"Of course it is," said the captain. "I believe if you got two ideas in

your head at once, it would bu'st." He turned haughtily away as though

he had convinced me of the ignorance of not knowing either where Christ

was born, or which hemisphere the "Dublin" was sailing in; but for the

next few days I heard nothing more about "Mr. Jones," "philosophy,"

Scripture or geography, but had a good share of harsh-sounding orders

and snarling rebukes when about my work, and the reason of it I well

understood.

The winds were rather light and baffling in the Mediterranean, and the

ship made slow progress. But the weather was charming. Sea and sky were

of that deep blue which is world-renowned, and which make this sea

emphatically "the blue Mediterranean." Some days, so clear was the air

as almost to impress one with the idea of the vastness and emptiness of

space, and when, commonly speaking, the sky seemed to have disappeared.

But at evening little clouds would gather about and lend their bright

hues to adorn the sunset.

For a week after leaving Gibraltar things went on quietly on board

ship, and I had great hopes that the passage would end peacefully. But

it must needs be that offences come at sea, and one more row had to be

passed through before the harbor of Genoa was reached.

There was a man on board called Jake, a powerful "six-footer," and one

of the best sailors and most cheerful and active of the crew.

One afternoon, the second mate pointed him out to the captain, and

said: "That's a good man; he's as smart as a steel trap, and a willing

fellow, too."

"Yes," said the captain, "I think he is; but don't you tell him so, for

if you do, it won't last much longer."

"No fear, sir," said Mr. Howard, "I don't give compliments to sailors

very often."

That night Mr. Howard had the first watch on deck, and at about 11

o'clock the wind hauled aft a little, giving opportunity to set the

studding-sails. He gave the necessary orders at once; and Jake was the

first one to get into the rigging and mount to the foreyard to cast

the heel-lashing of the boom adrift. He was not ready with it when the

others came up with the ropes to reeve, and the second mate hurried him

up with frequent phrases, such as, "Bear a hand;" "Let's hear from you

there;" "What do you say, now?" and then asked: "What's the matter,

there?"

"The heel-lashing's jammed, sir," was answered.

"Bear a hand and clear it then," said he.

"I'm doing it as fast as I can," said the man, in a sharp, surly tone.

Mr. Howard was not accustomed to have sailors talk to him in that

style, and he gave him a round of curses, and asked him if he knew who

he was talking to.

Jake made no reply, but worked away at the lashing.

In a little while Mr. Howard hailed him again: "Are you most ready

there?"

No answer came, and a repetition of the question followed, with sundry

additions, and, as the officer thought, embellishments.

The reply this time came in the shape of a loud, clear "No!"

It is considered almost as great an insult to an officer as a man can

offer, to omit the little word "Sir," in replying to him; and this is

at the bottom of many a tale of severity, or even murder at sea.

Only stopping to utter one oath, Mr. Howard sprang into the rigging,

ran aloft and swung himself with one hand on to the foreyard. Jake,

seeing him coming, had laid out towards the yard-arm, and called out to

him: "If you strike me I'll cut your heart out!"

Ever since the stabbing affray, Mr. Howard had enlarged his stock of

pocket-tools, and now pulled out a slung-shot. Going out on the yard,

he stood on it holding on to the fore-lift with one hand, while with

the slung-shot in the other he attempted to strike Jake on the head.

He missed his mark, however, and the shot flew out of his grasp and

fell on deck. He had on a pair of thin and well-worn shoes; but with

these he kicked the man until they flew off his feet overboard. By

this time Jake had crawled in past him, and started for the deck. Upon

reaching it, he picked up a capstan bar and took his stand with it

over his shoulder, until the second mate was nearly down the rigging,

then he suddenly aimed a blow at him with all his force, intending to

knock him overboard. He was too much excited to take exact aim, and

the bar struck a ratline and broke it, grazed Mr. Howard's leg and

broke another ratline. Mr. Howard jumped upon deck, and the man turned

furiously upon him, striking at his head with the heavy oak capstan

bar, and swinging it about him in a most determined way. The second

mate dodged and retreated aft, closely pursued by Jake; and one of

the boys was so terrified that he ran into the cabin and called out

to the captain: "One of the men is trying to kill the second mate."

Capt. Streeter never slept in his bed at sea, or removed his clothes

at night; but always lay stretched out on a sofa in the cabin, with a

pistol near him, ready for a call. He at once sprang up and rushed on

deck, and there found Jake swinging the capstan bar from side to side,

and Mr. Howard eluding his blows and making vain attempts to close with

him.

"Put down that handspike!" shouted the captain.

But it swung as fast as ever; and the captain now showed more courage

than Mr. Morrison had given him credit for, by rushing at him just as

he swung his weapon to one side, and seizing it before he could return

a blow. With Mr. Howard's help he wrested it from him, and telling that

officer to hold on to him, he seized the end of the crossjack-brace

(a two and a half inch rope), and beat him over the back, until he

cried most piteously for mercy, and made many promises of future good

behavior. This did not satisfy Mr. Howard, who, as soon as the captain

had let him go, put his brass knuckles on his right hand, and striking

Jake a heavy blow, threw him to the deck. He then kneeled upon him,

clutched his throat with the left hand, and with the knuckles beat him

in the face. The man gasped out cries and entreaties, saying: "Take

him off, cap'n; take him off. Don't let him kill me." And at last the

captain had to catch Howard's arm and say to him: "I guess that'll do,

Mr. Howard. He's got enough for this time."

Jake's face was a sorry-looking object the next day, and for some days

after; and he told the mate he thought one of his ribs was broken. But

he kept at his work as well as he could, and always was particular

about answering Mr. Howard with a "Sir!"

Things went on again quietly, and in three or four days more we were

off the Gulf of Lyons. The prospect of soon reaching port cheered all

on board, and all but Jake seemed lively and even happy.

We signalized the ship "Martha Dutton," Capt. Cheever, when a day's

sail from Genoa; and it immediately after came on to blow a heavy gale

from the south-west. Capt. Cheever was an old sea-captain, and adhered

to the prudent rule of not approaching a lee shore in a gale of wind,

within less than the distance of a day's drift (say sixty miles), and

after awhile he hove his ship to, and waited for a better chance to

make the land.

Capt. Streeter kept the "Dublin" running before the wind into the Gulf

of Genoa; and as the next morning brought a head wind when he was in

sight of his port, he was very much the gainer for his attempt. When

Capt. Cheever arrived three days after him, he shook his head and told

Capt. Streeter he had done the most hair-brained act he ever knew the

master of a ship to commit.

The "Dublin" had yet one day more to wait before dropping her anchor.

The head wind lasted until she had beat up within two miles of the mole

of Genoa, and then it died away calm and continued so, with occasional

light airs from the shore. There was no anchorage, and as the ship

slowly drifted from one side of the bay to the other, we had a fine

chance to take a sea-view of the renowned city of Genoa.

It is situated at the head of the Gulf of Genoa, and at the centre

of an amphitheatre of high hills, which rise quite abruptly from the

sea. On either hand the mountainous coast stretches away in a vast

semi-circle beyond the range of vision. The snow capped Apennines

tower behind and around it, making a noble background to the beautiful

picture. The city itself rises on the steep hills, whose tops for seven

miles are lined with forts, so that from the sea almost every street

can be seen, and the tall houses and palaces mount one above the other,

giving one an impression that a slight convulsion might send them all

sliding down into the sea.

The harbor, or mole, is formed by a sea-wall extending across the

semi-circle made by the immediate hills, securing anchorage where the

vessels moor stem and stern with their own anchors.

This evening as the sun went down behind the mountains, a scene was

formed never to be forgotten. The beautiful blue sky was lit up by

brilliant clouds which, reflected in the still waters, made the sea

almost as glowing as the sky. The mountain sides took every shade of

the darker colors, while their snow-capped peaks blushed with the

crimson tints of sunset. The next morning's sunrise was also a charming

scene, but with it came what was far more acceptable, a good breeze,

and the ship was pointed towards the city. A pilot came off to meet

us, but refused to come on board, as the health officers had not yet

ascertained whether the ship had any infectious disease on board; but

he told the captain to follow his boat, and leading the way into the

mole, pointed out the spot in the quarantine ground where she should

drop anchor. The captain went ashore in a boat, and was rowed to a

flight of steps, which led into a small room with no other egress than

the door by which he entered. A narrow window opened from it into

another room where were several officials, and one of them approached

the window with a pair of tongs, and reaching them out took from the

captain the ship's papers. After smoking them in the chimney for a

minute, he ventured to inspect them. Capt. Streeter was then ordered

to return to his ship, and after a visit from the health officer, who

found everything satisfactory, order was given to air all the bedding

and clothing, to hoist the yellow flag, and remain in quarantine for

three days, when, if things still appeared well with regard to the

sanitary condition of the ship, she would be permitted to discharge.

Capt. Streeter's Yankee energy and impatience chafed a little at this

delay, but in spite of growling and swearing, he had to remain in

solitary confinement for three days, and when at last the order for

release came, and the ship was allowed to take her place in the tiers,

he went to work at discharging with an enterprise and will that created

astonishment, not only to the Genoese, but to all the fleet. Every

morning they were waked up by the song of the crew, as they commenced

at five o'clock in the morning to hoist out the tobacco, for it is

not customary in port to "turn to" until six, and all day long such

choruses as "Walk along my Sally Brown," and "Hoist her up from down

below," rang over the harbor, with all the force that a dozen hearty

negroes could give them. When the "shanty man" became hoarse, another

relieved him, and thus the song and work went along, and in a fortnight

the captain astonished and vexed the consignees by reporting his ship

as all discharged and ready for her outward cargo, whereas they had

allowed her a month's time for this, and the intended cargo of marble

had not yet arrived from the quarries at Carrara.

CHAPTER IV.

VOYAGE OF THE "DUBLIN."--(Concluded.)

Genova _la superba_ is renowned for its palaces, but, as seen from

the harbor, the buildings of the city, apart from their grand and

picturesque location, do not inspire one with much admiration.

After a visit on shore to the palaces and churches I was so charmed

with what I had seen, that I was seized with an intense desire to see

more of the renowned wonders of Italy, and I proposed to Mr. Morrison a

plan for visiting Rome, and asked him what he thought of it?

"I don't see why you can't go, if you want to spend your money in that

way," said Mr. Morrison. "The cargo is all discharged, and we've got to

wait two or three weeks for our marble, so I think you can be spared

as well as not. The only thing is to get on the right side of the old

man, and you seem to understand that pretty well."

