"A man in the forepeak--eh?" yelled out Captain Gillespie, all his
complacency gone in a moment, his voice sounding so loudly that it
deadened the moaning of the wind through the shrouds and the creaking of
the ship's timbers, whose groans mingled with the heavy thud of the
waves against her bows as she breasted them, and the angry splash of the
baffled billows as they fell back into the bubbling, hissing cauldron of
broken water through which the noble vessel plunged and rolled, spurning
it beneath her keel in her majesty and might. "A man in the forepeak,
and dead, is he, bosun? I'll bet I'll soon quicken him into life again
with a rope's-end!"
He muttered these last words as he hastily scrambled down the poop
ladder and along the weather side of the main-deck towards the
forecastle, making his way forward with an activity which might have
shamed a younger man.
Mr Mackay at once tumbled after him, and I followed too, as quickly as
I could get along and the motion of the ship would allow me, being
buffeted backwards and forwards like a shuttlecock between the bulwarks
and deck-house in my progress onwards, as well as drenched by the spray,
which came hurtling inboards over the main-chains from windward as it
was borne along by the breeze, wetting everything amidships and soaking
the main-sail as if buckets of water were continually poured over it,
although the air was quite dry and the sun still shining full upon its
swelling surface.
"Begorra, he's as did as a door-nail, sorr," I heard Tim Rooney saying
on my getting up at last to the others, who were grouped with a number
of the crew round the small hatchway under the forecastle leading down
to the forehold below, the cover of which had been slipped off leaving
the dark cavity open. "I ownly filt him jist move once, whin I kicked
him wid me fut unknowns to me, as I wor sayin' about stowin' the cable."
"Dead men don't move," replied the captain sharply, the hands round
grinning at the boatswain's Irish bull. "Some of you idlers there, go
down and fetch this stowaway up and let us see what he's made of."
The boatswain, spurred by Captain Gillespie's rejoinder, was the first
to dive down again into the dark receptacle, where he had previously
been searching to find room for stowing the cable, the anchor having
been hoisted inboard and the chain unshackled on the ship now getting to
sea; and, Tim was quickly followed below by a couple of the other hands,
as many as could comfortably squeeze into the narrow space at their
command.
"On deck, there!" presently called out Tim Rooney from beneath, his
voice sounding hollow and far off.
"Some av ye bind owver the coamin' av the hatch an' hilp us to raise the
poor divil!"
A dozen eager hands were immediately stretched downwards; and, the next
instant, between them all they lifted out of the forepeak the limp body
of a ragged youth, who seemed to be either already dead or dying, not a
movement being discernible in the inert, motionless figure as it was
laid down carefully by the men on the deck, looking like a corpse.
Captain Gillespie, however, was not deceived by these appearances.
"Sluice some water over his face," cried he, after leaning down and
putting his hand on his chest; "he's only swooned away or shamming, for
he's breathing all right. Look, his shirt is moving up and down now."
"I think he must be pretty far gone with starvation," observed Mr
Mackay, bending over the unconscious lad, too, and scrutinising his
pinched features and bony frame. "He could only have stowed himself
down there when we were loading in the docks, and it is now over three
days since we cleared out and started down the river."
"Humph!" growled Captain Gillespie, "the confounded skulker has only
brought it on himself, and sarve him right, too."
"Shame!" groaned one of the men, a murmur of reproach running round
amongst the rest, in sympathy with this expression of opinion against
such an inhuman speech, making the captain look up and cock his ears and
sniff with his long nose, trying to find out who had dared to call him
to account. But, of course, he was unable to do so; and, after glaring
at those near as if he could have "eaten them without salt," as the
saying goes, he bent his eyes down again on Mr Mackay and the
boatswain. These were trying to resuscitate the unfortunate stowaway in
a somewhat more humane way than the captain had suggested; for, while
the mate opened his collar and shirt and lifted his head on his knee,
Tim Rooney sprinkled his face smartly with water from the bucket that
had been dipped over the side and filled.
