copper, or rather the want of it, on the stranger's bottom, showed
unmistakable signs of at least three years' wear and tear. The cooper
was morally certain it was the Deucalion, for no other ship ever had,
or possibly could have, a pair of anchor-stocks of that shape; but
when reminded that she was only one year out, and her voyage probably
not completed, compromised the matter by the hypothesis that the
ship in sight must have spoken the Deucalion, and bought her anchor;
a case which was voted to be far more possible than probable. The
old man and his mates were thinking of all the ships that ought to
be homeward-bound at that time, and calling her first one and then
another; but the conclusion arrived at was that she must be some
"outlandishman," as the islanders then termed the New London and Sag
Harbor whalers, who defiled their ships with "right whale glue," rather
than cruise four years exclusively for sperm.
The meeting of two ships at sea is a beautiful and imposing affair.
I was deeply interested in the sight, as the stranger drew nearer
and nearer. He had hauled in his studdingsails, and brailed up both
courses, seeming at times to slide down to leeward on a declivity,
and then to stop suddenly, as if arrested by some unseen power. The
breeze was light, and the sea comparatively smooth, but I was surprised
to see how considerable her rolling motion was, even under these
circumstances. Rough-looking men, clad in garments of more colors than
the coat of Joseph ever boasted, could be seen clustered round the
bows, and stretching their heads over the bulwarks, and two or three
had climbed into the waist-boat, to get a better view. The skipper, a
large, dark-looking man, sat in the head of the labored quarter-boat,
from time to time turning his head to speak to his helmsman, and waving
his brass trumpet to enforce the order. Captain Upton, with a similar
instrument, was mounted on the taffrail, his mates standing near him,
a little in the background. The stillness, as the ships neared each
other, was unbroken now, save by the occasional rustle of a sail aloft,
or the slight washing of the water under the bows of the stranger. Some
one was seen to run forward with a spyglass, and, after bringing it to
bear for a moment upon our stern, to hurry aft again with a report to
the strange captain. The ship appeared at this moment to be heading
directly into us, as though bent on striking us amidships and running
us down. Some of us, clustered at the weather rail, involuntarily began
to draw back, fearing a collision; but again, at a wave of the dark
man's trumpet the ship, obedient to her helm, fell slowly off, so as to
pass just clear, across our stern. Silence more profound than ever.
"Who commands the Arethusa?" shouted a hoarse voice, through the brass
tube.
"Upton!" responded the other brass tube.
"Hope you're very well, Captain Upton!" said brass tube number one,
obscuring the face of the speaker like a total eclipse.
"Very well, thank you," answered tube number two in the same style.
"What ship is that, pray?"
"Mandarin, of Nantucket."
"Hope to see you well, Captain Barney."
Much muttering now ensued among our wiseacres, each of whom had known
it was the Mandarin all along, and had told all the rest so, half an
hour ago. Anybody might have known that was the Mandarin's figure-head.
All which somewhat interfered with the clear understanding of the rest
of the dialogue, which was now carried on between the brass tubes at a
furious rate. "What success?--Sixteen hundred.--What port are you from
last?--Oahu.--How long are you from home?--Forty-five days.--Got any
letters for us?--Yes. Come aboard.--Thank you, I will." A flourish of
the trumpet, and the Mandarin's crew are seen running to the braces,
as her helm is clapped a starboard, and she rounds to the wind at a
handsome distance under our lee, with her maintopsail thrown aback for
an old-fashioned "gam."
Supper is delayed for the guests to arrive; several of us dive below,
embracing the opportunity to write a few lines to our friends at home;
Old Jeff growls at us for being in such a hurry, and says there's
plenty of time between now and midnight; for we are sure to "gam" till
that time.
"Captain Barney and the old man are cronies, and they'll have to kill
all the whales in the ocean across the cabin table, before they part
company."