The next day with some fear and trembling I made my proposition to the

captain, and excited the breeze I quite expected.

"I thought something of that sort would be coming soon," he said. "I

believe nobody cares a curse for the ship except myself. I like to see

my officers take an interest in their vessel, but I suppose it's of no

use to hope for it. I was mate of a ship once for two years without

setting foot on shore but once, and that was when I was sued for

breaking an old shellback's head and had to go to court. I never knew

Mr. Jones to ask for liberty all the time he was with me. He was a man

who took pride in his ship."

"I am sure I feel an interest in the ship," said I, "but I've often

heard you say yourself that going to sea is a dog's life, and I don't

see why a man should be blamed for getting clear of it when he can do

so without occasioning any disadvantage; and in this case I am sure I

shall not be missed much, for Mr. Howard and Mr. Morrison both say they

can get along without me."

"How long should you want to be gone?" asked the captain.

"About a fortnight, sir."

"Well, I'll give you a week's liberty. You may start next Monday

morning, and be on board again the Monday after."

"But that wouldn't give me time to visit Rome," said I.

"I don't care where you go to, but that's all the time you can have,"

answered the captain.

The next day I went to the Consul, and got him to procure a passport

from the minister at Turin, and on the day appointed by the captain I

procured tickets through to Rome, although I found the steamers did not

connect at Leghorn and I should have to remain there three days. But

this would give me time to go to Florence; I also knew the captain's

only motive in limiting me to a week was the usual one of discipline,

and I felt no hesitation at transgressing a little, if the question to

be decided was whether I should see Rome or not.

I went to the captain with my through tickets and told him that I

should not be able to return in time. He relented a little and said:

"Well, get back as soon as you can."

I took this last remark for my instructions and starting on my journey,

visited Leghorn, Pisa, Florence and Rome, spending eight days in

the Eternal City, and rushing about over its ruins and through its

galleries in a way that astonished the more deliberate travellers whom

I met. On the seventeenth day I again entered the harbor of Genoa,

in the morning, and being a little in dread of an explosion of the

captain's wrath I used my knowledge of his character to concoct a

little plan for shielding myself. It worked admirably.

I had made the acquaintance on board the steamer of a gentleman, the

U.S. Consul at Venice, and I invited him to go on board the "Dublin"

with me and take breakfast, assuring him of a cordial welcome from

Capt. Streeter.

I walked into the cabin and found the captain seated there. "Good

morning, sir," said I.

"Oh! you young blackguard," the captain broke forth, and pausing here

one second as he noticed the stranger in uniform who had followed, I

seized the chance to say, "This is the American Consul at Venice, sir."

"Ah! how do you do, sir; I'm very glad to see you, sir. Welcome on

board the 'Dublin;' take a chair, sir," and in the profusion of his

attention to the consul the captain quite forgot the "blessing" he had

been hoarding up for poor me during the past week, and when he at last

had time to hear my story, he only said, "I thought you'd come back

with some old sailor excuse."

I felt I had earned my visit to Rome at a cheap rate after all, and was

highly pleased at this finale. The trip made a good hole in my earnings

and at the end of a six months' voyage I found myself in debt to the

vessel.

The ship was now taking in marble in blocks, weighing from three to

five tons each. These were hoisted on board from the lighters by a

large "pontoon," which had a great pair of shears and immense tackle

at one end, and at the other a wheel and axle to heave with. The

blocks came up slowly, sometimes two or three at a time, one hanging

below the other, and as they swung over the ship and were lowered down

the hatchway, they were watched with almost breathless silence lest

something should give away and let them go down through the bottom. But

the five hundred tons were taken on board safely, and then the ship

filled up with bales of rags, cases of olive oil and boxes of maccaroni.

Capt. Streeter managed to pick a quarrel with almost every man in port

that he had dealings with. He always seemed to act on the supposition

that those he dealt with were trying to cheat him, and was not at all

backward about telling them so. The consequence was that he was always

in hot water, had a lawsuit with the consignee of his cargo, and got

the reputation, as far as I could ascertain from those who had business

with him, of being either a fool or a liar, or both.

But after all he was a shrewd man, and the result of his bullying and

lying was, that his owners had a moderate disbursement account, and he

thought that would cover a multitude of sins.

His special antagonist on shore was a Mr. Pasamotti, and having a great

inaptitude for getting hold of names, he used to amuse me sometimes at

night by relating his grievances during the day, and giving vent to

invectives against "Mr. Smashempotter."

There were a few American vessels in port. Every evening visits

were exchanged among the ships, and each officer became informed of

the exact character of every ship, whether she was a "wild boat,"

"workhouse," or "good ship;" and of every captain, whether he was a

"hard ticket," "fool," "skin-flint," or "gentleman."

There were three or four regular visitants to the "Dublin." The mate

of the "Eagle" came with long yarns about his captain's daughter, a

romping lassie, who had a flirtation underway with five different

captains, all supposed to be bachelors. The second mate of the

"Example" had curious tales of the means his captain was using to make

the crew desert the ship; and others brought stories of meanness,

tyranny, or debauchery, which made one blush for the honor of his

profession and nationality; while on the other hand, we sometimes were

favored with commendations of captains in the highest terms.

"What was that man doing hanging in a bow-line over the side of your

ship, to-day and yesterday?" asked our mate of Mr. Winthrop, the second

mate of the "Example," as several of us were seated on the poop-deck of

the "Dublin" one evening, while the captain was on shore.

"What! did you notice him?"

"Yes;" said Mr. Morrison, "I'm no friend to sailors, but I think it's a

shame to hang a fellow out all day long in that way."

"When he's got a broken back, too, eh?" said Mr. Winthrop.

"A broken back!"

"Something of the sort. But I'll tell you all about it. We've been away

from home now about nine months, and the sailors get fourteen dollars

a month, so they've got near a hundred dollars due them. Sailors are

plenty here now, and wages are only twelve dollars. Our ship can't

get a freight at present. I don't know how true it is, but one of our

consignee's clerks told me that last time our old man was here, he

cheated his broker out of a commission; and this same man is now doing

all he can to prevent the ship from chartering. He gives bad reports

about the seaworthiness of the ship, I believe; but it's a lie if he

does, for she's as able a craft as there is in these waters; I don't

care where the next comes from. When the old man found he'd got to

stay here some time, he wanted to get rid of his crew, but the consul

wouldn't let him pay them off, unless he gave them three month's extra

wages, and he thought it would be a nice thing if he could make them

run away, and put a thousand dollars or so in his own pocket, or his

owner's, I don't know which. So about a month ago he began to work

them up. He made us cockbill the lower and topsail-yards, and then

the sailors had to scrub them with a piece of canvas and a bucketful

of salt water, beginning at the lower yard-arm and scrubbing above

them all the time as they crawled up. The water of course ran down on

them, and six of them he made us keep soaking and steaming for about

a week. This made most of 'em sick, and Saturday night four of 'em

came to the old man and told him if he'd give them ten dollars apiece,

they'd go ashore. This he did, and made four hundred dollars out of the

operation; and I tell you what, if ever men earned their wages those

fellows have done it since they've been aboard of that packet, for

they've been worked like jackasses day and night.

"The next week we drove five more out of the ship by hard work and poor

grub. The old man was greatly tickled by his good luck, and he thought

if he could get rid of one more he'd let the rest stay, because he

thought the ship might get too bad a name if every one left.

"The fellow he picked out was an English chap, and he told us to

"keep him going." One evening, after we had knocked off work and put

on the hatches, I sent him down in the 'tween decks to see if there

wasn't a stray broom left down there; and it being dark and the 'tween

deck-hatches off, the chap walked right down the main hatch and fell on

the stone ballast in the hold. We heard him singing out blue-murder,

and got the hatches off and hauled him up on deck in a bow-line. He

said his back was broken; but I guess it was only badly bruised. When

the old man got aboard, and we told him of it, he tore round as though

there was something to pay and no pitch hot. The man wanted to go to

the hospital; but the captain didn't relish giving him his pay and

three month's extra, so he let him lie in the forecastle a week and

have his back rubbed with soap-liniment. But the man swore there was

some bone out of place in his back; and the captain got mad and told

the mate yesterday morning to sling the fellow in a bow-line, and make

him scrub the copper all round the ship outside. I wish you could have

been aboard to hear the rest of the fun, for the mate stepped up to him

and said:

"'Capt. Murphy, I've done enough of your dirty work; if you want that

job done you had better ship a new mate to do it.'

"The old man cursed him a few, I tell you, but the mate stood his

ground, and at last the captain told him to go to an unpleasant

locality.

"I've been there the last nine months," said the mate, "and got enough

of it; so if you please, I'll take my wages and leave."

"You don't say your mate left?"

"Yes; the old man tried to pay him off aboard ship, but the mate said

he wasn't going to be put down on the articles as a deserter, and

he made him pay him off at the Consul's with two months' extra for

himself and one for the Consul. I guess the old man won't smile again

for two weeks."

"How about the sailor?"

"Oh, I got orders to do what the mate had refused, and I wasn't too

high-toned to do it, seeing I want to get put in mate. I pitied the

fellow, though I don't believe he's as much hurt as he tries to make

out. At knock-off time to-night the old man happened to be aboard and

the sailor came aft and said he was willing to go ashore, so the old

man gave him a few dollars and he cleared. We've only got six men

aboard now, just enough to keep her in good order."

"We got clear of sixteen men out of our ship at Singapore," said the

mate of the "Tempest." "The whole starboard-watch left one night bag

and baggage and not one of us knew it aft till morning. We kept 'em

holystoning and scraping from dawn to dark, and licked 'em about every

other day on an average. They left about ninety dollars a piece, I

believe; at any rate I heard the old man say he had made $1500 by the

operation."

"There's been a law passed lately," said Mr. Morrison, "which I suppose

is meant to put a stop to this driving sailors out of ships. When

a man deserts and leaves any wages due him, they have to be handed

over to the government when the vessel arrives home, that is, after

taking out enough to pay any extra expense the ship has been put to

in getting other men. The wise heads in Congress thought that if they

could prevent captains from making any money by it, they would have no

inducement to run their crews ashore."