At first, Tim's efforts were unsuccessful, causing Captain Gillespie to
snort with impatience at his delicate mode of treatment; but, the third
or fourth dash of the cold water at last restored the poor fellow to
consciousness, his eyelids quivering and then opening, while he drew a
deep long breath like a sigh.
He didn't know a bit, though, where he was, his eyes staring out from
their sockets, which had sunk deep into his head, as if he were looking
through us and beyond us to something else--instead of at us close
beside him.
In a moment, however, recollection came back to him and he tried to
raise himself up, only to fall back on Mr Mackay's supporting knee;
and, then, he called out piteously what had probably been his cry for
hours previously as he lay cramped up in the darkness of the forepeak:
"Hey, let Oi out, measter, and Oi'll never do it no more! Oi be clemmed
to da-eth, measter, and th' rats and varmint be a-gnawing on me cruel!
Let Oi out, measter, Oi be dying here in the dark--let Oi out, for
Gawd's sake!"
"It is as I told you," said Mr Mackay looking up at the captain; "he is
starving. See, one of you, if the cook's got anything ready in his
galley."
"Begorra, it wor pay-soup day to-day," cried Tim Rooney getting up to
obey the order; "an' Ching Wang bulled it so plentiful wid wather that
the men toorned oop their noses at it, an' most of it wor lift in the
coppers."
"The very thing for one in this poor chap's condition," replied Mr
Mackay eagerly. "Go and bring a pannikin of it at once."
Captain Gillespie sniffed and snorted more than ever of being baulked
for the present in his amiable intention of giving the stowaway a bit of
his mind, and, possibly, something else in addition.
He saw, though, that his unwelcome passenger was too far gone to be
spoken to as yet; and so, perforce, he had to delay calling him to
account for his intrusion, putting the reckoning off until a more
convenient season.
"Ah, well, Mackay," said he, on Tim Rooney's return presently with a
pannikin of pea-soup and a large iron spoon, with which he proceeded to
ladle some into the starving creature's mouth, which was ravenously
opened, as were his eyes, too, distended with eager famine craving as he
smelt the food--"you see to bringing the beggar round as well as you
can, and I'll talk to him bye and bye."
So saying, Captain Gillespie returned to his former place on the poop,
and contented himself for the moment with rating the helmsman for
letting the ship yaw on a big wave catching her athwart the bows and
making her fall off; while the first mate and Tim Rooney continued their
good Samaritan work in gently plying the poor creature, who had just
been rescued from death's door, with spoonful after spoonful of the
tepid soup. Presently a little colour came into his face and he was
able to speak, recovering his consciousness completely as soon as the
nourishment affected his system and gave him strength.
In a little time, he also was able to raise himself up and stand without
assistance; and, then, Mr Mackay asked him who he was and why he came
on board our ship without leave or license.
He said that he was a country bricklayer, Joe Fergusson by name; and
that, not being able to get work in London, whither he had tramped all
the way from Lancashire, he had determined to go to Australia, hearing
there was a great demand for labour out there. By dint of inquiries he
had at length managed to reach the docks, hiding himself away in the
forepeak of the Silver Queen, she being the first ship he was able to
get on board unperceived, and the hatchway being conveniently open as if
on purpose for his accommodation.
"But, we're not going to Australia," observed Mr Mackay, who had only
contrived to get all this from the enterprising bricklayer by the aid of
a series of questions and a severe cross-examination. "This ship is
bound for China."
"It don't matter, measter," replied Mr Joe Fergusson with the most
charming nonchalance. "Australy or Chiney's all the same to Oi, so long
as un can git wa-ark to dew. Aught's better nor clemming in Lonnon!"
"You've got no right aboard here, though," said Mr Mackay, who could
not help smiling at the easy way in which the whilom dying man now took
things. "Who's going to pay your passage-money? The captain's in a
fine state, I can tell you, about it, and I don't know what he won't do
to you. He might order you to be pitched overboard into the sea,
perhaps."
The other scratched his head reflectively, just as Tim Rooney did when
in a quandary, looking round at the men behind Mr Mackay, who were
grinning at his blank dismay and the perturbed and puzzled expression on
his raw yokel face.