A light whaleboat is presently seen to drop from under the Mandarin's
lee-quarter, and comes bounding to windward under the powerful impulse
of her oars, the sturdy and regular strokes telling of old and trained
hands who wield them. A petty officer is steering, while his majesty
the captain stands firmly planted in the stern sheets, with his legs
spread apart in an attitude suggestive of an inverted letter Y, and
benignly regards his loyal subjects at the oars, who stretch to their
work in gallant style, as if conscious that they "bear Cæsar and his
fortunes." The principal impelling motive, however, is their eagerness
to levy contributions upon the "greenies." Already they imagine
themselves returning with bundles of books and papers tied up with
rope-yarns, and shirt-bosoms corpulent with new tobacco, a luxury to
which their teeth have been strangers for many a day.
"Ship in, harp'neer! way enough! Look out for the warp in the waist!"
"Halloo, old man!" says Captain Barney, as he recognizes Father Grafton
at the man-ropes, "you out here again?"
Then as his head rises above the rail, "How goes it, Upton? S'pose
you've got a crack ship here by the look of things. Well, how did you
leave old Nantucket? 'Taint sunk yet, has it?" A common question with
whalemen when they meet, and asked with as much gravity as that of the
noble Thane, Macduff, "Stands Scotland where it did?" or as though
islands were in the habit of submerging themselves every day in the
week.
A hearty greeting and hand-shaking follows, with a few hurried
questions and replies, an introduction to the other officers, and an
invitation to our mate to go on board and spend the evening with Mr.
Joy.
"Do you swap boats' crews, Upton?"
"Yes, I don't care; let them go."
So the boat is manned with a crew of Arethusas, myself among the
number, and Mr. Grafton steers himself, not yet having arrived at the
dignity of a body guard. It was nearly dark when we arrived alongside,
and as soon as the boat was on the cranes and secured, all hands made a
"grand forward movement" to supper, and I now had leisure to look about
me, and to compare the vessel and her veteran looking crew with the
Arethusa and my own shipmates.
The forecastle of the Mandarin was small, dingy and dark, even in the
daytime, having only two small decklights and no sidelights, a modern
luxury which had not then come into general use. She had boasted a
steerage in the early part of the voyage, but this had been broken up,
and all hands quartered in the forecastle--sixteen men in twelve bunks,
some of them turning in and out, watch and watch. An old battered
blubber-room lamp hung from a beam overhead, and gave just sufficient
light to make darkness visible. Two little ones, of the kind known as
"petticoat lamps," were now added, and each furnished light enough to
see that the other was burning. The old adage that "a farrier's mare
and a cobbler's wife are always slipshod" is fully verified in the case
of a whaleman's lamp; for those who supply the world with oil burn it
in its crude state.
There was room enough in the forecastle, small as it was; for not half
the crew had chests, and their goods and chattels could be compressed
into a very small compass. The supper was not exactly what would have
tempted a gourmand; still it was all that could be expected on board a
ship forty-four months from home. The cows must have gone astray, for
the supply of milk had failed: _domestic_ coffee, compounded of burnt
peas and corn, had usurped the place of the imported article; while
it was evident that the visitors, if in time for supper, had come too
late for _tea_. The bread was thickly colonized, and the salt junk
better adapted for the manufacture of fancy carved work and articles of
_virtu_ than for purposes of mastication. It was, of course, a point of
honor with us green hands to overlook these little drawbacks, and even
to affect an eccentric taste for the ancient viands; but our hosts were
not at all backward in expressing their dissatisfaction with this state
of things.
This crew were mostly "beach-combers," men who had joined the ship
during the voyage, many of them in the last port, and knew little and
cared less about the history of the voyage previous to the time they
shipped. They were full of tales of their adventures in other vessels
from which they had deserted or been discharged, and of encounters with
consuls, captains of the port, _vigilantes_, and other functionaries,
commonly regarded as Jack's natural enemies; while those luckless
shipmasters who had availed themselves of their services must have
lived in perpetual jeopardy during the time they remained on board.
I inquired of the man upon whom I was quartered at supper, "how long
the ship was out."
"That's more than I can tell you," returned the cruiser. "I've been
only four months in this hooker. There's Dan and 'Shorty,' they are the
only two men in the fo'c'stle that came from home in her. They can tell
you; all the rest of us are cruisers."
"Where did you join her?" I asked.
"In Oahu. I ran away from the Cambridge, of New Bedford, and stowed
away here in the fore peak. The 'kikos' came aboard three times,
hunting for runaway men; but I'll defy any kiko to catch _me_."
