"Hullo, Weeks!" cried Tom Jerrold, coming up at the moment and grinning
at him rolling in the scuppers. "What's the matter, old fellow? You
seem rather down."
"Begorra, he's ownly havin' a cooler to aise that nashty timper av his
own," said the boatswain from the door of his cabin, which was just next
ours in the deck-house, only more forward. And then, turning to me, he
added, "Sure an' that wor a purty droive, Misther Gray-ham; ye lit him
have it straight from the shouldher."
"I'm sure I didn't mean to hurt him," I answered, sorry now for my
opponent as he scrambled at last up on his feet, looking very bedraggled
and showing on his face the signs of the fray. "I only held out my hand
to save the poor bird, and he ran against my fist."
"Oh, did you?" slobbered Weeks, half crying, in a savage, vindictive
voice, and rushing at me as soon as he rose up. "You spiteful beggar!
Well, two can play at that game, and I'll pay you out for it if you've
got pluck enough to fight!"
"Be aisy now," interposed Tim Rooney, stepping between us and holding
him back. "Sure an' if y're spilin' for a batin' I'm not the chap to
privint you; but, if you must foight, why ye'll have to do it fair an'
square. Misther Gray-ham, sorr, jist give me the burrd as made the
rumpus, I've a little cage in me bunk that'll sarve the poor baste for
shilter till ye can get a betther one. It belonged to me ould canary as
toorned up its toes last v'y'ge av a fit av the maysles."
"The measles?" exclaimed Tom Jerrold, bursting into a laugh. "I never
heard of a bird dying of that complaint before."
"Faix, thin, ye can hear it now," said the boatswain with some heat.
"An', sure, I don't say whare the laugh comes in, me joker! Didn't its
faythers dhrop off av the poor craythur, an' its skin toorn all spotty,
jist loike our friend Misther Wake's phiz here; an' what could that be,
sure, but the maysles, I'd loike to know?"
"All right, bosun; I daresay you're right," hastily rejoined Jerrold to
appease him; but he made me smile, however, by his efforts to look
grave, although my own affairs were just then in such a critical
position, with the prospect of a battle before me. "I was only laughing
at the idea of a canary with the measles; but I've no doubt they have
them the same as we do, and other things like us, too."
"In coorse they does, an' plinty of tongue, too, loike some chaps I've
come across on shipboard!" replied Tim, all himself again in all good
humour; and then, popping into his cabin, he reappeared quickly with the
cage he had mentioned, saying to me, "Sorr, give me the burrd."
I had a little difficulty in extricating the starling from its safe
retreat, for it had crept within my flannel shirt inside my jacket,
tickling me as it moved; but, going carefully to work, I finally
succeeded in taking it out without hurting it. Then, placing the little
fluttering thing in the cage, the boatswain bore it off to his bunk,
giving me an expressive wink as he took it away, as if to say that it
would be safer and more out of harm's way in his keeping, albeit I was
quite at liberty to reclaim the bird when I pleased.
"Now, jintlemin," said Tim, addressing Weeks and myself after putting
the innocent cause of our quarrel inside his cabin and locking the door
to prevent accidents, as he shrewdly observed, "if ye're both av ye
riddy an' willin', as it's goin' on for the sicond dog-watch, whin all
hands are allers allowed at say to skoilark an' devart theirsilves, ye
can follow me out on the fo'c's'le, me jokers, an' have y'r shindy out
fairly in a friendly way."
I didn't want to fight Weeks, I'm sure; for I was not of a quarrelsome
disposition, besides which my father had cautioned me against ever
having any disputes with my comrades, if I could avoid such; although he
told me also at the same time always to act courageously in the defence
of my principles and of my rights, or when I took the part of another
unable to defend himself. Here, therefore, was a quarrel forced upon
me, almost against my will, to save the poor starling's life; and,
beyond that, the aggravating way in which Weeks looked at me and shook
his fist in my face would have provoked even a better-tempered boy than
I. Tom Jerrold said afterwards that I turned quite white, as I always
did when excited; while Weeks, on the contrary, was naming with fury and
as red as a lobster.
"Come on, you coward!" he blustered, thinking I was afraid of him.
"I'll soon let you know what it is to have a good hiding, my fine
gentleman of a parson's son. You only floored me just now because you
caught me unawares."