"But they weren't smart enough," said the mate of the "Tempest." "They

might have known that if a man is rascal enough to rob sailors in that

way, for that's just what it amounts to, he won't make any bones about

telling a lie to save the stealings. Now our old man put down on the

articles about seventy dollars paid to each man, and fifteen dollars

expense incurred by the desertion, leaving about four or five dollars,

which may be the Custom House will get."

"It seems rather hard," said Mr. Morrison, "that a ship shouldn't have

the benefit of what wages a runaway sailor leaves behind him. No matter

how well sailors are treated, some will almost always desert, just on

account of their love of change, and often will leave a little money

due them."

"I expect it is hard for the captains to make up their minds to pay

it," said the mate of the "Tempest." "But sailors don't often run away

from a good ship, when they have much money due them, except when they

want to go to the gold mines, or some such thing. I've seen as much

of this driving men out of ships as most men a-going, and done a good

deal of it myself too, but I must say I think it's a shame, and the

sailors need some protection such as this law means to give, and I'm

not sure but this will come as near to doing it as anything can, except

abolishing the three months' pay law, which is the greatest cause of

sailors being driven ashore."

Another evening three or four mates came visiting, and the burden of

our conversation was lady passengers.

"It is always bad luck," said one, "to have either a woman or a

minister aboard. I never knew it to fail yet. It is either a long

passage, or getting dismasted, or short of provisions, or there's a

terrible row in the camp. It's bad enough to carry one woman, as the

'Eagle' is going to do, but when it comes to taking four or five of

them and two missionaries beside, as the 'Tempest' does it's the very

mischief. I don't believe she'll ever reach port."

"You're an old owl," said the mate of the "Tempest." "There's no better

luck that can happen to a ship than to have a lady on board, mind I say

a _lady_. As to missionaries, I've nothing to say, for I never sailed

with any yet, but I stand up for the women. I'd be willing to go for

five dollars a month less wages for the sake of being in a ship that

carried them."

"Tell us your reasons," said Mr. Howard, "before you expect us to

believe you. What good is there in having a woman on board? I don't

believe there's any bad luck in it, nor do I see why you should be

quite so enthusiastic about it."

"I'll tell you my reasons. I've a great opinion of woman's influence

in keeping the edge on men's good manners and principles. A crowd of

men shut up together on a long voyage are continually degenerating into

barbarism. They need some restraint on their selfishness, and a curb

to their brutal natures. A woman's presence in some measure supplies

this. The captain feels bound to respect her, if there's anything of

the man about him, and he's careful how he swears or uses bad language.

The officers take their cue from the old man, and they're not as rough

with the crew, and the sailors in their turn feel the influence and

keep on their good behavior when they're around aft; it puts Jack in

good humor to see calico fluttering, and ribbons flying in the breeze,

for I believe every true sailor is at heart a ladies' man, though he

may not have much grace in displaying it. The man at the wheel keeps

his weather-eye lifting when she comes on deck to take an airing, and

has both his ears unbuttoned to catch any of her words, and when he

gets into the forecastle he says: 'Boys, what do you think the old

woman said this morning,' and then there's a long argument about it all

dinner time, whereas if they didn't have that to talk about, they'd be

growling about the ship, the work and their grub. The good influence

has begun already in our ship just from knowing ladies are coming."

"How's that," said the mate of the "Example."

"Why, my second mate is a great eye-servant. He's as mild as a kitten

when the old man's out of the ship, and doesn't care whether school

keeps or not; but just as soon as the cap'n gets hold of the man-ropes

to come up the side, he begins cursing and heaving belaying pins. The

old man steps over the rail and says to the captain that has come on

board with him, as they go into the cabin: 'That's the boy to take care

of 'em. He makes 'em toe the mark.' Last evening the cap'n came aboard

after knock-off time, when the men were at supper, but the 'shocking

dickey' wanted to shew off, so he went to the starboard forecastle

door, and began raving at somebody about leaving a marline-spike at the

main fife-rail. The cap'n heard him as he came over the gangway and

sung out: 'There, that'll do Mr. Brown; we've got to knock off all such

talk as that--we're going to have lady passengers.' I've sailed with

the old man three years, and that's the first time ever I heard him

find fault with bad language. So I think I've proved my case, haven't

I?"

"Yes," said Mr. Howard, "you're a good champion for the ladies. You'd

do to present their cause before a meeting of shipowners."

"If it's such a good thing for a ship to carry women, why is it that

shipowners are so down on it, and they so seldom allow captains to

carry their wives?" asked the mate of the bark "Vulture."

"One reason," said Mr. Morrison, "is the extra expense; it costs

something to feed them on a long voyage, and they must have more

dainties. Another is that they sometimes cause detention to the ship or

occasion a deviation from the voyage. There was a ship belonging to a

Boston firm that I used to sail for, that was kept waiting in Calcutta

for a week after she was loaded, on account of the captain becoming

a happy father. When the news came home, one of the partners handed

the letter over to the other, and said, 'What do you think of that?'

'Think,' said he; 'I think we won't make baby-houses of our ships any

more.' They made the rule, and after that captains had the choice to

leave their wives at home, or leave the employ."

"It's a hard place for a woman on board of a ship any way," croaked the

"owl" again. "It isn't natural for them to be shut up for months with

a crowd of rough 'barnacle backs,' without any of their sex to gossip

with, and no chance to go a-shopping, except two or three times a year."

"A ship is a hard place for anyone," said I. "Going to sea is an

unnatural life and a hardship to everybody. It's pretty clear from the

Bible how its Maker regards it, for there it is frequently used as a

symbol of evil. 'The wicked are like the troubled sea,' and 'raging

waves of the sea;' 'he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea;' the

beast of Revelation is represented as rising out of the sea, and we

read in the description of the perfect state 'there was no more sea.'

It is not good enough to be allowed in heaven. But in spite of all its

trials and unpleasant features we all like to go to sea."

"Vast heaving there, my friend," said the mate of the "Example." "I

don't like to go to sea, and I never saw a man yet that would own up to

liking it."

"We must be judged by our actions, not by our words," said I. "Sea

life gets people into such a way of 'growling' that they never know

when to stop finding fault; and if you ask them about any of their

circumstances they'll generally give an unfavorable account of them.

But after you've been growling about sea life for a whole voyage,

you'll get on shore, and in three weeks' time you'll be fretting to be

afloat again, and if you don't find a ship pretty soon, you'll growl

worse even than you did at sea. But I'll meet you half way and say

we _prefer_ to go to sea, in spite of its hardships. Against these

we have the offset of seeing foreign countries, the excitement of

constant change of place, and the great pleasure of arrivals at home.

Now, although what was said about the women may have some truth in

it, yet a woman, who loves her husband, may consider his company more

than an equivalent for the privations of life on shipboard; and then,

in foreign ports she's always made a good deal of, and gets a chance

to see everything that's to be seen, and enjoy all the pleasures of

foreign life, so that when you compare her life for a year's voyage,

with the hum-drum existence she would lead by herself in a small

country town; fretting about her good man every time the wind blew

hard, being the only excitement she would have in the whole time he was

away, and I tell you the seafaring woman has the best of it."

"Pretty well argued," said Mr. Morrison, "for a youngster that knows

nothing about it."

After two months in port the ship was again ready for sea; and after a

parting growl with Mr. Smashempotter, the captain came on board with

orders to get under way. With a fresh southerly wind we sailed into the

Bay, and the City of Genoa disappeared astern, just as the sun went

down behind the Apennines.

Moderate breezes and pleasant weather brought the ship again in

sight of Gibraltar ten days after leaving port, and then a calm took

possession of the Straits, and the ship lay helpless at the entrance,

slowly drifting back with the current.

During this time Capt. Streeter had been remarkably pleasant. He

spun long twisters to the second mate and myself, chiefly about his

experiences in fighting sailors, and even made advances towards

favoring Mr. Morrison in the same way; but was not very successful in

this attempt, for whenever the mate detected a lie or misstatement in

the captain's narrations, and this was not seldom, he always felt it

his duty to contradict it, whereas we appeared to accept everything as

gospel. Nothing provoked the captain so much as to have his veracity or

knowledge questioned, and this course of the mate's threatened to bring

on a relapse of the captain's "tantrums."

Toward the close of the day on which we had sighted Gibraltar, a breeze

set in from the westward, dead ahead. By nightfall we got abreast of

the harbor, and all through the night we made short tacks across the

Straits, only to find ourselves in the same place in the morning; and

in the next few hours we rather lost ground, as the current gained

strength with the increasing breeze. So the captain abandoned the

useless attempt, and came into the harbor of Gibraltar and anchored.

The harbor is on the west side of the rock, and is protected by a

sea-wall. On all other sides the rock ascends bare and steep from

the sea-level, but to the westward it presents a pleasant slope, and

on this is the town of Gibraltar with 16,000 inhabitants, besides a

garrison of soldiers; a narrow sandy isthmus connects the rock with the

continent.

The next day I had to go ashore with the captain to get some

blacksmith's work done for the ship, and found a chance to take a hasty

glance at the place, and was surprised to find so much verdure, upon

what I had imagined was wholly a barren rock; but to the south of the

town is a very attractive esplanade. On the north side I stood within

a stone's throw of the base of the rock, and looking aloft, saw it

towering above me in almost a straight wall of 1400 feet. Through

port-holes near the top, the black muzzles of cannon pointed to seaward

from the excavated galleries in the rock.

Capt. Streeter was told there was no chance for an easterly wind for

the next fortnight, and he must make up his mind to stop contentedly

until he saw the rock "put on it's night-cap," as they style the cloud

that hangs over it, as the certain precursor of a "Levanter."

The prophets and signs failed this time, and the next morning a strong

easterly breeze was blowing, and getting under way, the ship passed

through the Straits under reefed topsails, and was once more in the

Atlantic.

The ship was bound to Baltimore, and the direct course would have

been nearly west, but as westerly winds prevail in that latitude, the

longest way around was the shortest way home, and the ship was headed

to the S.W. in order to take advantage of the N.E. trades.

We passed between the Canary Islands, enjoying their verdure and bold

mountain scenery, and saw the volcanic Peak of Teneriffe lifting its

head above the clouds, 12,000 feet from the ocean. Then with moderate

trades we ran down to lat. 22° N., and kept along to the westward,

having beautiful weather, but rather lighter winds than the captain

expected.

The short detention at Gibraltar seemed to break up the captain's good

mood, and Mr. Morrison's provocation soon brought him back to his

former role of "sea-devil."