"What's a kiko?" I inquired.
"That's what they call the Kanaka policemen. They used to come down and
take off the fore peak scuttle, and look down, and shove their sticks
in; but you see they don't have but one pair of white trousers apiece,
and don't mean to get 'em dirty. But if any kiko had crawled in where I
was, he wouldn't have got out again alive."
"Why not?" I inquired, innocently.
"'Cause I'd have let daylight through him!"
I looked at the speaker reflectively, and involuntarily hitched a
little further from him on the chest, feeling somewhat doubtful of
close companionship with so dangerous a character. Yet the probability
is, this man was as arrant a Falstaff as could be found in a day's
journey.
"What made you run away from the Cambridge?"
"O, me and the old man had a row. Besides, I had been eight months
in her, and that's long enough to be in one craft. I'd like to see
the----hooker that would keep _me_ a year."
The speaker prefixed to the word hooker a sanguinary adjective, which
is not applicable to ships except after a hard-fought action.
"Do you expect to stay out the voyage in that hooker?" inquired the
beach-comber.
"Yes," said I, "I think I shall. I've been well used so far, and have
nothing to complain of. I don't see any reason to leave the ship, with
the chance of getting into a worse one."
"Ah, my lad, you're green yet. Wait awhile till you've seen more
service, and you'll get tired of staying so long in one craft. I say,
shift about and go by the cruise. Six months is plenty long enough in
one hooker."
Some of the green hands were swallowing this kind of poison by
wholesale; each one listening to a yarn of how the narrator had
humbugged a shipping master, or bullied an American "counsle," or
knocked over an officer of a ship in the discharge of his duty. The
pleasures of a drunken spree and row with the police of a foreign port
were duly set forth, and the peculiar delights of life in a calaboose
depicted in glowing colors. But this species of conversation flagged
after a time. The Mandarins boasted no musical instrument; but that
curse and abomination of the forecastle, a greasy pack of cards, was
produced, and furnished pastime for a small knot in one corner for a
short time.
Dan and "Shorty," the two "voyagers," brought up from the depths
of their chests some canes, busks, and other fancy articles or
"scrimshonting," as it is termed by whalers, ingeniously fabricated
from whales' teeth and jaw bones, some of which they were willing to
exchange for tobacco, the principal necessary of life among seamen on
long voyages, and their universal circulating medium and standard of
value. An article of traffic at sea, instead of being estimated at
so many dollars and cents, is rated at so many pounds of tobacco; a
thing which is nearly worthless is "not worth a chaw of tobacco;" a
disputed question is generally settled by betting a certain quantity
of tobacco, and a notorious romancer is often interrupted in the midst
of a thrilling story, with the inquiry, "How much tobacco have you
got?" meaning, "How much can you give us to believe it? We'll believe
anything, if you've got tobacco enough to put it through."
And yet, through all the rough entertainment there shone a vein of
politeness and deference to their guests, a certain delicacy which
never deserts the sailor, and which might be studied with profit by
many accustomed to the most courtly circles. A man who should overstep
certain bounds in his intercourse with visitors from a strange ship, or
be guilty of the slightest breach of a certain etiquette, not defined
by Chesterfield's laws, but natural and of spontaneous growth, as it
were, would be taken to task unmercifully by his shipmates; and slights
which would pass current in a fashionable evening party, with both nobs
and snobs, would never be overlooked in a whalemen's "gam."
