SHE ENTERS UPON HER DUTIES
I did but little on this the first day of my entering upon my strange
new duties. The steward distrusted my sea-legs, and he and his mate
fetched the dishes from the galley. I hung about the fore-end of the
cuddy, put the dirty plates into the basket, collected the knives and
forks, went on errands to the pantry and the like. The picture of the
cuddy was bright and hearty. Two large illuminated globes, in silver
holders, swung under the ceiling; the light of them flashed in the
mirrors and rippled with the movements of the ship in the polished
woodwork. The captain sat at the head of the table, the doctor on his
right. Captain Barrett and Lieutenant Chimmo sat together on the other
side. Once or twice Captain Barrett screwed his glass into his eye and
looked at me, but his gaze expressed no more than surprise to find me
at work as a cuddy-servant. The others took not the least notice of me.
Captain Barrett had a loud laugh and a hearty manner of speaking;
Lieutenant Chimmo was thin of voice, stilted and affected, so stiff and
snobbish as to satisfy me he was not a born gentleman. I wondered to
find neither of the mates at the table, but I soon discovered that it
was the custom on board the _Childe Harold_ for the mate of the watch
to come below and eat after the captain was done, the other two mates
joining him when possible, so as to make a separate table.
The talk at the beginning was not very interesting. The convict guard,
it seems, had come to the ship from Chatham, and neither Captain
Barrett nor the lieutenant could say too much in abuse of that place.
There was no society; dirt and drink formed the life of the town.
Deptford, nay even Sheerness, was sweet and desirable compared to
Chatham. The doctor ate and drank water with a little wine in it
and seemed to listen. The captain frequently lifted his eyes to the
skylight as though thinking more of the weather than of the officers’
chatter. Presently Captain Barrett, leaning across the table, said to
the doctor:
‘Chimmo and I have been wondering whether you’d have any objection,
after the fellow’s irons are knocked off, I mean, to Barney Abram
coming aft to give us a few lessons in sparring? I dare say, captain,
your sailmaker could contrive to furnish out an arrangement of canvas
and oakum to answer for boxing-gloves.’
‘It would be impossible to imagine any objection stronger than mine to
your suggestion,’ said the doctor.
‘There’d be always a sentry at hand, you know,’ said Lieutenant Chimmo.
‘Let us change the subject,’ said the doctor severely.
Captain Barrett looked at the doctor with a slight sneer and said:
‘We’ll not talk of bringing Barney Abram aft: we’ll talk of Barney
Abram as he is. Pity so much talent should go wrong. Transport your
felonious clergy, attorneys, farmers, medical men,’ he added, with
a significant look at the doctor, ‘there’d always then be too many
to spare. But to send such a prize-fighter as Barney Abram out of
the kingdom! To ship him into a country where there’ll be nobody to
appreciate him! By Heaven, it’s as bad as robbing the crown of England
of a jewel!’
The captain, observing that the doctor did not like this talk, changed
the subject by speaking of the fine progress the ship was making. At
this moment I was sent to the pantry by the steward. When I returned, I
heard Lieutenant Chimmo say: ‘What would those chaps under hatches give
for a taste of that curried fowl! Your cook’s a neat hand, captain.’
‘The provisions served out to the convicts are infernally bad,’ said
Captain Barrett.
‘“They are not good, but they may be eaten,” as Charles XII. said to
the soldier who showed him some mouldy pieces of bread,’ exclaimed the
doctor.
‘At such a table as this,’ said Lieutenant Chimmo, ‘a man can take
a philosophic view of the tastes and appetites of people who are
ill-fed.’
‘Convicts are as well fed as sailors,’ said Captain Sutherland.
‘I’d rather be a convict than a sailor,’ said Captain Barrett.
‘One’s t’other more often than not,’ observed Lieutenant Chimmo.
‘’Stonishing what a lot of rascals sail afore the mast!’
‘Take care that whisper don’t get forward of the main-hatch sentry,’
said the captain, with a glance at the steward. ‘Jack’s got a sensitive
side to his nature.’
‘Doctor, what’s to be the routine when decent weather sets in?’
inquired Captain Barrett.
‘Schools, Bible classes, and frequent prayer-meetings, sir,’ answered
the doctor.
‘Don’t educate them,’ said Lieutenant Chimmo. ‘They’re very bad now;
education’ll make them worse.’