The ship had carried sand-ballast on a former voyage and the "limbers"

not having been properly cleaned out, whenever the ship rolled heavily,

the sand washed to the pumps. As they were old-fashioned wooden affairs

they had not power enough to raise it, and it settled on the lower

boxes and choked the pumps. The vessel leaked a good deal and we

spent considerable time drawing the boxes with the pump hook, which

sometimes it was difficult to work through a foot or more of sand.

Then we had to hoist the pump on deck and ram out the box with an iron

rod. The captain prided himself on his skill in hooking the pump box,

and whenever he heard the warning sounds, he invariably came on deck,

mounted the fife-rail and took charge of operations. His patience would

soon be exhausted if not successful, and then his profanity was really

awful. Every conceivable phrase of bad language was summoned to express

his petulance, and once, when baffled for a long time by the sanded

box, he rattled off a string of twenty-three words which haunt my

memory as the worst utterance I have ever heard.

In the fine weather of the trades the old suit of sails was bent, as

the captain said, "She must have on her old clothes to tar down in."

The mainsail was bent one afternoon, and in the inevitable inspection

and criticism which followed, the captain informed Mr. Morrison that

the bunt-lines were clinched into the foot of the sail the wrong way.

"How so, sir?" said the mate.

"Why, they ought to be rove from forward aft," said he.

"I don't think so, sir," answered the mate; "they ought to be rove from

aft forward."

"But look at the philosophy of the thing," said the captain; "don't you

see there'd be more chafe on the sail your way?"

"No sir, I don't," said the mate; "the philosophy is all the other way.

They've been bent after your fashion before, and the sail we've just

taken down is about chafed through in the wake of the clinches."

"I've heard the thing argued by intelligent men and they all agreed

with me," said the captain.

"If you want to have it done your way of course you can have it,"

answered the mate, "but it's wrong, and no intelligent man ever said

differently."

The captain, during this conversation gradually worked himself into a

furious passion, but there was something in Mr. Morrison's demeanor

which always kept him from giving the vent to his rage, as he did with

every one else, and after the conversation had been continued a while

longer in a similar strain to the above, he quietly turned away and

walked towards the cabin, but as he passed me he muttered in an audible

tone, "I've never been insulted before in my life, as I have been by

that man."

He worked off some of his spleen that evening by exercising the boys

with the watch-tackle, and giving them a bountiful allowance of his

favorite prescription, "rope yarn tea."

But he did not get back into his pleasant mood very soon, and he

snarled at and picked on the officers and made them ugly, and they

relieved their wrath by growling at the crew, and the men in their turn

got cross, and pretty soon all hands and the cook were in hot water.

There was a great deal of work going on, and if any of Mr. Morrison's

men blundered they were very apt to get a rope's-ending, and if Mr.

Howard's men were at fault, and sometimes when they were not, they had

to dodge their heads for a belaying pin or stick of wood.

Sailors, if they ever chew tobacco, always use it when steering, and

some can do without it at all other times, but must have a "chew" at

the wheel. One of Capt. Streeter's rules was that every man who used

tobacco should clean out the spittoon, when he went away from the

wheel. One forenoon the helmsman said to me: "The man that I relieved

didn't clean out the spit-box, sir." He called attention to it from

fear of being taken to task for it himself. I asked who it was, and

was told it was Jake. I was about to call him out on deck to do the

job, when the captain who was standing near and heard what had been

said, called to me and said: "Let Mr. Howard regulate his own watch.

Give him a call and tell him about it."

The second mate had just gone to sleep, having had eight hours on deck

the previous night, and when I waked him up, and gave him the captain's

message, he was not in very good humor. He understood in a moment what

the order meant, and stepping out on deck he saw the captain standing

by the weather mizzen-rigging, and so went forward to the weather

forecastle door. As he passed the galley he picked up a stick of the

cook's oak fire-wood, and holding it in his hand called for Jake. Jake

turned out promptly and came to the door to see what was wanted, and

just as he stepped on deck, Mr. Howard charged him with the neglect.

Before he had a chance to reply he aimed a blow at his head with the

stick of wood. Jake warded it off with his arm and acting on the

defensive was driven aft by the second mate, who aimed blow after blow

at him, which the man succeeded in avoiding or throwing off. He was

driven aft in this way until he reached the cabin.

A sailor in going aft on the quarter-deck is always required to take

the lee side, and as Jake, rather against his will it is true, was

thus transgressing rules, the captain took the opportunity to come to

Mr. Howard's assistance, and drawing a belaying pin from the rail he

stepped forward and said to Jake: "How dare you come aft on the weather

side of my quarter-deck," finishing his remark by a gesture, which

brought the belaying pin down on Jake's head with great force. Being

now between two fires, he was unable to defend himself, and had to take

a good pounding before he was released to perform the neglected work.

In the middle watch that night Mr. Howard was sitting on the rail

leaning against the boat's davit, and he fell asleep. Jake perceived

his condition, and vowing to one of the men he would push him

overboard, started towards him to do it. The other man sprang after him

and held him back, and in the little struggle that ensued the second

mate was awakened, and sung out to them to "stop that skylarking." For

some time after this Jake was punished by being ordered never to walk

on deck, but always to move at a run; and it became a rather ludicrous

sight to witness Jake's half-gallop, as he careered around about his

duties.

Great efforts were made to have the ship look well. The rigging was

set up, rattled down and tarred, the ship was painted, and every

morning the crew were exercised at holystoning the deck. To do this

the men knelt down, sprinkled sand and water on the deck, and then

rubbed the holystones to and fro to wear the deck smooth and white. The

stones that were used in this ship were of the shape of a brick, only

somewhat larger.

One morning this work was going on, and the second mate found one of

his men had disappeared. He picked up his holystone and went in search

of him. Just as he got to the forecastle door the man, a young sailor

called Dan, was just coming out on deck with a plug of tobacco in his

hand.

"What are you doing in there?" said Mr. Howard.

"I've been to get a chew of tobacco, sir," said Dan.

The second mate gave him a few rounds of curses, and then struck him

over the forehead with the holystone, which flew into pieces, breaking

in the middle from the force of the blow. Dan's head was not much the

worse for it though, and he went back to his work apparently unharmed.

The captain came on deck soon after, and while overseeing the work as

usual, he spied the broken stone.

"How did that stone get broken?" he asked of Mr. Howard.

"I just broke it over that nigger's head, sir."

"Did you, really? He must have a tough head. What was it for?"

"Because he left his work and went into the forecastle," said Mr.

Howard.

"That's right. Keep 'em up to the work; don't take a word from 'em, or

if one of 'em dares give you a black look, just pick up the cook's axe

and split his skull open!"

All this was said in a loud tone for the benefit of the men, and the

second mate was so much encouraged by this endorsement, that the same

day he broke a deck-bucket against another sailor's head, who gave him

a "black look," and as a boy was coiling up a rope in a larger coil

than he fancied, he sang out to him:

"What sort of a way is that to coil up a rope," and hurled an iron

belaying-pin at him with all his might. It missed its mark and made a

deep scar in the wood-work of the forward house. If the captain did not

value his sailors' heads very much, the same imputation did not apply

to his buckets or the appearance of the ship; and this last occurrence

was so manifestly unjust, and resulted moreover in such an injury to

the house, that it brought the second mate a mild rebuke from the

captain, who told him he ought to be careful or he'd kill somebody. He

seemed to forget that splitting skulls open with the cook's axe might

probably lead to that result.

All these affairs, which are but samples of many others, made the

mate and myself still more unfriendly to Mr. Howard, and scarcely any

conversation passed between us. But the captain seeing this coolness,

befriended Howard all the more in private, though one night when all

hands were on deck, he got so furious at the mate's neglect to answer

his orders, that he hauled off his coat and offered to fight the second

mate, greatly to Howard's bewilderment, who thought it was rather poor

business to do all the "captain's dirty work" for him and then get paid

with the abuse, which belonged to the mate, but which the captain was

afraid to give him.

Howard's cruelty and cowardice culminated in an act which even the

captain had to condemn. One of the two boys was named Taylor, and

had formerly been a servant in the house of a well-known senator in

Washington. If not one of the brightest boys in the world, he was one

of the most well disposed, and though he had felt the captain's "cat"

on his back pretty often, nothing seemed to interfere with his good

nature. It was he who called the captain when Jake was attacking the

second mate.

One evening at clearing-up time, Taylor was sent aft on the poop with

a broom to sweep the deck down. But after sweeping a little while, he

rested his broom against the house, and commenced making some motions

for the benefit of the man at the wheel, which seemed to tickle him

very much. Just then the captain happened to look around the corner of

the house, and spying master Taylor's proceedings, he put an end to the

fun by shouting:

"You imp, what are you doing there?"

"Nothing, sir," said Taylor, beginning to move his broom very

assiduously.

"If that's what you call nothing, I'll teach you not to do nothing

again!" and taking him by the neck he hauled him along to where the

cat was hanging at the front of the cabin, and taking it down, gave

Taylor's back such a dressing as it had not received that voyage.

He was amply punished, to say the least, but not enough to suit Mr.

Howard, who followed the boy forward, and getting him forward of the

foremast said to him:

"What did I send you aft for?"

"To sweep the deck, sir," answered Taylor.

"Yes; so I did," said Mr. Howard, "and instead of doing it you must go

to skylarking with the man at the wheel. The 'old man' has licked you

for fooling on the poop, and now I owe you something for not doing what

I told you to."

Without further words he struck Taylor on the face with a belaying-pin,

and followed it up with several blows in the same place. The boy's

shrieks brought the mate forward; but by the time he had reached the

spot, the damage was done, and the boy lay fainting upon the fore-hatch

with his face covered with blood.

The worthy mate, as soon as he comprehended the matter, burst out with

some expressions more forcible than elegant, and said to the second

mate:

"Mr. Howard, there's nothing of the man about you. You're a disgrace

to the very name of a man. An officer that would treat a boy like that

ought to be keel-hauled."

The second mate sneaked away aft, leaving the mate to take care of the

boy.

The next day the captain missed Taylor from the deck, and hearing that

he had laid up, sent for him. He appeared with his face so swollen

and discolored that no one could have recognized him. Capt. Streeter

was quite shocked by the case, and gave him proper lotions from the

medicine-chest. He took a private opportunity to tell Mr. Howard

that he had been rather too severe this time; but avoided any public

reproach of him, not wishing to give any further encouragement to Mr.

Morrison's hostility.