"Oi be willin' to wa-ark, measter," he answered at length, thinking that
if they were all grinning, they were not likely to do him much harm.
"Oi'll wa-ark, measter, loike a good un, so long as you gie Oi grub and
let Oi be."
"Work! What can you, a bricklayer according to your own statement, do
aboard ship? We've got no bricks to lay here."
"Mab'be, measter, you moight try un, though," pleaded the poor fellow,
scratching his head again; and then adding, as if a brilliant thought
all at once occurred to him from the operation, "Oi be used to
scaffoldin' and can cloimb loike sailor cheaps."
"Ah, you must speak to the captain about that," replied Mr Mackay
drily, turning aft and giving some whispered instructions to Tim Rooney
to let the stowaway have some more food later on and give him a shake-
down in the forecastle for the night, so that he might be in better
fettle for his audience with Captain Gillespie on the morrow. "You can
stop here with the men till the morning, and then you will know what
will be done in the matter."
"Well," cried Captain Gillespie as soon as Mr Mackay stepped up the
poop ladder, "how's that rascal getting on?"
"I think he'll come round now, sir," said the first mate, thinking it
best not to mention how quickly his patient had recovered, so that he
might have a few hours' reprieve before encountering the captain's
wrath. "I've told the boatswain to give him a bunk in the fo'c's'le for
the night, and that you'll talk to him in the morning."
"Oh, aye, I'll talk to him like a Dutch uncle," retorted the captain,
sniffing away at a fine rate, as if Mr Mackay was as much in fault as
the unfortunate cause of his ire. "You know I never encourage stowaways
on board my ship, sir; and when I say a thing I mean a thing."
"Yes, sir; certainly, sir," said Mr Mackay soothingly, taking no notice
of his manner to him and judiciously turning the conversation. "Do you
think, though, sir, we can carry those topgallants much longer? The
wind seems to have freshened again after sunset, the same as it did last
night."
"Carry-on? Aye, of course we can. The old barquey could almost stand
the royals as well, with this breeze well abeam," replied "Old Jock,"
who never agreed with anyone right out if he could possibly help,
especially now when he was in a bit of temper about the stowaway; but,
the next instant, like the thorough seaman he was, seeing the wisdom of
the first mate's advice, he qualified what he had previously said. "If
it freshens more, though, between this and eight bells, you can take in
the topgallants if you like, and a reef in the topsails as well. It
will save bother, perhaps, bye and bye, as the night will be a darkish
one and the weather is not too trustworthy."
Captain Gillespie then went down the companion into the cuddy to have
his tea; and Mr Mackay, thinking I ought to be hungry after all my
sacrifices to Neptune, advised me to go down below and get some too.
I was hungry, but I did not care about tea, the flavour of the pea-soup
the stowaway had been plied with having roused my appetite; so,
receiving Mr Mackay's permission, instead of seeking out the steward
Pedro, I paid a visit to Ching Wang in his galley forward.
"Hi, lilly pijjin," cried this worthy, receiving me far more pleasantly
than I'm sure the Portuguese would have done, for as I passed under the
break of the poop I heard the latter clattering his tins about in the
pantry, as if he were in a rage at something. "What you wanchee--hey?"
I soon explained my wants; and, without the slightest demur, he ladled
out a basinful of soup for me out of one of the coppers gently stewing
over the galley fire, which looked quite bright and nice as the evening
was chilly. The good-natured Chinaman also gave me a couple of hard
ship's biscuits which he took out of a drawer in the locker above the
fireplace, where they were kept dry.
"Hi, you eatee um chop chop," said he, as he handed me the basin and the
biscuits and made me sit down on a sort of settle in the galley opposite
the warm fire--"makee tummee tummee all right."
The effects of this food were as wonderful in my instance as in that of
the poor starved bricklayer shortly before; for, when I had eaten the
last biscuit crumb and drained the final drop of pea-soup from the
basin, I felt a new man, or rather boy--Allan Graham himself, and not
the wretched feeble nonentity I had been previously.