‘I’m with Chimmo,’ said Captain Barrett. ‘Doctor, I’ll wager you
what you will that the worst of your people are those who are most
intelligent and best educated.’
The doctor made no answer.
‘I must state this as a fact,’ said Captain Sutherland, with a side
look at the doctor, as though distrusting his topic: ‘Mr. Bates, my
chief officer, recognised one of the convicts. His name--’ The doctor
made a motion with his hand. ‘Well, enough if I say,’ exclaimed the
captain, stammering, ‘that this same man is a person of excellent
antecedents, was for years at sea, and held several posts of trust,
and finally wound up a flourishing career by investing his savings in
a smart little barque for no other purpose than to scuttle her that he
might pocket about triple the amount of his venture in insurance money.’
I heard this, and my heart turned hot. I longed to walk up to Captain
Sutherland, look him in the eyes, and call him a beast and a liar. No
one observed me, which was lucky. I was conscious that my face worked
with agitation and that my cheeks were red with the blood which the
captain’s lie had driven into my head. At this point the steward bade
me carry a basket of dirty dishes to the galley, and I stepped out
with my burden upon the quarter-deck.
The evening was black and the wind wet, and it swept athwart the
bulwark-rail with a shriek and a bite of frost. Over the lee-rail the
seas ran from the ship in pale, cloudy heaps. Occasionally the brine
lashed the forecastle like a showering of small shot, and again and
again you’d feel the blow of a sea on the bow striking the ship before
she could rise, and the white water of it was flashed back into the
dark wind, though the hissing body came like a thunder-squall, an
instant later, soaking the decks till the scuppers sobbed again.
I staggered along with the basket of crockery, and passing the sentry,
slipped and slid forward through the convicts’ inclosure till I came to
the ship’s galley. A number of seamen were gathered under the lee of
this place. The red fire of the stove illuminated the fat figure of the
cook as he stood pointing a piece of paper to the flame of the lamp to
light his pipe. Another fellow was busy at a kind of dresser. Against
the closed weather-door leaned the boatswain with folded arms and an
inverted pipe betwixt his lips. It was a hot, snug, mellow interior to
look in upon after the cheerless scene of the decks and the leaning and
waving heights of dim canvas above.
‘So they’ve found work for you, hey?’ said the boatswain, giving me a
large nod. ‘Yet you’d better ha’ stopped at home.’
‘Who’s this?’ said the cook.
‘The youngster as I found rolled up in a spare t’gallan’s’l,’ answered
the boatswain. ‘They’re a-going to keep him in the land o’ knives and
forks.’
‘And you’d rather be a waiter than a steward, Joey?’ said the cook with
a greasy chuckle. ‘I don’t blame you. It’s all night in with us idlers,
and a warm blanket’s better than a lee earing, ain’t it, Mr. Balls? But
what’s brought the covey to ship in this here convick barge?’
‘What ha’ you got there?’ said the fellow at the dresser.
‘Dirty plates,’ said I.
This man, who was the cook’s mate, who had but one eye, and whose
cast of face was certainly more villainous than any of the felons I
had watched taking their exercise that day, put his head out of the
galley-door, and exclaimed: ‘Fire that there steward! Here’s a gallus
look out o’ dishes! If that there perishin’ Stiles could foul six
plates ’stead o’ wan he’d do’t to spite me.’ He continued to grumble
hideously, and I backed away from his ugly tongue and uglier face and
walked toward the cuddy, but slowly, and holding on as I went, for the
decks were steep and greasy and the ship was taking the seas in quick,
angry jumps.
As I passed through the quarter-deck barricade my elbow was touched,
and Will accosted me.
‘I’m going to bounce a mattress out of the steward for you, Marian,’
said he, ‘but as no more lies than can be helped must be told, follow
me.’
I accompanied him up the lee poop-ladder. He led me a little way along
the deck and then crossed it to where a man was standing under the
shelter of one of the quarter-boats.
‘Here’s this stowaway lad asked me to help him to a mattress, sir,’
he exclaimed. ‘They’ve given him a bunk in the steerage, but there’s
nothing in it to lie upon.’
‘He deserves the cat for hiding aboard us,’ answered the man, who was
indeed Mr. Bates, the first mate. ‘What have they put him to, d’ye
know, Johnstone?’
‘He’s cuddy bottle-washer, sir.’
‘What’s brought you to sea, you young fool?’