In all this time I was getting along pretty well. The crew had fighting

enough from the other officers to keep them in respectful awe of "the

powers that be" without much need of my using my fists against them,

though the captain kept up his system of alternate persecutions and

insinuating stories, all designed to make me such an officer as he

thought I ought to be.

The mate was treated with all the contempt that the captain dared to

show him, and his naturally irritable temper was by no means soothed

by this feature of his situation. I sometimes had good proof of this

by receiving a snappish rebuke for some fault or omission detected by

the mate's keen eyes. But apart from a momentary exasperation, this

had no great effect on my spirits, for I accepted such occurrences as

the inevitable portion of a third mate, and was only thankful that my

share was no larger than it was.

As for actual pleasure in the course of my duties, that was something I

had learned not to expect on board the "Dublin." The sole idea of the

ship as the captain endeavored to direct it, was work, work, and every

job, whether of putting on a seizing or sweeping the deck, was to be

done with the interest and thoroughness which would attend a matter of

life or death. Nothing that was ship's duty could be called trivial,

and if a shaving took refuge under a spare spar, escaping the boy's

broom, it demanded as great an outcry as one would suppose belonged to

one, who had scuttled the ship. In fact it generally received it, for

if the shaving escaped the officer's eye, it was pretty sure to meet

the captain's glance, for he was very particular after clearing-up time

to search for something, which would give him opportunity to find fault

with his officers, and show them they had not done their duty.

The second mate and I had a room in the starboard side of the after

house, opening out upon the deck. The weather being warm, I usually

left the door open when I turned in, and one morning at about five

o'clock I was awakened by a tremendous string of oaths, uttered by

the captain in a very loud tone just in front of my room. "That shows

the ambition of my officers," said he. "Nothing can be done unless I

see to it myself. I believe if I should keep in my room one day the

ship would go clear to destruction," (only he used a more explicit

name,) and he went on with mingled curses and denunciations about the

ambition of his officers, in a way that made me tremble. The occasion

of this display, I learned, was the falling of a bundle of salt-fish

from underneath one of the boats, and it happened that I had sent a

man the evening before to see that it was well secured, as there was

an appearance of more wind coming during the night. Being before the

wind, the ship rolled a good deal, and the salt-fish fetched away in

spite of the sailor's effort at securing it. There was no damage done

to the fish, but it showed to the captain's mind that his officers had

no ambition, and he made use of it to let off the cross feelings which

mates know as a general thing attend a captain's getting up in the

morning, and seem to be a sort of morning bitters--an appetizer for

his cup of coffee. All these things gave me a vivid impression of the

meaning of the phrase "eternal vigilance;" for no matter how hard I

tried or closely watched, every little while there would be discovered

some job which a sailor had slighted, or a gasket would get adrift on

a yard while I was busied with work which required my whole attention,

and the captain, who had nothing else to do but look for such things,

would happen to spy it, and then would begin his taunting, aggravating

remarks: "Nobody sees anything, but me. I don't know what they'd do

without the old man," and so on, in a way that sometimes goaded me

almost beyond endurance. When the captain saw this effect, in the

next leisure moment he would have a yarn to spin or a word about home

to soothe me again, for he seemed quite concerned about my ultimate

impressions of my captain.

I philosophized over all this and comforted myself with the reflection

that it was good training for me to be under such strict surveillance,

and then I fell back upon the memory of pleasures which had been

the result of this voyage, my travels in Italy; and often in the

night-watch, I sought refuge from my intense broodings over the

captain's tyranny and harshness, by standing, in imagination, by the

Coliseum or under the dome of St. Peter's, or in gazing with memory's

eye upon the almost living figures of Raphael and Guido, or the statues

of the Vatican. The whistling of the wind recalled to me the beautiful

echoes of the Baptistry of Pisa, and the inclining masts, its leaning

tower; or, in more sober moods I remembered my sensations as I stood by

the tombs of Galileo, Michael Angelo and Dante at Florence.

After passing the longitude of Bermuda the course was shaped more to

the northward, and losing the trades, southerly winds and variables

took their place, and helped the good ship along still further. A few

days more would end the voyage, and I hoped the disagreeable features

of it might prove to be already ended.

There was an old negro on board called Jenkings, who was nearly sixty

years of age. He had been to sea a good part of his life, but was now

not much more of a sailor than when he first started. Being in the

mate's watch, poor Jenkings was hauled over the coals every day for

some bad job or mistake; and the mate had expended more words upon him

than upon any two men in the crew.

The captain was very fond of calling Jenkings to him and giving him

an errand at the other end of the ship, telling him to run as fast

as he could, and the captain stood and laughed at his movements; for

his feeble legs made strange work of it, and though they moved up and

down pretty often, made a slow business of forging ahead. One day,

while watching these movements, he remarked to me, as I was sitting on

the deck near him, strapping a block: "A man would be a wretch that

would strike that old thing." And I remembered it as evidence that the

captain had some tender mercies with regard to sailors after all.

The mate never went farther with him than to pull his white beard, or

tie him up in the rigging by his thumbs. But it was very hard for him

to do anything to the mate's satisfaction; and every day Mr. Morrison's

shrill tones and Scotch accent were bestowed most liberally upon old

Jenkings, who always received his rebukes in perfect silence, but with

his thick, pouting lips stuck out beyond their usual great prominence.

In crossing the Gulf Stream we found unsettled weather, as is apt to be

the case in the region of this wonderful current, and were busied in

taking in or setting sail, as occasion required. The captain had given

orders in the afternoon to set the cro' jack; and having just had a

dispute with the mate, he went into the cabin in a cross mood, to get

out of the way while the sail was being set. When the work was about

finished, he was just stepping out of the cabin, as I sung out to old

Jenkings, who was on top of the house: "Let go that buntline; what are

you hauling it taut for?"

"Aye, aye, sir," was the response, uttered in rather a testy voice.

Capt. Streeter was just shutting the cabin door at this time, and did

it with a force that expressed his temper, and this prevented the "sir"

from reaching his ears. He sprang to windward, and seeing me standing

by the mizzen-rigging, called to me: "Get up on the house and knock

that old nigger's head off!"

I stared at him in amazement, wondering if he had gone crazy.

"Get up there," he repeated, "and give him a rope's-end over his back.

Don't take an insult from anybody."

Instead of obeying his direction, I walked towards the captain and

passed him without saying a word.

Capt. Streeter saw the work must come upon him if he wanted it done;

and with a few bounds was on top of the house, and snatching a rope

away from old Jenkings, that he was coiling up, gave him some vigorous

blows over the back with the end of it. "Will you ever speak to one of

my officers again without saying 'Sir?'" said the captain, as he paused

a moment for breath.

"I always do, sir," answered Jenkings, who was wholly at a loss to

understand what all this meant.

"You're a liar," said the captain, with a few more expressions

peculiarly Capt. Streeter's, and gave him another flogging.

When he had finished, he turned and walked to the edge of the house and

said: "Mr. A----, if you ever let a man say aye, aye, to you again,

I'll serve you in the same way."

"No one ever said it to me since I've been aboard of this ship, sir," I

replied.

"Yes, there has," said the captain. "This man just said it."

"You're mistaken, sir; he didn't," said I.

"You call me a liar, do you?" said Capt. Streeter, in a furious

passion. "I'll teach you to know your place. I've treated you so well,

you think you can take charge of the ship; but I'll let you know

I'm captain of her yet." He continued with such a string of words

that there was no chance to reply, and I walked forward to set the

flying-jib, leaving him to talk to the mizzen-mast, which he did for

some time after, to the edification of the man at the wheel, raving and

cursing about white-livered officers, religion, sailors, and ending at

last with an anathema on his own eyes.

Two days after, the water changed from its deep blue to green, and the

deep sea lead found bottom at eighty fathoms. The wind died away as we

approached the land, and we lay becalmed for some hours; but at last

the ship began to move along, though there was scarcely a breath of

wind to be felt on deck. I hove the log in a little while, and reported

to the captain that the ship was going seven knots. He would not

believe it, and told me to try it again; but the same result was shown,

and having occasion to go aloft immediately after, I found a fresh

breeze blowing there. The top-gallantsails and royals were pulling

hard, and the topsails "stood" most of the time, but the "courses" were

hanging up and down, without taking a breath of wind.

That night found the ship again in Chesapeake Bay, with a Baltimore

pilot on board, having been fifty days on the passage from Genoa, and a

little over five months and a half on the voyage.

It was now the beginning of June. The weather was mild and beautifully

clear, and a pleasant westerly breeze enabled the ship to lay her

course up the bay.

When the pilot comes on board, he is always supposed to take sole

charge of the ship; but Capt. Streeter could not bear to think of any

one superseding him, and so kept about deck, frequently giving orders

about the sails or yards. The pilot was somewhat surprised by this

conduct, but said nothing. In the morning, while he was walking on top

of the house, the captain stepped out of the cabin, and seeing that

the wind was a little free, called out in a loud, pompous tone: "Mr.

Morrison, set the foretopmast studding-sail;" his manner implying that

he would show the pilot he didn't allow his ship to go loafing along,

when it could be helped. The pilot kept on with his walk, and the

sailors rove off the gear, rigged out the boom, and hoisted the sail

up. The captain promenaded about with a self-satisfied air, scarcely

deigning to notice the pilot. But a minute after the sheet had been

trimmed down and before the ropes were coiled up, the pilot altered

the ship's course a little, and sang out: "Haul down that topmast

studding-sail!"

The captain disappeared into the cabin very suddenly, and let the pilot

take care of the ship afterward without any interference.

A calm set in in the afternoon, and we anchored off Point Lookout,

at the mouth of the Potomac; but in the early hours of the morning,

a breeze enabled us to get under way again, and meeting a steam-tug,

the captain struck a bargain, and the little boat took us in tow and

brought us by Fort McHenry into the harbor of Baltimore, just before

the sun went down. As much as twenty miles below the city we met

sailor boarding-house runners, cruising in their boats, but refused to

allow them on board, and the refusal in each case called forth a volley

of curses and the foulest language. When near the city a perfect swarm

of boats had collected about the ship, hanging on to her channels or

sailing along by her; and every little while some adventurous person

would climb up the side and attempt to come on board, and if refused,

as they always were, would use most insulting language. One fellow,

who persistently took his stand in the main channels, and refused to

get into his boat, was accosted by the captain with a belaying-pin;

but he coolly drew out a revolver and threatened to blow the captain's

brains out if he dared to touch him. The pilot cautioned the captain

not to quarrel with these men, for they belonged to an organized gang

of rowdies called "blood-tubs," and his life would not be safe on shore

if he took any harsh measures with them.

