The other person was a lad a couple of years my senior, called always
"Young Sam," apparently one of those unhappy waifs cast on the bleak
world without relations or friends to care for him. He was a fine young
fellow, with a blue laughing eye, dauntless and active, and promised to
become a good seaman. In spite of the rough treatment he often received
from his shipmates, he kept up his spirits, and as our natures in that
respect assimilated, I felt drawn towards him. The only person who
seemed to take any interest in him, however, was old Tom, who saved him
from many a blow; still, no two characters could apparently have more
completely differed. Young Sam seemed a thoughtless, care-for-nothing
fellow, always laughing and jibing those who attacked him, and ready for
any fun or frolic which turned up. He appreciated, however, old Tom's
kindness; and the only times I saw him look serious were when he
received a gentle rebuke from his friend for any folly he had committed
which had brought him into trouble. I believe, indeed, that young Sam
would have gone through fire and water to show his gratitude to old Tom,
while I suspect that the latter, in spite of his harsh exterior, had a
heart not altogether seared by the world, which required some one on
whom to fix its kindlier feelings.
I had been some time on board when we put into a port at the Falkland
Islands, then uninhabited, to obtain a supply of water. While the crew
of the boats were engaged in filling the casks, Mr Duncan, one of the
gentlemen, taking young Sam with him, went into the interior to shoot
wild-fowl.
The casks were filled; and the boats, after waiting for some time the
return of Mr Duncan and Sam, came back. Mr Symonds, the second mate,
proposed to return for our shipmates after the casks had been hoisted on
board. The captain seemed very angry at this; and when Mr Symonds was
shoving off from the brig's side, ordered him back. He was hesitating,
when another gentleman jumped into the boat, declaring that he would not
allow his companion to be left behind, and promised the men a reward if
they would shove off. Two of the men agreed to go in the boat, and the
mate, with the rest, coming up the side, they pulled away for the shore.
The captain walked the deck, fuming and raging, every now and then
turning an angry glance at the land and pulling out his watch. "He
means mischief," muttered old Tom in my hearing; "but if he thinks to
leave young Sam ashore to die of starvation, he is mistaken."
The night drew on, and the boat had not returned. My watch being over,
I turned in, supposing that the brig would remain at anchor till the
morning. I was, however, awakened in the middle watch by old Tom's
voice. "Come on deck, Jack," he said; "there's mischief brewing; the
captain had a quarrel with Mr Duncan the other day, and he hates young
Sam for his impudence, as he calls it, and so I believe he intends to
leave them behind if he can do so; but he is mistaken. We will not lift
anchor till they are safe on board, or a party has been sent to look for
them. They probably lost their way, and could not get back to the
harbour before dark. There are no wild beasts or savages on shore, and
so they could not come to harm; you slip into the cabin, and call the
other gentlemen, and I'll manage the crew, who have just loosed
topsails, and are already at the windlass with the cable hove short."
I was on deck in an instant, and, keeping on one side, while the captain
was on the other, managed to slip into the cabin. I told the gentlemen
of old Tom's suspicions, and observed that the captain probably thought
those in the boat would return without Mr Duncan and Sam, when they saw
the vessel making sail.
They instantly began to dress; and one of them, a spirited young
Highlander, Mr McIvor, put a brace of pistols into his belt and
followed me on deck. I tried to escape being seen by the captain, but
he caught sight of me, I was sure, though I stooped down and kept close
to the bulwarks as I crept for'ard.
By this time the men were heaving at the windlass, which they continued
to do, in spite of what old Tom said to them. The captain had overheard
him, and threatened to knock the first man down with a handspike who
ceased to work. Old Tom, however, had got one in his hand, and the
captain did not dare to touch him. In another instant I heard Mr
McIvor's voice exclaiming, "What is this all about, Captain Pyke? What!
are you going to leave our friends on shore?"
"If your friends don't come off at the proper time they must take the
consequences," answered the captain. "Then, what I have got to say,
Captain Pyke, is, that I'll not allow them to be deserted, and that I
intend to carry out my resolution with a pretty strong argument--the
instant the anchor leaves the ground I'll shoot you through the head."
"Mutiny! mutiny!" shouted the captain, starting back, "seize this man
and heave him overboard." As he spoke the other two gentlemen made
their appearance, and old Tom and I, with two or three others, stepped
up close to them, showing the captain the side we intended to take.
Neither of the mates moved, while the men folded their arms and looked
on, showing that they did not intend to interfere.
"Very well, gentlemen," cried the captain, "I see how matters stand--you
have been bribing the crew. I'll agree to wait for the boat, and if she
does not come with the missing people we must give them up for lost."
"That depends upon circumstances," said Mr McIvor, returning his pistol
to his belt. He and the rest continued to walk the deck, while the
captain went, muttering threats of vengeance, into his cabin.
None of us after this turned in. In a short time the splash of oars was
heard, and the boat came alongside. "We have come for food," said Mr
Fraser, one of the gentlemen who had gone in her. "I intend going back
at daylight, and must get two or three others to accompany me. We will
then have a thorough search for Duncan and the boy--there is no doubt
that they have lost their way, and if we fire a few muskets, they will,
with the help of daylight, easily find the harbour. Mr McIvor promised
to accompany his friend, and I volunteered to go also."
"No, Jack," said old Tom, "you remain with me. If we all go, the
captain may be playing us some trick." I don't know what side old Tom
would have taken if it had not been for young Sam. Judging by his usual
conduct, I suspect that he would have stood with his arms folded, and
let the rest, as he would have said, fight it out by themselves.