‘I want to get to Tasmania, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you concern yourself in some riot, or turn Irish
politician; they’d have clothed and bedded and fed and sent you across
handsomely, and perhaps have fitted you with a good berth ashore at the
end; instead, you start as a sneak, and, no doubt, you’ll come home as
a sneak. Mattress--mattress--I’ve got nothing to do with that. Shift
for yourself and be off.’
I went on to the quarter-deck, wondering what on earth Will meant by
taking me to the mate, as though to provoke him to abuse me. Before I
entered the cuddy my cousin was at my elbow. You will remember that it
was very dark and nobody but the sentry was on the quarter-deck.
‘It’s all right,’ said he eagerly. ‘I’ll manage it now. Wait a bit. You
must have a bed to lie on, you know. Don’t take to heart what the mate
says. It’s his duty to growl at you, but as a man he’s sound to the
heels.’
They were still at table in the cuddy. It was hard to realise that the
vessel was a prison-ship when you looked at this bright, rich interior,
with its soft yellow lamps flashing under the skylights and the
looking-glasses reduplicating the sparkling and hospitable furniture of
the table. It was like passing from another state of life to enter this
brightness and warmth from the wet and nipping blackness outside, with
the grim, dark figure of the sentry, the barricades, the blackness and
silence of the sentinelled main-hatch.
The steward sent me to the pantry to wash glasses, and I went with his
assistant, a fellow named Franz or Frank, a young German. I had not
before known him for a German; I believe I had not heard him speak. He
was a freckled, ginger-coloured man, as expressionless of face as an
oyster. But he was good-tempered and willing, and when we were in the
pantry washing glasses he said that he hoped we should be friends. I
answered it would not be my fault if we were not good friends. On this
he shook hands with me and asked if I was ever in Germany. He wished
to know why I had stowed myself away in this convict ship and if I had
friends in Tasmania.
‘I need not have hidden,’ said I. ‘My friends are well-to-do.’
‘Dot I can believe,’ said he, polishing a tumbler and closing one eye
while he held it to the lamp. ‘You vhas a young gentleman. Dot I hear
in your voice. Maybe you vhas more of a gentleman dan some dot ve vaits
on. How do you like Mr. Stiles?’ naming the steward.
‘He is a funny man.’
‘How vhas he funny?’ said he.
‘He made you laugh heartily when he talked to me.’
‘Dot vhas to please him. For my part----’ He shrugged his shoulders. He
then inquired if I had agreed for any wages, and expressed sorrow that
we were not to share a berth. ‘I likes to make you my chum--dot is der
verdt--whilst ve vhas togedder.’
Presently the steward called to us, and when I entered the cuddy I
found Mr. Bates at table and the captain and officers gone. Mr. Bates
was very quick with his dinner. He had charge of the deck. I believe he
was not above ten minutes in despatching his meal. He took no notice of
me. When he was gone, I helped the two stewards to strip the table, and
whilst this was doing Will Johnstone put his head in at the cuddy door
and called to the steward.
‘There’s some spare convicts’ mattresses stowed away aft,’ said he, in
the peremptory voice of the sea. ‘You’re to let Marlowe have one; and
throw in a couple of the convicts’ blankets for his use. D’ye hear me,
steward?’
‘Yes, I hear you, young gentleman,’ answered the steward. ‘But who sent
me that bit of noose?’
Will, however, had backed a step and disappeared in the blackness.
‘The order comes from Mr. Bates, I expect,’ said I. ‘I stepped on to
the poop some time since, to see if he’d let me have a mattress.’
‘Well, pink me if you was behind the door when cheek was sarved out,’
said the steward. ‘Did he offer to throw you overboard?’
‘He asked me many questions. Mr. Bates seems one of the kindest-hearted
of men.’
The steward stared at me for a moment, muttered to himself, and then,
with something of an agitated hand, proceeded in his work of stripping
the table. However, Will’s ruse, or ‘bounce,’ as he had called it,
proved successful. Mr. Stiles, of course, supposed that the apprentice
had come with direct instructions; and when he had cleared the table he
took me into the steerage and, opening a cabin door, held up a lantern
and bade me choose a mattress. A number of convicts’ mattresses lay
stowed here, every one with a little pillow attached to it, and every
one was numbered, as though as a provision for a larger assemblage of
miscreants than had been shipped. Here, also, were two or three bales
of spare blankets, to a couple of which I helped myself; and now,
thanks to Will, I had a bed to lie on and clothes to cover me.