I thought Capt. Streeter had attained to the highest perfection

possible in the use of profane language, but these men quite equalled

him, using epithets and comparisons, shewing that human ingenuity had

been taxed to the utmost to invent new phrases and combinations of

oaths.

After a good many threats of murdering the captain and officers when

they caught them ashore, they one by one pulled in to the wharves and

left the ship unmolested. The next day the "Dublin" hauled in to a

wharf, at Fell's Point. The sailors had formed great plans for sueing

the captain and second mate, and anticipated a sweet revenge in this

way; but unfortunately they had arrived in a slave state, where a black

man's testimony would not be taken in court, and where also a black

sailor could not be discharged from his ship, unless some white man

became his bondsman that he should leave the state within twenty-four

hours. So there was nothing to do but postpone their revenge to the

indefinite time, when they might catch them in New York or Boston.

A tailor, for the sake of their custom, entered into bonds for the

men, and after making a pretty good bill out of each, shipped them by

railroad to New York.

After the sailors were all settled with, Capt. Streeter called the mate

into the cabin and said to him: "Mr. Morrison, I suppose you want to

leave, since you've told me you're ashamed of the ship."

"I'm not ashamed of the ship, sir," answered the mate; "I'm only

ashamed of the captain. I like the ship very much; I only wish she had

a master worthy of her."

The captain brought about this conversation hoping that in their last

interview he might have the advantage, and pour out on Mr. Morrison

some of the hatred that had been boiling within him since they had

quarrelled off Gibraltar. But the shrewd, sensible Scotchman was too

much for him, and he saw that if he got Mr. Morrison's tongue into

full course he should get a greater worsting than he had had during the

voyage, so he said:

"Well, if you want to leave, hand in your bill. I've had talk enough

with you."

"It's the captain's duty to hand in accounts," said the mate, "and I

should like to have you do it."

Here he was cornered again; so he went into his room and got the

"portage bill," and paid down the wages due him without another word.

The mate then packed up his things, bid me a hearty and feeling

good-by, and as he drove away from the ship his handkerchief went

up to his eyes to wipe away a few tears, which came in spite of his

self-control, as he thought of the contrast between the high purpose

and worthy determination to do his duty faithfully, which inspired him

when he joined the ship, and the disappointment and hatred which marked

the close of the voyage.

The mate being disposed of, to the captain's great relief, and a deeply

muttered curse sent after him, Mr. Howard was summoned to his presence,

and received the reward of all his subservience and brutality, by being

asked to remain by the ship and go as mate the next voyage.

"I should like to go with you, sir," he answered, "for I like you

better than any man I ever sailed with, but I don't know anything about

navigation."

"That doesn't matter," said the captain. "I want Mr. A---- to go second

mate, and he's a good navigator, and if anything happens to me, he

could get the ship into port."

I was then called in and to my great surprise was asked to remain by

the ship until she was discharged, and go next voyage as second mate.

"I'm much obliged to you, sir," I said; "but I don't think I should

suit you very well, and I'm not sure that I shall go to sea again. I

dare say I can find something to do on shore that I am better fitted

for. I've been brought up to act as a gentleman, and an officer's life,

as it is here, would force me to be a very different character."

"I've always told you, you know," said the captain, "that you've got to

give up your nice notions if you go to sea. But you'll come to it in

time. I'm not the worst man that goes to sea, and if you try to find a

better one, you may jump from the frying-pan into the fire. If you're

determined to leave, of course you can go. I never beg anybody to go

with me, but give me your address, and by the time we're ready for sea

again, I'll write to you and see if you haven't changed your mind. You

may think better of it after you've been ashore a few weeks. I want

you to understand there are plenty of second mates to be had, and good

ones too, but I've taken an interest in you, and think I can make a

good officer out of you, so for your own sake I'd like to have you go

again."

I went home the next day. Mr. Morrison had preceded me by one day and

had reported himself at the office of the owner, who received him very

cordially, and, giving him a chair, told him he was very sorry he had

left the ship so soon, and asked what was the reason. Mr. Morrison said

to him:

"I left because I was not willing to sail with Capt. Streeter, and I

consider no man with any respect for himself could sail with him a

moment longer than was absolutely necessary. His knock-down principles,

the language he used, and the example he set on board the 'Dublin' were

such as would shock even a Water-street bully."

"Dear me, dear me," said the good man; "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't

like to have such a man in my ship. I'll talk to him and tell him he

must do differently if he wishes to stay in my employ. He never takes

an officer a second voyage, and I expect something is wrong. I'll look

into it."

Mr. Morrison went into no details, but merely said enough to excuse

himself for leaving the ship, and having apparently satisfied the owner

that there was no blame attaching to him for not remaining by the ship,

he bade him good-morning.

When I got to the end of the story, the passenger gave a sigh of relief

and said: "I'm glad I'm not on board the "Dublin." I think I prefer the

_Rocket_."

CHAPTER V.

JOHN SHEPHARD.

After passing Amsterdam Island we gradually turned our course to the

northward, and without any delay in the debatable ground north of the

westerly wind region, we struck the south east trades. One evening the

vessel was slipping along at the rate of seven knots, with the wind two

points free and the sea so smooth that motion was scarcely perceptible.

A hush pervaded the ship, that seemed indicative of as much peace

within the vessel as without. At six o'clock John Shephard came to the

wheel, and the quiet sailing and steady steering inclined me to break

the usual custom--"no conversation with the man at the wheel." "She

steers well to-night, doesn't she, John?"

John blushed up to his eyelids, as was his wont when addressed by the

"old man."

"Yes, sir, she steers like a pilot-boat."

"This is pleasant sailing," I added, "if going to sea was all like this

we would have the old women for sailors."

"It's the pleasantest going to sea ever I saw," said John, "and things

are first rate all the time now; I never in all my going to sea knew

things go on so well in the forecastle; we don't have any growling or

rows with each other, and if things could be like this I wouldn't mind

going to sea all my life."

"You don't expect to go all your life then, I suppose?"

"No sir, I came near knocking off some time ago, but I had bad luck."

"How was that?" I asked.

"Well, sir, I'm most ashamed to tell you, but it was this way: I was

at Bombay in an English ship when the Sepoy war broke out, and I left

the vessel and joined the army. I was at Delhi, and when we took the

city I went through the palaces and got a good deal of plunder. I had a

diamond ring that was worth two or three thousand dollars and I got a

lot of gold coin and jewels that I sewed into a belt and wore around my

waist. When the war was over I was discharged in Calcutta and engaged

passage in a steamer for England. I meant to go home to Hanover, buy

a farm and live there with my old mother, and I had money enough to

keep us there in comfort. But the night before I was to sail I got on a

spree, and the next morning I found myself lying in a gutter. Somebody

had taken the ring off my finger and stolen the belt from my body, and

I hadn't a cent left in the world. So I had to give up going home, and

ship before the mast again. What little money I have earned since, I

have sent to my mother, but I can't get ahead any, and every hour in

the day I think about that awful night in Calcutta and what I lost."

This explained the pensive look that John continually wore. I was much

touched by his story, told with child-like simplicity, his speech with

its slight German accent striking musically upon the ear.

John was my favorite sailor. He was a Hanoverian by birth, and I

suppose had some German name, but what it was I never knew. "John

Shephard" was the false flag he sailed under. He had made a previous

voyage with me and afterwards sailed on a third. On the first voyage

he had been selected by the mate as the scape-goat for his ill temper.

Many mates who aspire to the reputation of being "bullies" thus pick

out a good-natured, inoffensive man, and hurrah, shout and curse at

him, while the men whom they know would resent such conduct are treated

mildly and their faults are overlooked. Soon reports came to me about

that "green dutchman, John," "a perfect galoot," who didn't "know B

from a bull's foot," didn't "know enough to go into the house when

it rains," was "enough to make a minister swear," and so on. He was

sent to do all the dirty work, pound the iron rust, slush the masts,

do "rope-yarn jobs" aloft in a gale of wind, often being sent aloft

without any explanation of what he was to do, and when he got above

the top where he could scarcely hear, a volley of orders and abuse was

yelled at him with bewildering effect. He certainly at such times did

seem stupid, but all through the voyage I saw no resentment shown,

heard no "back answers" and only noticed the flush of the cheek that

betrayed the wounded spirit he so submissively controlled. I began to

love that quiet, faithful sailor and to protect him from abuse whenever

I could do so without disorganizing discipline.

On the present voyage I noticed that John was always placed at the

best work. If a cringle was to be put in a sail, or a cloth let in,

a seizing to be squared, or a ratline to be straightened, John was

called on oftener than anyone else to do it. I asked the mate one day:

"How is it you put John at such good jobs; do you consider him a good

sailor-man?"

"Yes, sir," said the mate; "he's just as good a sailor-man as there is

in the crew. It doesn't do to watch him too closely though. If I stand

over him he often gets flustered and does things back-handed, but let

him try his own way and he'll do things shipshape."

I was delighted to hear a good word spoken for John, and thought much

better of the mate for his perception and wise dealing. Often have I

said: "If all sailors were like John it would be only a pleasure to

go to sea." He lives in my memory as my model sailor, in spite of his

deficiencies.

He was a well-formed man, of medium size, straight and compact, with

light, curly hair, good features, a very clean face with rosy cheeks,

and blue eyes that were really beautiful in their soft expression.

His cheerful smile and modest blush made it a pleasure to accost him.

He was always neat in his dress, and though four bells struck when he

was riding down a stay "up to his eyes" in tar, he would dive into

the forecastle and in a few minutes appear to take his trick at the

wheel with clean dungaree pants and hickory shirt. As his clear voice

repeated the course, "Nord, nord-east, half east," I would go below

saying to myself, "The ship will be well steered these two hours."

Where is John now? Has he bought his farm yet in the Faderland? Or

has he fallen over board, or died in a foreign hospital? Has he been

disheartened by the harsh treatment of cruel mates and become degraded

in his habits on shore? May God bless him wherever he is, and through

all his wanderings bring him safely to the Fatherland!

We attempted a Christmas dinner in the cabin, while the sailors had

their plum duff in honor of the festival. Our table bore a goodly

display of articles, as regards name, but probably their quality would

be less attractive to landsmen's palates. We dressed in our "shore

togs;" appropriate sentiments were uttered, and an original ode was

recited, as follows:

ODE TO THE _ROCKET_.