Of course, I thanked Ching Wang for his kindness as I rose up from the
settle to go away, on the starboard watch, who were just relieved from
their duty on deck, coming for their tea; but the Chinee only shook his
head with a broad smile on his yellow face, as if deprecating any return
for his kind offices.
"You goodee pijjin and chin chin when you comee," he only said, "and
when you wanchee chow-chow, you comee Ching Wang and him gettee you chop
chop!"
Then, I stopped in front of the forecastle, as Tim Rooney giving me a
cheery hail, and saw to my wonder Joe Fergusson looking all hale and
hearty and jolly amongst the men, without the least trace of having
been, apparently, at his last gasp but an hour or so before.
He was half lying down, half sitting on the edge of one of the bunks,
nursing the big stray tortoise-shell tom-cat which had shared his
lodgings in the forepeak, and he had mistaken it for a rat as it crept
up and down the chain-pipe to see what it could pick up in the cook's
galley at meal-times, which it seemed to know by some peculiar instinct
of its own; and although thus partially partial to Ching Wang's society,
the cat now appeared to have taken even a greater fancy to his bed-
fellow in his hiding-place below than it had done to the cook, looking
upon the stowaway evidently as a fellow-comrade, who was unfortunately
in similar circumstances to himself.
Joe Fergusson not only looked all right, but he likewise was in the best
of spirits, possibly from the tot of rum Tim Rooney had given him after
his soup, to "pull him together," as the boatswain said; for, ere I left
the precincts of the forecastle he volunteered to sing a song, and as I
made my way aft I heard the beginning of some plaintive ditty concerning
a "may-i-den of Manches-teer," followed by a rousing chorus from the
crew, which had little or nothing to do with the main burden of the
ballad, the men's refrain being only a "Yo, heave ho, it's time for us
to go!"
A hint which I took.
The wind did not freshen quite so soon as either Mr Mackay or the
captain expected; but it continued to blow pretty steadily from the
north-west with considerable force, the ship bending over to it as it
caught her abaft the beam, and bowling along before it over the billowy
ocean like a prancing courser galloping over a race-course, tossing her
bows up in the air one moment and plunging them down the next, and
spinning along at a rare rate through the crested foam.
As it got later, though, the gale increased; and shortly after "two
bells in the first watch," nine o'clock that is in landsman's time,
Captain Gillespie, who was on deck again, gave the order to shorten
sail.
"Stand by your topgallant halliards!" cried Mr Mackay, giving the
necessary instructions for the captain's order to be carried into
effect, following this command up immediately by a second--"Let go!"
Then, the clewlines and buntlines were manned, and in a trice the three
topgallants were hanging in festooned folds from the upper yards, I
doing my first bit of service at sea by laying hold of the ropes that
triced up the mizzen-topgallant-sail, and hauling with the others, Mr
Mackay giving me a cheery "Well done, my lad," as I did so.
Tom Jerrold, who now appeared on the poop, and whom I had fought shy of
before, thinking he had behaved very unkindly to me in the morning, was
one of the first to spring into the mizzen-shrouds and climb up the
ratlines on the order being given to furl the sail, getting out on the
manrope and to the weather earing at the end of the yard before either
of the three hands who also went up.
Seeing him go up the rigging, I was on the point of following him; but
Mr Mackay, whose previous encouragement, indeed, had spurred me on,
stopped me.
"No, my boy," said he kindly, "you must not go aloft yet, for you might
fall overboard. Besides, you would not be of the slightest use on the
yard even if you didn't tumble. Wait till you've got your sea-legs and
know the ropes."
I had therefore to wait and watch Tom Jerrold swinging away up there and
bundling the sail together, the gaskets being presently passed round it
and the mizzen-topgallant made snug. When Tom and the others came down,
he grinned at me so cordially that I made friends with him again; but I
was longing all the time for the blissful moment when I too could go
aloft like him.