In my own berth, as I may call it, I said to the steward, pointing to
the bundle in the upper bunk: ‘That can be left there. It will not be
in the way.’
‘What is it?’ said he. ‘Oh, it was brought aboard just afore we
started, and the captain gave it to me, thinking it might belong to
some of the soldiers or their wives as’d presently be claiming it.
It’s a herror,’ said he, looking at the parcel, ‘though the name of
this vessel’s wrote big enough for a monkey to read without glasses.
Let it lie. It’s out of the ways here.’ Then, looking around him,
he lost his temper. ‘Here’s a pretty go!’ he cried. ‘To think of a
Woolwich stowaway berthed in such a beautiful bedroom as this here!
It’s a-flying in the face of right, and it’s a-courting and caressing
of wickedness to make any one as has done wrong so comfortable. If this
gets wind, suffocate me if stowaways won’t breed thick as fleas in
vessels’ holds! But you’ll have to work.’
‘I’ll work, and work well,’ said I, smiling; ‘and as you treat me so
shall your reward be.’
He held the lantern to my face and said: ‘Where?’
‘Hobart Town.’
‘There’s no use a-dangling that sort of fly,’ said he; ‘I’m no one-eyed
fish. When I rise, it’s to summat juicy, with ne’er a hook in its
inside. Never you mind about Hobart Town, but turn to and get your
supper.’
I went to the pantry, where I found Frank. We supped off a dish that
had come from the cabin table. Frank informed me that had the captain
sent me to live before the mast, I should never have beheld or tasted
such a dish even in my dreams. ‘They starfs you,’ said he; ‘pork dot
vhas deadt of der measles, und beef dot vhas a horse until dey salt her
down into casks.’ Again he endeavoured to ascertain who I was and what
I meant to do on my arrival in Hobart Town. He said, if my connections
were flourishing people, he’d be very grateful if I’d put in a good
word for him. He was not born to this sort of life; he had seen better
days, wrote a good hand, and could correspond in three tongues. He had
signed articles for the round voyage, but was ready to run from the
ship if a chance offered.
I looked mysterious and smiled knowingly, and said I guessed that when
my friends heard my story they would be glad to do a kindness to any
one who had proved a friend to me during the passage. He put oil into
my cabin-lamp and showed me how to trim it, and assured me that any
little conveniences which he possessed were at my service. I learned
that my work ended at nine. At half-past eight, the materials for grog
were placed upon the cabin table, and at two bells I was at liberty to
go to bed.
‘But you’ll understand,’ said the steward, who gave me this
information, ‘that if all ’ands is called you must turn out. It’ll be
for me to sing down the hatch “All ’ands,” and you don’t stop to dress,
but rush up, for you’re never to know what hawful things ain’t on the
heve of ’appening when that loud cry of “All ’ands” rings through such
a big ship as this, and if you don’t turn out, then of course you’ll be
one of them parties as feel sorry for themselves next day.’
When two bells were struck I went into the recess under the poop to
take a look at the labouring ship and the dark night before going to
bed. The canvas had been reefed at eight o’clock; at that hour, and for
some time after, I had heard the wild hoarse notes of sailors singing
out at the ropes, and the cannonading of heavy sails whose released
halyards had abandoned the slack canvas to the thrashing gale. The ship
was rushing along her course, climbing the high seas and whitening out
the water till the seething waves gleamed like moonlight round about
her. Captain Barrett and the doctor were playing at chess in the cuddy;
the subaltern looked on with a paper cigar drooping at his mouth. All
seemed dark and at rest down the hatch where the soldiers’ quarters
were. I thought to myself if this ship were to strike another and
founder, what chance for their lives would the two hundred and thirty
men below have, lying, for all I knew, in their irons, so battened down
that nothing short of an explosion could lift the hatch for them.
A figure approached and peered in my face; the cabin lamp-light was
upon him; it was Will.
‘Is that you?’ said he doubtfully.
On my replying, he put his hand into his pocket and gave me a little
parcel. ‘Here’s a pencil and paper for you, Marian,’ said he. ‘Be
mighty careful in writing, and don’t mention my name. You can’t be too
cautious. The sentries’ eyes are as keen as their bayonets. Have you a
mattress?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’
‘I am off in a minute.’
‘This is no place for you. I wish you were at home in Stepney.’ He went
on to the poop, and I descended to my berth.