TUNE: "_Van Amburgh's Menagerie_."

The _Rocket_ is our vessel's name,

A noble Boston bark.

Her qualities are known to fame,

As I need not remark.

For fourteen years she's ploughed the wave,

And sailed through every clime;

Though billows roar and tempests rave,

She always comes to time.

_Chorus_: The _Rocket_ now we'll praise,

For she's as good a craft

As ever dashed aside the sprays,

Or at the storm-king laughed.

The captain, first and second mate,

A passenger beside,

Are lads as true as ever ate

Plum duff upon the tide.

The Straits of Sunda is our goal

To which we're speeding free;

And now we fill the flowing bowl

To life upon the sea.

_Chorus_: Here comes the fiery _Rocket_

With sportsmen smart and gay;

If birds would not be shot at

They'd better keep away.

When with fresh wind and flowing sheet

We're flying through the foam,

Our hearts with joy and gladness beat,

As round the world we roam.

Or in the calm and tropic night,

The stars recall to mind

The eyes, as beautiful and bright

Of girls we've left behind.

_Chorus_: Speed on thou noble _Rocket_!

Until the voyage ends,

And our good fortune brings us

Once more to home and friends.

Roll on ye waves, ye breezes blow,

Swift speed us on our course,

And soon to Asia's shores we'll show

The Ensign and Black Horse.[1]

And when we step on Java's strand,

Our double toast shall be

The glorious old bark _Rocket_, and

The Romance of the sea.

_Chorus_: The _Rocket_ now we'll praise,

For she's as good a craft

As ever dashed aside the sprays,

Or at the storm-king laughed.

The vessel had received a liberal outfit from the owners, who expressed

the wish that the sailors should not be restricted to a diet of salt

beef and hard bread, believing this to be the most expensive way of

provisioning a ship, as well as an unsatisfactory one to the crew.

Accordingly the men were allowed "soft bread" every night; there was

a good supply of potatoes, onions, and beets on board, and mackerel,

herrings, tongues and sounds, dried apples, corn meal, and pickles

were provided, in addition to the usual supplies of rice, beans, split

peas, salt codfish and the inevitable beef, pork, and "hard-tack."

Molasses and vinegar were freely served out, these condiments often

making a plain meal quite palatable, and one evening in a week molasses

gingerbread was furnished in place of the "soft bread." In the cabin

we had a tolerable supply of canned provisions and had no reason to

complain. I find, however, the following entry in my journal:

"I feel a strong desire to get ashore and have something new to eat. We

have a good supply of stores, but there is so much sameness necessarily

in our table fare, that the very thought of meal times takes away one's

appetite. We had a large stock of vegetables and still have potatoes,

onions and beets, so there is no fear of scurvy. I have sometimes said

that the only advantage I ever discovered in going to sea, was the

ability to eat onions, without fear of offending one's associates. But

after indulgence in this respect every day for three months, I feel

willing to renounce this luxurious privilege of sea life, and endure

the privations of civilized society for a while."

Very small incidents become noteworthy at sea and one day was enlivened

by the appearance of the Malay cabin boy before me, with very solemn

face, exclaiming, in tragic tones: "Sir! the ginger won't live long."

It proved that a jar of preserved ginger, having been left open in the

pantry, the officers had treated themselves in a night-watch, thus

shortening its life.

Some little anxiety was caused by some doubtful islands being set

down on the chart, but we sailed over their supposed locality without

striking anything, or seeing any sign of shoal water.

Those who have examined charts of the sea, have noticed frequent

interrogation points, which indicate that dangers have been reported in

the localities designated. The charts of the Pacific Ocean especially

abound with these reputed rocks and shoals, and keep the navigator

in continual alarm, lest one should prove to be a reality. It was a

wonder to me how these false alarms, as most of them are now known to

be, could ever have been given, but an occurrence, by which I myself

was deceived, has suggested a plausible explanation of some of the

instances.

I was sailing in the South Pacific (in the ship "California,") in lat.

24° 20´ south, lon. 125° 6´ west. We were steering south, with the

wind north, the sky clear, and the ship going about two knots through

the water. At 1, P.M., the officer of the deck reported to me that

there were breakers ahead, and on the port bow. I went on deck, and

saw what appeared to be an extensive field of breakers, and also a low

island or sand bank, thirty feet high, and three miles long, without

trees or verdure, and with shoals, on which the sea broke, extending

five miles from it to the north and west. The island bore south-east,

eight miles distant, and the nearest breakers were two and one half or

three miles distant from the vessel.

The mate went aloft with me to the mizzen-topsail yard, and with my

marine glass we took a good look, and were both entirely convinced that

what we saw were genuine breakers. The sea was very smooth and we could

see the swell rolling towards us, then cresting, and spreading thin

sheets of foam upon the water. The island also appeared very distinct

as seen through the glass. I went down on deck with the intention of

altering the ship's course, but deciding to run a little nearer to the

breakers, I went up to the fore-topsail yard to watch them and steer

the ship past them. I soon noticed that they changed their position

somewhat, that the ship drew no nearer to them, and that there was a

perfect calm where they prevailed. Finally I found the whole appearance

was an optical delusion, caused by the sun shining upon the glassy

swell of the sea, and a peculiar state of atmospheric refraction.

I kept the ship on her course, and sailed through the spot where the

first breakers appeared, finding blue water there, but still observing

the breakers in the calm spots at varying distances for the next three

hours, until 4, P.M., when the breeze freshened at the west, and the

illusion was dispelled. The island vanished after being in sight for an

hour, and I presume was caused by the looming of the swell of the sea

in the horizon.

The whole ship's company were deceived by this remarkable appearance,

and if circumstances had not favored my prolonged inspection of it, I

should certainly have made a report which would have added another to

the list of doubtful dangers, which are combined puzzles and terrors to

navigators.

Fresh south-east trades brought us north at an average speed of over

nine knots, for a few days, and carried us to lat. 12° 30´ S. Here,

according to books, we should find the N.W. Monsoon, and anticipating

it I had followed the sailing directions and kept to the westward of

the direct course, in order to be sure of fetching into the Straits

of Sunda with the north-west wind. Instead of this, eleven successive

days of light south-east airs and calms attended us. Coming at the end

of the passage, this delay was very hard to bear, and we saw daily the

hopes of a "crack passage" dwindling away. The tropical sun poured

down upon us, and with no breezes stirring to alleviate its effects,

discomfort of body was added to the distress of mind. The attitudes

assumed on one of these calm, hot days, are so expressive of the mental

emotions entertained, that the reader for further information as to how

we felt, is referred to our artist's portrayal of the scene.

The _Rocket's_ cabin was below the poop-deck, built in the style

called a "trunk," that is, sunk part way into the between decks.

My room was in the forward end, on the starboard side, and a small

window opening through the "break of the poop" admitted sights and

sounds from the deck. This was often very serviceable in keeping track

of what was going on when the "old man," as the captain is always

styled, was supposed to be safely out of the way. I also overheard

many conversations not intended for my ear, and was sometimes

entertained by the officers' yarns as they sat on the booby-hatch in

the dog-watch, six to eight o'clock in the evening. As this was the

passenger's first experience of sea-life, they very kindly supplied

him most liberally with information on that topic. Some of the items

were of considerable interest. The mate gave most of the stories, but

the second mate sometimes "put in his oar." One evening, I heard the

mate describe, in terms that would have done honor to a city-press

reporter, the construction of a new steamer that was to combine two

means of locomotion. A railroad was laid on her deck, and when she

left New York, a train containing the passengers started from her

stern. When the bow of the ship reached Liverpool, the train would just

get to that end of the ship, having been rushing ahead all the time

that the steamer was crossing the Atlantic. If I remember rightly, the

passengers were only three days in crossing by this double method of

travel.

[Illustration: Dead calm.--Thermometer 90° in the shade.]

The second mate followed this up with an account of a sailing-ship that

he was in, which had a gangway built around the ship, and the captain

used to ride around the vessel on horseback with a speaking-trumpet,

giving orders. The ship was lighted by gas. Pipes with hot tea and

coffee ran to the captain's state-room from the galley, and a small

railroad was laid on deck to carry the hands fore and aft, but it was a

horse-car affair, and so on.

The most remarkable story, I felt worthy of record, and I will give it

in the mate's words.

"When I was mate of the clipper ship "Nonesuch" (she had three decks

and no bottom) we were sailing in the Indian Ocean bound from Mauritius

to Calcutta, in ballast. One day, looking to windward I saw a great

splashing in the water, which rapidly approached the vessel. I ran

up the mizzen-rigging and discovered that a large whale was coming

towards us pursued by a swordfish, which made attacks upon it whenever

it could overtake the whale. As they neared the ship the whale sank

a little below the surface of the water, and then, seeing the hull of

the vessel in the way, it rose to the surface, gave one twist of its

tail, and with a tremendous effort leaped into the air, and went clean

over the royal-mast head. I never was so astonished in my life, and the

swordfish appeared to be equally surprised, for he stopped and looked

aloft for half a second, and then making a dive he went under the keel

of the ship. As he rose to the surface on the other side, he pointed

his sword up straight in the air, and when the whale fell he caught it

on the point and whirled it round and round for nearly a minute. Then

the whale got off, the swordfish being wearied out, I suppose, and both

started on another race. After going a little distance the whale turned

towards the ship, and being too feeble now, from loss of blood, to take

another leap, he struck the ship and swung alongside, broadside on. The

swordfish came on with such force that his sword pierced the body of

the whale and we felt the jar as it struck the ship's side. There they

lay thrashing and bleeding. We were surprised that the whale didn't

move off, as we had been going five or six knots, and we also noticed

that our speed was reduced. The carpenter went down into the hold,

and found that the fish's sword had cut right through the side of the

ship, and whale and swordfish were made fast to us. He got his hammer

and bent the end of the sword so that it couldn't be pulled out; and

the whale soon dying, we turned into a whale-ship for a while, cut it

up and tried out several barrels of oil. We shot the swordfish with a

rifle, but left his sword in the plank, and it was cut out when we got

home and put in a museum for a curiosity. We found the greatest lot of

trash in the whale's stomach that you can imagine--pieces of sailor's

shirts, old boots, tin pans, glass bottles and preserve-cans. There was

a very fine linen handkerchief with some queer letters in the corner,

which no one could make out. The captain carried it home and showed

it to a minister, who was a great scholar. He said the letters were

Hebrew and spelt Jonah! There seemed to be no doubt that this was the

very whale that swallowed the prophet, when he cut sticks off to sea

and got hove overboard in a gale of wind. It's said Jonah felt down in

the mouth after the whale took him in, and no doubt he cried and took

out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. Then he came out pretty sudden,

and must have dropped it in his surprise. I've always believed in Jonah

since then."