"I'm quite ready, Mr Rooney," said I to the boatswain, paying no
attention to the cur's snobbish bravado; but I felt his sneer against my
father's profession keenly, and had to bite my lip to prevent myself
from replying to it. I added, however, for his personal benefit as I
turned my back on him in contempt, "Those who crow the loudest, I've
heard, generally do the least when the time for real action comes!"
"Thrue for ye, Mister Gray-ham," cried Tim Rooney. "Brag's a good dog,
but Howldfast's the bist for my money. Come on wid ye, though, to the
fo'c's'le if ye manes foightin'; for we've had palaverin' enough now in
all conshinsh!"
So saying, the boatswain led the way forward, Tom Jerrold, who dearly
loved anything in the way of a spree, and was overjoyed at the prospect
of what he called "a jolly row," following with Weeks, to make sure that
he did not back out of the contest at the last moment, which, knowing
his cowardly character very well, as Tom told me afterwards, he
anticipated his doing. I brought up the rear--and so we proceeded
towards the bows of the ship along the lee-side of the deck, so as to
escape the observation of Captain Gillespie and Mr Mackay. These were
standing together, I noticed when the starling flew on board, by the
rail on the weather side of the poop, where they were having a good
look-out to windward, and watching some clouds that were piling
themselves in black masses along the eastern sky--shutting out the last
vestiges of land in the distance, already now become hazy from the mist
rising from the sea after sunset.
Passing under the bellying main-sail, whose clew-garnet blocks rattled
as it expanded to the breeze, which was now blowing pretty stiff, with
every indication of veering more round to the north, causing the yards
to have a pull taken at the braces every now and then, our little
procession soon got clear of the deck-house that occupied the centre of
the main-deck, finally gaining the more open space between the cook's
galley at the end and the topgallant forecastle.
Here, the folds of the foresail, swelled out like a balloon, interposed
like a curtain betwixt the after-glow of the setting sun and ourselves,
the shadows of the upper sails, too, making it darker than on the after
part of the deck whence we had started; but it was still quite light
enough for me to see the expression on Weeks' mottled face as he stood
opposite me.
Not much time was wasted in preliminaries, the boatswain, who acted as
master of the ceremonies, placing me against the windlass bitts while my
opponent had his back to the galley, what light there was remaining
shining full upon him.
I had been present at one or two fights before, at the school I used to
attend at Westham, where the boys used to settle their differences
generally at the bottom of the playground under a little clump of shady
trees that were grouped there, which shut off the view of the house and
the headmaster's eye; but never previously had the surroundings of any
similar pugilistic encounter seemed so strange as now!
As usual in such cases, the news had circulated through the ship with
astonishing rapidity, considering that only a couple of minutes or so at
most had elapsed since I had saved the starling and knocked down Weeks;
for the whole crew, with the exception of two or three hands standing by
the braces and the man at the wheel, appeared to scent the battle from
afar, and were now gathered near the scene of action--some on the
forecastle with their legs dangling over, others in the lower rigging,
whence they could command the issues of the fray.
It was a pitiful contrast!
Here was the noble vessel surging through the gradually rising sea, with
her towering masts and spreading canvas, and the wind whistling through
the cordage, and the water coming every now and then over her bows in a
cascade of iridescent spray, as the fast-fading gleams of the sunset lit
it up, or else rushing by the side of the ship like a mill-race as we
plunged through it, welling in at the scuppers as it washed inboard.
All illustrated the grandeur of nature, the perfection of art; while
there, on the deck, under the evening sky and amid all the glories of
the waning glow in the western horizon and the grandeur of the sea in
its might and the ship in its beauty and power over the winds and waves
alike, were we two boys standing up to fight each other, with a parcel
of bearded men who ought to have known better grouped round eagerly
awaiting the beginning of the combat.
A contrast, but yet only an illustration of one of the ordinary phases
of human nature after all, as father would have said, I thought, this
reflection passing through my mind with that instantaneous spontaneity
with which such fancies do occur to one, as Rooney placed me in my
assigned position. Then, recalling my mind to the present, I noticed
that Matthews, my whilom fellow apprentice and lately promoted third
mate, sinking the dignity of his new rank, had come forward to act as
the second, or backer, of my opponent, who must have sent some message
aft to summon him.
"Now, me bhoys, are ye riddy?" sang out the boatswain, who stood on the
weather side of the deck, glancing first at me and then at Weeks. "One,
two, thray--foire away!"
