NEWS FROM HOME--A GAM
Shoregoing people have but little notion of the ease with which the
heart of a jack-tar is made to rejoice when he is out on a long voyage.
His pleasures and amusements are so few that he is thankful to make the
most of whatever is thrown in his way. In the whale-fisheries, no
doubt, he has more than enough of excitement, but after a time he gets
used to this, and begins to long for a little variety--and of all the
pleasures that fall to his lot, that which delights him most is to have
a GAM with another ship.
Now, a gam is the meeting of two or more whale-ships, their keeping
company for a time, and the exchanging of visits by the crews. It is
neither more nor less than a jollification on the sea--the inviting of
your friends to feast and make merry in your floating house. There is
this difference, however, between a gam at sea and a party on land,
that your _friends_ on the ocean are men whom you perhaps never saw
before, and whom you will likely never meet again. There is also
another difference--there are no ladies at a gam. This is a great
want, for man is but a rugged creature when away from the refining
influence of woman; but, in the circumstances, of course, it can't be
helped.
We had a gam one day, on this voyage, with a Yankee whale-ship, and a
first-rate gam it was, for, as the Yankee had gammed three days before
with another English ship, we got a lot of news second-hand; and, as we
had not seen a new face for many months, we felt towards those Yankees
like brothers, and swallowed all they had to tell us like men starving
for news.
It was on a fine calm morning, just after breakfast, that we fell in
with this ship. We had seen no whales for a day or two, but we did not
mind that, for our hold was almost full of oil-barrels. Tom Lokins and
I were leaning over the starboard bulwarks, watching the small fish
that every now and then darted through the clear-blue water like
arrows, and smoking our pipes in silence. Tom looked uncommonly grave,
and I knew that he was having some deep and knowing thoughts of his own
which would leak out in time. All at once he took his pipe from his
mouth and stared earnestly at the horizon.
"Bob," said he, speaking very slowly, "if there ain't a ship right off
the starboard beam, I'm a Dutchman."
"You don't mean it!" said I, starting with a feeling of excitement.
Before another word could be uttered, the cry of "Sail ho!" came
ringing down from the mast-head. Instantly the quiet of the morning
was broken; sleepers sprang up and rubbed their eyes, the men below
rushed wildly up the hatchway, the cook came tearing out of his own
private den, flourishing a soup-ladle in one hand and his tormentors in
the other, the steward came tumbling up with a lump of dough in his
fist that he had forgot to throw down in his haste, and the captain
bolted up from the cabin without his hat.
"Where away?" cried he, with more than his usual energy.
"Right off the starboard beam, sir."
"Square the yards! Look alive, my hearties," was the next order; for
although the calm sea was like a sheet of glass, a light air, just
sufficient to fill our top-gallant sails, enabled us to creep through
the water.
"Hurrah!" shouted the men as we sprang to obey.
"What does she look like?" roared the captain.
"A big ship, sir, I think," replied the lookout: "but I can only just
make out the top of her main t-gallan' s'l."--(Sailors scorn to speak
of _top-gallant sails_.)
Gradually, one by one, the white sails of the stranger rose up like
cloudlets out of the sea, and our hearts beat high with hope and
expectation as we beheld the towering canvas of a full-rigged ship rise
slowly into view.
"Show our colours," said the captain.
In a moment the Union Jack of Old England was waving at the mast-head
in the gentle breeze, and we watched anxiously for a reply. The
stranger was polite; his colours flew up a moment after, and displayed
the Stripes and Stars of America.
"A Yankee!" exclaimed some of the men in a tone of slight
disappointment.
I may remark, that our disappointment arose simply from the fact that
there was no chance, as we supposed, of getting news from "home" out of
a ship that must have sailed last from America. For the rest, we cared
not whether they were Yankees or Britons--they were men who could speak
the English tongue, that was enough for us.
"Never mind, boys," cried one, "we'll have a jolly gam; that's a fact."
"So we will," said another, "and I'll get news of my mad Irish cousin,
Terrence O'Flannagan, who went out to seek his fortin in Ameriky with
two shillin's and a broken knife in his pocket, and it's been said he's
got into a government situation o' some sort connected with the
jails--whether as captain or leftenant o' police, or turnkey, I'm not
rightly sure."
"More likely as a life-tenant of one of the cells," observed Bill
Blunt, laughing.
"Don't speak ill of a better man than yerself behind his back,"
retorted the owner of the Irish cousin.
"Stand by to lower the jolly-boat," cried the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Lower away!"
In a few minutes we were leaping over the calm sea in the direction of
the strange ship, for the breeze had died down, and we were too eager
to meet with new faces, and to hear the sound of new voices, to wait
for the wind.
To our joy we found that the Yankee had had a gam (as I have already
said) with an English ship a few days before, so we returned to our
vessel loaded with old newspapers from England, having invited the
captain and crew of the Yankee to come aboard of us and spend the day.
While preparation was being made for the reception of our friends, we
got hold of two of the old newspapers, and Tom Lokins seized one, while
Bill Blunt got the other, and both men sat down on the windlass to
retail the news to a crowd of eager men who tried hard to listen to
both at once, and so could make nothing out of either.
"Hold hard, Tom Lokins," cried one. "What's that you say about the
Emperor, Bill?"
"The Emperor of Roosia," said Bill Blunt, reading slowly, and with
difficulty, "is--stop a bit, messmates, wot can this word be?--the
Emperor of Roosia is----"
"Blowed up with gunpowder, and shattered to a thousand pieces," said
Tom Lokins, raising his voice with excitement, as he read from _his_
paper an account of the blowing up of a mountain fortress in India.