One afternoon, when ninety-eight days out, we sighted Java Head, the

south-western point of Java, and at sunset were just fifteen miles west

of it. This seemed almost like arrival at our destination. It is a

great relief to the navigator, after months of steering by the stars,

to find his reckoning proved correct by seeing the dry land appear,

just where his calculations lead him to look for it. It thrills his

mind to think that he has been enabled to find his way through pathless

wastes, over half the circumference of the globe, to a little head-land

in the eastern seas. He feels a reverence for the noble science whose

deductions have led to this result, and also usually indulges in

some self-complacent emotions at his own successful application of

its rules. Having bearings of the land he now knows where he is by

sight, and gladly leaves his life of faith. He finds, however, that

this element of security is offset by a vast increase of danger. In

proximity to the land are rocks and shoals, and around them sweep ever

varying currents. Dark nights and storms envelope and assail him, and

hours of anxiety are passed, such as are wholly unknown in the deep sea

sailing.

This night I was destined to experience the hazards of coast navigation

and to recognize the preserving hand of God in preventing our

shipwreck. Knowing my position so exactly, I felt emboldened to attempt

to work into the Straits of Sunda in the night. In the evening a fresh

breeze sprang up ahead varying from E.S.E. to E.N.E., accompanied by

heavy rain-squalls. The night was very dark and I remained on deck

the whole time, except for the few moments occasionally required for

marking the supposed position on the chart and planning the movements

of the vessel. We made several tacks and at three o'clock in the

morning, when I supposed we were well into the Straits, after a

rain-squall had passed, the clouds broke away, revealing the old moon

just getting out of bed from behind a high hill directly ahead, towards

which we were hastening at a rate of speed which would have cast us

upon its shores in another quarter of an hour. The bark was immediately

hove to, while I tried unsuccessfully to verify my position. Daylight

revealed that we had been about running into Java Head, the current

having set us back S.W. by S. 32 miles in twelve hours. So here we

were, instead of being in the Strait, still at its entrance, not having

secured any gain from all the night's work, the insidious current

having robbed us of the fruits of our toil. I had been fretting all

the night because the wind would not haul and allow us to steer in a

certain direction. I was thrilled and instructed by noticing on the

chart that, if I had been permitted to take the course I desired, we

should have certainly been wrecked on the dangerous reef extending

from Prince's Island. How near we came to it I cannot say, but that we

avoided it was not owing to my own skill, but to Him whose hand led me

in the uttermost parts of the sea. Many a successful navigator in these

Eastern waters could join me in acknowledging that in some instances

his safety has been owing "more to luck than good management" as the

common phrase goes, or as one had better say, to a kind Providence.

This event gave me an illustration of "Prayer answered by crosses" and

in later trials has helped me to say: "Thy will be done."

The next night, being in very close quarters among islands and rocks,

I took bearings of a light to test my progress, the darkness hiding

the dangers from view. A light breeze was blowing, and the bark moved

at the rate of about two knots through the water. The light however

remained on the same bearing, showing that we gained nothing on it, and

I supposed the same strong current was neutralizing all the power of

the wind. I was about to come to anchor to avoid the peril of drifting

about in the darkness amid so many dangers, when a close inspection of

the light with the marine glass, showed it was not on the land, but on

board a vessel in shore, sailing with us, and on the other side we soon

discovered a rock, which we were passing quite swiftly, the current

evidently having changed in the opposite direction. This event supplied

another moral reflection: the importance of measuring by a right

standard.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: The owners' private signal.]

CHAPTER VI.

LIFE IN THE EAST INDIES.

"It is a goodly sight to see

What Heaven hath done for this delicious land."--_Byron._

"And, oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,

It is this, it is this."--_Thomas Moore._

The East Indies is a name generally applied to the archipelago lying

S.E. of Asia, containing the islands of Sumatra, Java, Borneo, Celebes

and others. It was visited by voyagers from the Western World in the

16th century, and since that time Portuguese, Dutch, English and French

have controlled parts of its domain.

I wish I could affect the reader's imagination as my own senses were

impressed, when, after the stormy night, in which we barely escaped

shipwreck, we sailed in the early morning along the shores of Java,

an island so beautiful in its aspect, so luxuriant in its productions,

and so delightful in its varied climates, as to have been claimed by

many as the veritable locality of the Garden of Eden. As we sail along,

monkeys chatter at us from the trees and rocks that girt the shore;

bright plumaged birds are seen on the wing, and the dewy air floats off

to us so loaded with odors suggestive of delicious fruits, that one

instinctively opens his mouth to devour it. This makes plain an idiom

of the Malay language. "To take a walk" is expressed in that tongue by

words meaning to eat the air. I can hardly recommend this chamelion

diet as a staple food, but it is most excellent for dessert.

Sailing up the Straits of Sunda, the waters attract the notice by the

curiosities floated on their surface. Cuttlefish bones, such as our

canaries use, cocoanuts, a great variety of fruits and leaves, and even

floating rocks, which are found to be pumice stone, pass the vessel

in continued procession. Besides these an evidence of civilization is

usually noticed in the form of square-faced gin bottles, for these

abound in the neighborhood of the Dutch settlements.

At Anjer, a little village nestled among dense foliage, "bumboats" come

off to supply the ships with fruits and provisions. One of these making

fast to a vessel, a man climbs up on deck, dressed in jacket and pants

of striped red and yellow cotton and introduces himself as Paul Jones;

but if he visits an English ship he, perhaps, knows enough to select

a name less offensive in its allusions. This boat contains yams (the

eastern substitute for potatoes), cocoanuts, bananas, fowls, shells,

Java sparrows, and always monkeys. A sailor sometimes sets these last

loose, and they escape on board the ship and retain their liberty. The

last time I passed Anjer homeward bound, my previous experience with

monkeys led me to send word to the crew that they might buy as many

monkeys as they wished, but I should charge $10 for each one's passage

to New York. The consequence was that no monkeys were bought; but after

getting to sea, I found the crew had invested in squirrels, which had

the art of taking very long leaps through the air, so that one was

often startled by hearing a whiz, and feeling an animal alight on the

back of the neck. I resolved that in future squirrels should also be

excluded from the free passengers' list.

Rounding St. Nicholas Point into the Java Sea, we sail among small

islands, each a perfect gem of landscape beauty. All have read of the

formation of these coral islands; how the little insects rear the

structure and die at the water's surface when their work is done. Then

the drift of the sea collects upon the coral, earth slowly accumulates;

cocoanuts are washed up, and taking root, send up the tall palm-trees;

finally, the whole island becomes a mass of luxuriant verdure. A

glistening white sand beach surrounds it, and at a little distance it

is encircled with a wreath of foam, as the sea ceaselessly breaks over

the surrounding reef. These are the jewels of the eastern seas--the

emerald brooch with silver setting, fastened upon the bosom of the deep.

Anchoring in Batavia harbor, native boatmen row us ashore, giving

monotonous grunts as they ply their oars; and pulling up a long canal,

we land at the "boom," or Custom House. A carriage is secured, a sort

of barouche, having four wheels, and one seat with projecting hood.

A driver sits on the box, wearing a loose bright-colored frock, his

head covered with an enormous gilt hat, in shape like an inverted

wash-bowl. Two ponies are attached to the carriage; the driver cracks

his whip and beats them to enforce a start, but in vain. This carriage,

in the Malay tongue, is called a "crétur," but an Irishman would

certainly apply that term to the horses, for of all created animals,

donkeys not excepted, these East Indian horses are the most erratic

and unaccountable in their movements. In this case an appeal to the

bystanders brings a crowd to push the vehicle ahead, until the ponies,

through fear of being run over, decide to get out of the way, and

start off upon a gallop, which is maintained till the destination is

reached; unless they should happen to stop suddenly, stand on their

heads and kick their heels at the driver's wash-bowl hat; or else,

turning at right angles, dash off the road into a hedge. I was once

driving in Penang, in the Straits of Malacca, with a gentleman, in an

American buggy drawn by a Sumatra pony; a horse passing at a gallop

infuriated the animal, and he rushed at his utmost speed along a

smooth, wide road. At its sides were ravines fifteen or twenty feet

deep, at the bottom of which ran streams of water. No obstruction was

in sight save a solitary buffalo cart on the left hand side of the

road; and because that was the only point where he could not have the

freedom of the whole road, there that pony deemed the path of duty to

lie. As he approached the cart he bolted off to that side of the road,

tottered a moment on the edge of the bank, and over it we went. Flying

through the air, I struck my head on the opposite side of the ravine,

and rolled down into the stream under the pony, who looked as though

he wished he hadn't done it. Some natives helped me up into the road,

and when I appeared on board ship the next morning with my bruised and

battered face and soiled clothing, the sailors cast suspicious glances,

and I learned afterwards, were quite elated at having detected their

moralizing captain in the indulgence of a night-long spree with such

results. This injury to my reputation may account for my prejudice

against East India ponies; but now that I have given them a bad name

I have had my revenge. It must be admitted that they are indispensable

to comfort, with all their ills, for the fierce tropical sun forbids

noon-day walking, and some covered conveyance is an essential of life

in the East; so, in China, each person has his sedan chair carried

by two coolies; in the Straits' Settlements, his one-horse gharry,

and in the Dutch places his crétur. Some security is given against

the waywardness of the ponies by the frequent practice of building

embankments at the sides of the roads; and some escape their dangers by

using good horses from Australia, or, occasionally, fine Arab steeds.

The hotel at which we arrive is a two-story building, and in the rear

extend lines of one-storied structures, with wide walks covered by

verandahs, upon which the rooms all open. Upon my first arrival at

this hotel I entered the office, but saw no person there, unless Mr.

Darwin's friends should insist that I applied that term to a large

monkey, who was seated upon the table engaged in pouring the contents

of a capacious inkstand upon the open pages of the hotel register. My

presence ended this evidence of a dawning fondness and aptitude for the

fine arts.