At daylight the boat pulled away with Mr McIvor and another additional
hand, taking a couple of muskets with them. Shortly afterwards the
captain appeared on deck--though he cast frequent angry glances towards
the shore, he said nothing--probably he could not afford to lose so many
hands, as there were now four away, besides the two gentlemen, while the
aspect of old Tom, with the rest of the crew, kept him from attempting
to carry out his evil intentions. Two or three times, notwithstanding
this, I thought he was about to order the anchor to be hove up; but
again he seemed to hesitate, and at length, towards noon, the boat was
seen coming off, with Mr Duncan and Sam in her. The captain said
nothing to the gentlemen, but, as soon as the boat was hoisted up, he
began to belabour poor Sam with a rope's end. He was still striking the
lad, when old Tom stepped between them, grasping a handspike. "What has
the lad done, sir?" he exclaimed. "Why not attack Mr Duncan? If
anyone is to blame for the delay, he is the person, not young Sam." The
gentlemen were advancing while old Tom was speaking, and several of the
crew cried out shame. The captain again found himself in the minority,
and, without replying to old Tom, walked aft, muttering between his
teeth.
These incidents will give some idea of the state of matters on board the
ship.
We now made sail, with a gentle breeze right aft, but scarcely had we
lost sight of the islands when a heavy gale sprang up. The lighter
canvas was instantly handed--young Sam and one of the men who had gone
in the boat were ordered out on the jibboom to furl the flying-jib. As
they were about this work, a tremendous sea struck the bows, the gaskets
got loose, the jibboom was carried away, and with it the two poor
fellows who were endeavouring to secure the sail. The captain, who had
seen the accident, took no notice of it, but the first mate, not wishing
to have their death on his conscience, sprang aft and ordered the ship
to be brought to, while others hove overboard every loose piece of
timber, empty casks, or hencoops, which they could lay hands on, to give
our shipmates a chance of escape. Old Tom and I instantly ran to the
jolly-boat, and were easing off the falls, when I felt myself felled to
the deck by a blow on the head, the captain's voice exclaiming, "What,
you fools, do you wish to go after them and be drowned too?" When I
came to myself I saw the boat made fast, and could just distinguish the
articles thrown overboard floating astern, while old Tom was standing
gazing at them with sorrowful looks, the eyes of all on board, indeed,
being turned in the same direction.
"It would have been no use, Jack," he said, heaving a deep sigh; "the
captain was right, the boat couldn't have lived two minutes in this sea,
but I would have risked my life to try and save young Sam, though, for
your sake, my boy, it's better as it is."
After this the ship was put on her course, and we stood on, plunging
away into the heavy seas which rose around us, and threatened every
instant to break on board the brig. The passengers looked, and, I
daresay, felt very melancholy at the accident, for young Sam especially,
was liked by them, and on that account Mr Duncan had taken him on his
expedition. Old Tom could scarcely lift up his head, and even the rest
of the crew refrained from their usual gibes and jokes. The captain
said nothing, but I saw by the way he treated the first mate that he was
very savage with him for the part he had taken in attempting to save the
poor fellows.
After this old Tom was kinder than ever to me, and evidently felt
towards me as he had towards young Sam, whose duties as everybody's
servant I had now to take, being the youngest on board, and least able
to hold my own against the captain's tyranny, and the careless and often
rough treatment of the crew.
I had some time before told poor young Sam how I used to be called
"Happy Jack," and he went and let out what I had said among the men.
When one of them started me with a rope's end, he would sing out,
"That's for you, `Happy Jack.'" Another would exclaim, "Go and swab the
deck down, `Happy Jack;'" or, "`Happy Jack,' go and help Mungo to clean
out the caboose, I hope you are happy now--pleasant work for a young
gentleman, isn't it?"
"Look you," I replied one day, when this remark was made to me, "I am
alive and well, and hope some day to see my home and friends, so,
compared to the lot of poor young Sam and Dick Noland, who are fathoms
deep down in the ocean, I think I have a right to say I am happy--your
kicks and cuffs only hurt for a time, and I manage soon to forget them.
If it's any pleasure to you to give them, all I can say is, that it's a
very rum sort of pleasure; and now you have got my opinion about the
matter."
"That's the spirit I like to see," exclaimed old Tom, slapping me on the
back soon afterwards, "You'll soon put a stop to that sort of thing." I
found he was right; and, though I had plenty of dirty work to do, still,
after that, not one of the men ever lifted his hand against me. The
captain, however, was not to be so easily conquered, and so I took good
care to stand clear of him whenever I could.
The rough weather continued till we had made Cape Horn, which rose dark
and frowning out of the wild heaving ocean. We were some time doubling
it, and were several days in sight of Terra del Fuego, but we did not
see anything like a burning mountain--indeed, no volcanoes exist at that
end of the Andes.
The weather moderated soon after we were round the Horn, but in a short
time another gale sprung up, during which our bulwarks were battered in,
one of our boats carried away, our bowsprit sprung, and the
foretop-sail, the only canvas we had set, blown to ribbons. Besides
this, we received other damages, which contributed still further to sour
our captain's temper. We were at one time so near the ironbound coast
that there seemed every probability that we should finish off by being
dashed to pieces on the rocks. Happily, the wind moderated, and a fine
breeze springing up, we ran on merrily into the Pacific.
Shortly after, we made the island of Juan Fernandez, and, as I saw its
wood-covered heights rising out of the blue ocean, I could not help
longing to go on shore and visit the scenes I had read about in Robinson
Crusoe. I told old Tom about my wish. Something more like a smile than
I had ever yet seen, rose on his countenance. "I doubt, Jack, that you
would find any traces of the hero you are so fond of," he observed; "I
believe once upon a time an Englishman did live there, left by one of
the ships of Commodore Anson's squadron, but that was long ago, and the
Spaniards have turned it into a prison, something like our Norfolk
Island."