"Oh! come, I say, one at a time, if you please," cried a harpooner; "a
feller can't git a word of sense out of sich a jumble."
"Come, messmates," cried two or three voices, as Tom stopped suddenly,
and looked hard at the paper, "go ahead! wot have ye got there that
makes ye look as wise as an owl? Has war been and broke out with the
French?"
"I do believe he's readin' the births, marriages, and deaths," said one
of the men, peeping over Tom's shoulder.
"Read 'em out, then, can't ye?" cried another.
"I say, Bill Blunt, I think this consarns _you_," cried Tom: "isn't
your sweetheart's name Susan Croft?"
"That's a fact," said Bill, looking up from his paper, "and who has got
a word to say agin the prettiest lass in all Liverpool?"
"Nobody's got a word to say against her," replied Tom; "but she's
married, that's all."
Bill Blunt leaped up as if he had been shot, and the blood rushed to
his face, as he seized the paper, and tried to find the place.
"Where is it, Tom? let me see it with my own two eyes. Oh, here it is!"
The poor man's face grew paler and paler as he read the following
words:--
"Married at Liverpool, on the 5th inst., by the Rev. Charles Manson,
Edward Gordon, Esq., to Susan, youngest daughter of Admiral Croft----"
A perfect roar of laughter drowned the remainder of the sentence.
"Well done, Bill Blunt--Mister Blunt, we'll have to call him
hereafter," said Tom, with a grim smile; "I had no notion you thought
so much o' yourself as to aim at an admiral's daughter."
"All right, my hearties, chaff away!" said Bill, fetching a deep sigh
of relief, while a broad grin played on his weather-beaten visage.
"There's _two_ Susan Crofts, that's all; but I wouldn't give _my_ Susan
for all the admirals' daughters that ever walked in shoe-leather."
"Hallo! here come the Yankees," cried the captain, coming on deck at
that moment.
Our newspapers were thrown down at once, and we prepared to receive our
guests, who, we could see, had just put off from their ship in two
boats. But before they had come within a mile of us, their attention,
as well as ours, was riveted on a most extraordinary sight.
Not more than a hundred yards ahead of our ship, a whale came suddenly
to the surface of the water, seeming, by its wild motions, to be in a
state of terror. It continued for some time to struggle, and lash the
whole sea around it into a white foam.
At once the boats were lowered from both ships, and we went after this
fish, but his motions were so violent, that we found it utterly
impossible to get near enough to throw a harpoon. When we had
approached somewhat closely, we discovered that it had been attacked by
a killer fish, which was fully twenty feet long, and stuck to it like a
leech. The monster's struggles were made in trying to shake itself
free of this tremendous enemy, but it could not accomplish this. The
killer held him by the under jaw, and hung on there, while the whale
threw himself out of the water in his agony, with his great mouth open
like a huge cavern, and the blood flowing so fast from the wound that
the sea was dyed for a long distance round. This killer fought like a
bulldog. It held on until the whale was exhausted, but they passed
away from us in such a confused struggle, that a harpoon could not be
fixed for an hour after we first saw them. On this being done, the
killer let go, and the whale, being already half dead, was soon killed.
The Yankee boats were the first to come up with this fish, so the prize
belonged to them. We were well pleased at this, as we could afford to
let them have it, seeing that we could scarcely have found room to stow
away the oil in our hold. It was the Yankee's first fish, too, so they
were in great spirits about it, and towed it to their ship, singing
"Yankee-doodle" with all their might.
As they passed our boat the captain hailed them.
"I wish you joy of your first fish, sir," said he to the Yankee captain.
"Thank you, stranger. I guess we're in luck, though it ain't a big
one. I say, what sort o' brute was that that had hold of him? Never
seed sich a crittur in all my life."
"He's a killer," said our captain.
"A killer! Guess he just is, and no mistake: if we hadn't helped him,
he'd have done the job for himself! What does he kill him for?"
"To eat him, but I'm told he only eats the tongue. You'll not forget
that you've promised to gam with us to-night," cried our captain, as
they were about to commence pulling again.
"All right, stranger, one half will come to-night, before sundown;
t'other half to-morrow, if the calm holds. Good day. Give way, lads."
The men dipped their oars, and resumed their song, while we pulled back
to our ship. We did not offer to help them, because the fish was a
small one, and the distance they had to go not great.
It was near sunset when, according to promise, the Yankees came on
board, and spent a long evening with us. They were a free,
open-hearted, boastful, conceited, good-humoured set of fellows, and a
jolly night we had of it in the forecastle, while the mates and
captains were enjoying themselves and spinning their yarns in the cabin.
Of course, we began with demands for home-news, and, when we had pumped
out of them every drop they had, we began to songs and spinning yarns.
And it was now that my friend Tom Lokins came out strong, and went on
at such a rate, that he quite won the hearts of our guests. Tom was
not noisy, and he was slow in his talk, but he had the knack of telling
a good story; he never used a wrong word, or a word too many, and,
having a great deal of humour, men could not help listening when he
began to talk.
After this we had a dance, and here I became useful, being able to play
Scotch reels and Irish jigs on the fiddle. Then we had songs and yarns
again. Some could tell of furious fights with whales that made our
blood boil; others could talk of the green fields at home, until we
almost fancied we were boys again; and some could not tell stories at
all. They had little to say, and that little they said ill; and I
noticed that many of those who were perfect bores would cry loudest to
be heard, though none of us wanted to hear them. We used to quench
such fellows by calling loudly for a song with a rousing chorus.
It was not till the night was far spent, and the silver moon was
sailing through the starry sky, that the Yankees left us, and rowed
away with a parting cheer.