A song was called for by somebody; the motion was seconded and
carried, _nem. con._; cards were thrown aside, "scrimshonting" articles
returned to their depositories; and after some little clamor, it was
decided that "Old Scotty," a tall, sunburned salt, who had served,
according to his own statement, in one of the maintops of his most
nautical majesty William the Fourth, should open the musical programme
with that delectable chorus, "The stormy winds how they blow, blow,
blow," which he executed after the most approved and orthodox style,
rolling up the whites of his eyes at the carlines overhead, as though
he expected that the roaring chorus in which all lands joined, would
lift the deck off, and afford him a view of the heavens. A burst of
applause followed the last verse, which I must confess I construed
to be a manifestation of joy that it was finished, and of gratitude
that there was no more of it to be endured. The Arethusas were
now called upon to respond, and after some comparing of notes and
prompting each other, Farrell struck up the time-honored confession
of the misguided Irish youth who committed matrimony at the tender
age of sixteen, and "died forlorn on Steven's Green," and afterwards
wrote his autobiography in common metre, his last earthly request
being that his pall might be borne by six disconsolate young ladies,
all dressed in white gowns and pink ribbons. This song is a stock
article with Irish and seamen, for what reason it would be hard to
tell. A stout, jolly-looking Mandarin next electrified the auditors
with the sentimental refrain of "O no, we never mention her!" with
original quavers and variations, chanted in a voice of thunder; and
was followed by Old Scotty, who rolled his eyes higher than ever as
he poured himself out in a heartrending ballad, describing the fate
of a certain Miss Caroline of Edinboro town, who at an untimely age
"shuffled off this mortal coil," and "plunged her body down," after
giving precisely _three_ shrieks for Henry, neither more nor less. This
pathetic outbreak again brought up the Arethusas in force, and the
entertainment was sustained with great vigor on both sides, the songs
being of various descriptions, and some, like newspaper novelettes,
broken off in the middle of a verse, "to be continued hereafter." Some
of the volunteer performers would have passed for good singers where
tunes were not in fashion, while others, if they had fitted all the
snatches together into one, might have furnished a medley of a highly
original character. The veritable history of that unfortunate mariner,
William Taylor, who was sent to his last account by the contents of a
brace of pistols in the hands of his slighted "ladie love," having been
caught _in flagrante delicto_, basking in the smiles of another fair
one, was interrupted at a most thrilling crisis by the cry of "Brace
forward the mainyard!" for the Arethusa had forged considerably ahead,
while both ships were lying aback. It took some time to do this, as by
a singular fatality, nobody had a watch on deck; all the men who should
by any possibility have had one had gone gamming. The _denouement_ of
the fickle Taylor's story was lost, as the helm required the singer's
services.
The last act of the evening partook much of the nature of the first,
being filled with marvellous tales of exploits, and "moving accidents
by flood," and comparison of notes touching the respective merits of
ships, captains and officers. The cry of "Haul aback" cut short several
half-finished stories, and brought everybody on deck to look at the
Arethusa, now running to leeward with a light set as a signal of recall
for her mate and boat's crew. A murmur of admiration went round among
us, at the appearance of the crack ship looming in the clear moonlight,
as, having assumed the lee position, she rounded gracefully to again,
when the boat was cleared away and manned, with hearty farewells on
both sides.
"Good-night, Joy," said Father Grafton, as he descended the man-ropes.
"Short passage home to you. Deliver my letter yourself when you get
there."
"Ay, ay," returned the Mandarin's mate. "Greasy luck to you!"
"Thank you," said Grafton. "A large whale for you to-morrow," with
the additional reservation, "and two for _us_. Let go the warp! out
oars--pull ahead!"
We arrived on board our own ship to find a scene similar to that we had
just left. Some of the Mandarins had found a congenial spirit in the
sea-lawyer Burley, and others had fulfilled their mission by "bumming"
considerable quantities of tobacco and literature from the younger
lads. Manoel and Antone had monopolized a Portuguese boatsteerer, and
formed a trio aside for a conference highly interesting to themselves
and possessing the additional merit of being unintelligible to all the
rest.
The Mandarin having run to leeward in her turn, the word was passed to
"man the boat;" and, for a wonder, they waited alongside only three
quarters of an hour. But Captain Barney was an uncommonly prompt man in
his movements; the usual standard in such cases being one hour and a
quarter.
In a few minutes, the rusty-looking ship was off on her northerly
course for "home, sweet home," bearing messages to gladden the hearts
of many interested in the fate of those on board her late consort, who
was again standing by the wind to the southward.
The first inoculation of what may be designated "salt poison" had
taken effect among our crew, and much mischief had been done by this
apparently harmless visit. Those who had hitherto been cheerful and
satisfied with all around them, now began to discover flaws and
defects, viewing things and actions through new and distorted lenses;
instituting parallels between the methods of doing the most trifling
duties on board different vessels, and discoursing nautical wisdom at
second hand with all the gravity and dogmatism of experienced tars.
Truly may it be said in connection that "comparisons are odious."