Previously to this, I had given Billy, the ship's boy, a shilling to
swab out our cabin and make it all right, so that neither Tom nor Weeks
could grumble at the state it was in; and Sam Weeks, at all events,
seemed satisfied, for he turned into his bunk as soon as Billy had done
cleaning up, having begged Tom Jerrold to take his place for once with
the starboard men, who had the first watch this evening instead of the
"middle watch," as on the previous night. This shifting of the watches,
I may mention here, gives all hands in turn an opportunity of being on
deck at every hour of the night and day, without being monotonously
bound down to any fixed time to be on duty throughout the voyage, as
would otherwise have been the case.
This alternation of the four hours of deck duty is effected by the dog-
watches in the afternoon, which being of only two hours duration each,
from four o'clock till six the first, and the second from six to eight
o'clock, change the whole order of the others; as, for instance, the
port watch, which has the deck for the first dog-watch to-night, say,
will come on again for the first night watch from eight o'clock till
twelve, and the morning watch from four o'clock until eight, the
starboard watch, which goes on duty for the second dog-watch, taking the
middle watch, from midnight till four o'clock, and then going below to
sleep, while the port watch takes the morning one. The arrangement for
the following night is exactly the reverse of this, the starbowlines
starting with, the first dog-watch and taking the first and the evening
watch; while the port watch has only the second dog-watch and the middle
one, from midnight till morning.
I thought I had better explain this, as it was very strange at first to
me, and I could not get out of the habit of believing sometimes that I
ought to be on deck when it was really my turn to have my "watch in"
below.
This evening, as I felt all right and hearty after my pea-soup and had a
good sleep in the afternoon, I remained on deck, although the port
watch, to which I belonged, was not on duty, Mr Mackay, who had only
stayed on the poop to see the topgallants taken in, having at once gone
below on this operation being satisfactorily performed.
I was glad I stopped, though; for, presently, Captain Gillespie,
ignoring Mr Saunders the second mate, who was now supposed to be in
charge of the deck, sang out in his voice of thunder, his nose no doubt
shaking terribly the while, albeit I couldn't see it, the evening being
too dark and lowering for me even to distinguish plainly that long
proboscis of his:
"Hands reef topsails!"
The men, naturally, were even more spry than usual from the fact of "Old
Jock" having given the order; so, they were at their posts before the
captain could get at his next command.
"Stand by your topsail halliards--let go!"
The yards tumbled down on the caps in an instant as the last word came
roaring from Captain Gillespie's lips; and at almost the same moment
parties of the men raced up the fore and main and mizzen-shrouds, each
lot anxious to have their sail reefed and rehoisted the first.
The foretop men, however, this time, bore away the palm over those
attending to the main-topsail; while those on the cro'jack-yard were
completely out of the running with only four hands against the fourteen
in the other top--although Tom Jerrold was pretty quick again, and if
those helping him had been but equally sharp they might, in spite of
being short-handed, have achieved the victory.
Urged on by Tim Rooney, though, the men forward were too smart for those
aft, and had handed their topsail and were hoisting away at the
halliards again before those reefing the main-topsail were all in from
their yard. The last man, indeed, was just stepping from the yard into
the rigging again, when an accident happened that nearly cost him his
life, although fortunately he escaped with only a fall and a fright.
In order to render the work of reefing easier for the hands, the captain
had directed the men at the wheel by a quick motion which they
understood to "luff her up" a bit, so as to flatten the sails; and now,
on the folds of the main-topsail ballooning out before being hoisted
again as it caught the wind, the sail flapped back and jerked the
unfortunate fellow off the yard, his hands clutching vainly at the empty
air.
We could see it all from the poop, although the night was darkish,
because the whiteness of the sails made everything stand out in relief
against their snowy background; and, as he fell, with a shriek that
seemed to go through my heart, I held my breath in agonised suspense,
expecting the next moment to hear the dull thud of his mangled body on
the deck below.
But, in place of this, a second later, a wild hurrah burst from the men
at the halliards and from those coming down the rigging, who had
remained spellbound, their descending footsteps arrested in the ratlines
in awful expectancy and horror. It was a cheer of relief on their
anxious fears being dispelled.
I never heard such a hearty shout in my life before, coming, as it did,
as if all the men had but one throat!