I was not quite a novice in the use of my fists, my brother Tom, who,
before he went to Oxford and got priggish, had bought a set of boxing-
gloves, having made me put them on with him, sometimes, and showed me
how to keep a firm guard and when to hit. My experience was invariably
to get the worst of these amicable encounters, for I used to be knocked
off my pins, besides feeling my forehead soft and pulpy; for, no matter
how well padded gloves may be, a fellow can give a sturdy punch with
them, or appreciate one, all the same. Still, the practice stood me in
good stead on this eventful occasion, especially as my brother had well
drilled me into being light on my feet and dexterous in the art of
stepping forward to deliver a blow and backward to avoid one--no small
advantage, and the resource of science over brute force.
So, holding my right arm well across my chest and just about level with
it, so that I could raise it either up or down as quick as lightning, to
protect my face or body, I advanced my left fist, and waited for Sam
Weeks to come on with a rush, as I was certain he would do, bracing
myself well on my legs to receive the shock, although the pitching of
the ship made me somewhat more uncertain of my equilibrium than if the
combat had taken place ashore.
My antagonist acted exactly as I had expected.
Whirling his arms round like those of a windmill, he beat down my guard
and gave me a nasty thump with one of them on the side of the head, for
being lanky, as I said, he had a longer reach than I; however, as he got
in close enough, my left fist caught him clean between the eyes again,
landing on the identically same spot where I had hit him before, the
place being already swollen, and whereas I only staggered against the
windlass from his blow, mine sent him tumbling backwards, and he would
have fallen on the deck if Matthews had not held him up just in time.
"Bray-vo, dark 'un!" shouted one of the men standing around,
complimenting me on having the best of this first exchange, and alluding
no doubt to the colour of my hair, which was dark brown while that of
Weeks was quite sandy, like light Muscovado sugar. "Give him a one-two
next time; there's nothing like the double!"
"I'll back freckles," cried another; "he's got more go in him!"
"Arrah, laive 'em alone, can't ye?" said the boatswain, as we faced each
other again. "Don't waste y'r toime, sure. Go it, ye chripples; an'
may the bist av ye win, sez I!"
The next two rounds had somewhat similar results to the first, I keeping
up a steady defence and hitting my antagonist pretty nearly in the same
place each time, while he gave me a couple of swinging blows, one of
which made my mouth bleed, whereat his admirers were in high glee,
especially Matthews, his second, for I heard the latter say to him,
"Only go on and you'll soon settle him now, Sam!"
My friend the boatswain, however, was equally sanguine as to the result,
as his encouraging advice to me showed.
"Kape y'r pecker up, Misther Gray-ham. Sure, he's gittin' winded, as
all av thim lane an' lanky chaps allers does arter a bit," said Tim,
wiping the blood away that was trickling from my lip with his soft silk
handkerchief, which he took off from his own neck for the purpose.
"Begorra, ye've ownly to hammer at his chist an' body, me lad; an' ye'll
finish him afore ye can say `Jack Robinson,' an' it's no lie I'm
tellin'!"
Hitherto I had been merely acting on the defensive, and parrying the
blows rained on me by Weeks in his impetuous rushes, more than hitting
in return; for only keeping my left fist well out and allowing him to
meet it as he so pleased, and which, strange to say, whether he wished
it or not, he did so meet.
But now, thinking it time to end matters, the sight of the blood the
boatswain had wiped from my face somehow or other bringing out what I
suppose was the innate savagery of my nature, I determined to carry the
war into the enemy's camp; or, in other words, instead of standing to be
struck at, to lead the attack myself.
As Weeks, therefore, advanced with a grin, confidently as before,
thinking that I should merely remain on guard, I threw my left straight
out, swinging all the weight of my body in the blow; and then, stepping
forwards, I gave him the benefit of my right fist, the one following up
the other in quick succession, although I acted on Tim's advice, and
directed my aim towards his body.
The result of these new tactics of mine altered alike the complexion not
only of the fight but that of my antagonist as well; for he went down on
the deck with a heavy dull thud, almost all his remaining breath knocked
out of him.
"Hurrah, the little un wins!" cheered some of the hands; while others
rejoined in opposition, "The lanky one ain't licked yet!"
But, to my especial friend the boatswain the end of the contest was now
a foregone conclusion and victory assured to me.
"Bedad, me bhoy," he whispered in my ear as he prepared me for what
turned out to be the final round of the battle, "that last dhroive av
yourn wor loike the kick av a horse, or a pony anyhow! One more brace
av them one-twos, Misther Gray-ham, an' he'll be kilt an' done wid!"
It was as Rooney said.
Matthews forced Weeks well-nigh against his will to face me once more,
when my double hit again floored him incontinently, when the ship,
giving a lurch to leeward at the same time, rolled him into the
scuppers, as before at our first encounter.
This settled the matter, for, with all the pluck taken out of him and
completely cowed, Master Sammy did not offer to rise until Matthews,
catching hold of his collar, forcibly dragged him to his feet.
"Three cheers for the little un!" shouted one of the hands, as I stood
triumphant on the deck in their midst, the hero of the moment, sailors
following the common creed of their fellow men in worshipping success.
"Hooray!"
A change came over the scene, however, the next instant.
For, ere the last note of the cheer had ceased ringing out from their
lusty throats, Captain Gillespie's long nose came round the corner of
the cook's caboose, followed shortly afterwards by the owner of the
article--causing Ching Wang, who had been surveying the progress of the
fight with much enjoyment, to retreat instantly within his galley, the
smile of satisfaction on his yellow oval face and twinkle of his little
pig-like eyes being replaced by that innocent look of one conscious of
rectitude and in whom there is no guile, affected by most of his
celestial countrymen.
"Hullo, bosun!" cried the captain, addressing Tim Rooney, who was
helping me to put on my jacket again, and endeavouring, rather
unsuccessfully, to conceal all traces of the fray on my person. "What
the dickens does all this mean?"
"Sorry o' me knows, sorr, why them omahdawns is makin' all av that row
a-hollerin'," said Tim, scratching his head as he always did when
puzzled for the moment for an answer. "It's ownly Misther Gray-ham,
sorr, an' Misther Wakes havin' a little bit of foon togither, an'
settlin' their differses in a frindly way, loike, sorr."
"Fighting, I suppose,--eh?"
An ominous stillness succeeded this question, the men around following
Ching Whang's example and sneaking inside the forecastle and otherwise
slily disappearing from view. Presently, only Tim Rooney and Matthews
remained before the captain besides us two, the principals of the fight,
and Tom Jerrold, who, blocked between Captain Gillespie and the caboose,
could not possibly manage to get away unperceived.
"Yes, there's no doubt you've been fighting," continued the captain,
looking from Weeks to me and from me to Weeks, and seeming to take
considerably more interest than either of us cared for in our bruised
knuckles and battered faces and generally dilapidated appearance; for
his long nose turned up scornfully as he sniffed and expanded his
nostrils, compressing his thin lips at the end of his inspection with an
air of decision. "Well, youngsters, I'd have you to know that I don't
allow fighting aboard my ship, and when I say a thing I mean a thing.
There!"
"But, sir," snivelled Weeks, beginning some explanation, intended no
doubt to throw all the blame on me. "Graham--"
Captain Gillespie, however, interrupted him before he could proceed any
further.
"You'd better not say anything, Weeks," said the captain. "Graham's a
new hand and you're an old one; at least, you've already been one
voyage, whilst this is his first. I see you've had a lickin' and I'm
glad of it, as I daresay it's been brought about by your own bullying;
for I know you, Master Samuel Weeks, by this time, and you can't take me
in as you used to do with your whining ways! If I didn't believe you
were pretty well starched already, I'd give you another hiding now, my
lad. Please, my good young gentleman, just to oblige me, go up in the
mizzen-top so that I can see you're there, and stop till I call you
down! As for you, Matthews, whom I have just promoted I'm surprised at
your forgetting yourself as an officer, and coming here forrud, to take
part with the crew in a disgraceful exhibition like this. I--"
"Please, sir--" expostulated the culprit. But the captain was firm on
the matter of discipline, as I came to know in time.
"You'll go aft at once, Mr Matthews," he said, waving him away with his
outstretched arm. "Another such dereliction from duty and you shall
come forrud altogether, as you appear to like the fo'c's'le so well. I
have made you third officer; but bear in mind that if I possess the
power to make, I can break too!"
It was now Tim Rooney's turn, the captain wheeling round on him as soon
as he'd done with Matthews.
"Really, bosun," he said, "I didn't think a respectable man like you
would encourage two boys to fight like that!"
"Bedad it wor ownly to privint their bein' onfrindly, sorr," pleaded
Tim, looking as much ashamed as his comical twinkling left eye would
permit. "I thought it'd save a lot av throuble arterwards, spakin' as
regards mesilf, sorr; fur I'm niver at paice onless I'm in a row, sure!"
"Ha, a nice way of making friends--pummelling each other to pieces and
upsetting my ship," retorted Captain Gillespie. But, as Tim Rooney made
no answer, thinking discretion the better part of valour in this
instance, and going up into the bows as if to look out forward, the
captain then addressed me: "Graham!"
"Yes, sir," said I, awaiting my sentence with some trepidation. "I'm
very sorry, sir, for what has happened, I--"
"There, I want no more jaw," he replied, hastily snapping me up before I
could say another word. "I saw all that occurred, though neither of you
thought I was looking. Weeks rushed at you, and you hit him; and then
this precious hot-headed bosun of mine made you `have it out,' as he
calls it, in `a friendly way,' the idiot, in his Irish bull fashion!
But, as I told you, I won't have any fighting here, either between boys
or men, and when I say a thing I mean a thing; so, to show I allow no
relaxation of discipline on board so long as I'm captain, Master Graham,
you'll be good enough to remain on deck to-night instead of going to
bed, and will keep the middle watch from `eight bells' to morning."
"Very good, sir," I replied, bowing politely, having already taken off
my cap on his speaking to me; and I then went back to our deck-house
cabin and had a lie down, as I felt pretty tired. Ching Wang, however,
came to rouse me up soon afterwards with a pannikin of hot coffee, his
way of showing his appreciation of my conduct in the fray, and I
subsequently went with Tim Rooney to see the starling--which made me
quite forget all about being tired and having to stop up all night, and
that Tom Jerrold had escaped any punishment for his presence at the
fight!
At eight o'clock, when it was quite dark, we passed Beachy Head, seeing
the light in the distance; and then, feeling hungry again, I went to the
steward in the cuddy and got something to eat, meeting there poor Weeks,
whom the captain had only just called down from his perch in the mizzen-
top, very cold and shivery from being so long up there in his wet
clothes in the night air.
He looked rather grimly at me, and from the light in the saloon I
noticed that he had a lovely pair of black eyes; but, on my stretching
out my hand to him, we made friends, and agreed to bury all the
disagreeable occurrences of the day in oblivion.
We had a lot of yarning together until midnight inside the deck-house,
where Tom Jerrold lay an his bunk snoring away, utterly regardless of
our presence; and then, on Mr Mackay's summoning me, by the captain's
order as he told me, to keep watch with him on the poop, I went up the
ladder and remained with him astern, watching the ship bowling along
under all plain sail, with the same buoyant breeze behind her with which
we had started.
"Now, Graham," said Mr Mackay at daybreak, when we were just off Saint
Catharine's Point in the Isle of Wight, as he informed me, "you can go
and turn in. Bosun, call the starboard watch!"
"Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim Rooney from the bows, where he had been
keeping his vigils, too, like us aft. "Starbowlines, ahoy--!"
I only remained on the poop while the man at the wheel was being
relieved, and Mr Saunders, the second mate, came on deck to take Mr
Mackay's place; when, going below to the deck-house cabin, I was soon in
my little shelf of a bed, falling asleep more quickly, I think, than I
had ever done before; doing so, indeed, almost the instant I got within
the blankets.
The next day, at noon, we tore by the Start, and, later on, that noblest
monument a man could have, the Eddystone, Smeaton's glory; the ship
racing down Channel as if all the sea-nymphs were chasing us, and old
Neptune, too, at their heels to hurry them on, with his tritons after
him.
Our average speed all that day was a good ten knots, the wind never
shifting and every sail drawing fore and aft. Sometimes it was even
more, according to Tom Jerrold's calculations, he having to heave the
log at intervals and turn the fourteen-second glass, his especial duty,
in order to determine our rate of progress through the water; but I
don't think it was ever less from the time the sun rose in the morning.
At all events, the Silver Queen made such good use of her time that, at
six o'clock on this evening of our second day under sail, we were up to
the Lizard, the last bit of English shore we should see in a hurry; and
at "six bells" in the first watch, were speeding along some ten miles
south of the Bishop's Rock lightship in the Scilly Isles, really, at
last, at sea!