"Bedad, sorr, it sames I'm dhramin', sure," observed Tim Rooney to Mr
Mackay as the two now stood together on the forecastle, looking out over
the hows. "It's moighty loike the ould river; an' I'd a'most fancy I
wor home ag'in, an' not in Chainee at all at all!"
"You're not far wrong, bosun," replied Mr Mackay, smiling at his
remark, or rather at the quaint way in which it was made. "I can fancy
the same thing myself, the appearance of the Yang-tse-kiang hereabouts
being strangely like that of the Thames just below Greenhithe."
I, overhearing their conversation, thought the same too; for, although,
of course, there was no dome of Saint Paul's in the distance, nor
forests of masts, nor crowds of steamers passing to and fro, nor all
that bustle of business and din and dense black smoke from those
innumerable funnels that distinguishes the waterway which forms the
great heart artery of London, still there were many points of
resemblance between the two--the show of shipping opposite Shanghai,
where we lay, being almost as fair as that which is to be seen sometimes
at the mouth of the Thames on a fine day, when it blows from the south
and there are many wind-bound craft waiting to get down Channel.
The sampans and other native boats, darting about hither and thither in
shoals, somewhat made up for the absence of the panting tugs and paddle
steamers plying on the former stream, albeit there was no deficiency
here either of Fulton's invention, steamers running regularly a distance
of more than seven hundred miles up the Yang-tse-kiang; and, as for
houses and the signs of a numerous population, there were plenty of
these, although different to the bricks and mortar structures of our
more accustomed eyes in England, with the peaks of pagodas doing duty
for church spires, while the paddy fields planted with rice on either
hand offered a very good imitation of the low-lying banks of our great
mother river along the Essex shore.
"Aye, it's the very image, an' as loike as two pays," reiterated Tim
Rooney on my joining the two. "Don't ye think so, too, Misther Gray-
ham?"
"I wish you would leave the `ham' out of my name!" I replied laughing,
but a bit vexed all the same. "I think you might by this time, it's
getting quite a stale joke."
"Faix, I dunno what ye manes, sorr," he replied, pretending to be
puzzled, but the wink in his eye showing clearly that this density of
his mental powers on the point was only assumed. "Sure, an' I can't
hilp me brogue, ye know, if ye manes that?"
"Nobody says you can," said I rather shortly; for one or two of the
hands by the windlass bitts were grinning, as well as Sam Weeks who was
standing by, too, and I did not like being made fun of before them. "No
one could mistake you for anything else but a Paddy all the world over!"
"Begorra, an' I'm proud av that very same, Misther Gray-ham," he
retorted, not one whit put out by my words, as I imagined he would be.
"If other folks had as little to be ashamed av, it's a blissid worrld
sure this'd be, an' we'd be all havin' our wings sproutin' an' sailin'
aloft, loike the swate little cheroob, they says, looks arter poor
Jack!"
A general laugh followed this; and the captain just then coming out of
his cabin, where he had been busy getting all his papers and bills of
lading together, and ordering the jolly-boat to be lowered to pull him
ashore, Tim turned away to see to the job--so, he had the best of me in
our little skirmish, albeit we were nevertheless good friends
afterwards.
In the afternoon, Captain Gillespie came off to the ship again, with a
gang of coolies under a native comprador. These were sent by the
consignees to help discharge the cargo into a lot of small junks that
they brought alongside; but the Chinamen made a poor show, contrasting
their work with that of our stalwart able-bodied tars, one of whom
thought nothing of handling a big crate as it was hoisted out of the
hold which it took ten of the others merely to look at.
Fortunately, only a few boxes of the Manchester stuffs that were stowed
in our fore compartment were found damaged by the sea, the rest of the
goods being in good condition, and the cargo generally as sound as when
it came on board in the docks; a result which afforded "Old Jock" much
satisfaction, as he had feared the worst. The only loss, therefore, the
owners would have to suffer would be the small amount of our freight
that had been jettisoned when the ship first went ashore on the Pratas,
the cargo that had subsequently been taken out to lighten her before
getting her off the shoal having been carefully preserved.
"`All's well that ends well,'" cried he, rubbing his hands and sniffing
and snorting, when the people ashore reported this after a systematic
examination of all the bales and stuff. "I told ye so, Mackay, I told
ye so; and when I say a thing, ye know, I mean a thing."
"I'm sure, I'm only too glad everything has turned out right," replied
the first mate, smiling to himself, though, at "Jock's" assertion of
having prognosticated this favourable issue, the contrary being the
case; for, he'd been grumbling all the way from Hongkong about the
salvage to be paid, and compensation to the consignees for deterioration
of the cargo, besides perhaps demurrage for late delivery, the ship
arriving at Shanghai more than a month beyond her time. "`All's well
that ends well,' as you say, sir; and I only hope we'll soon have a
freight back which will recoup any loss the owners may have suffered
from the mishaps of our voyage out."
But, hoping for a thing, and having it, are two very different things.
It was the middle of July when we finally reached Shanghai, and it took
us, with the slow way of going to work of the Chinese coolies and their
comprador and the people ashore and all, a good three weeks to unload
our cargo; so that, by the time we had the hold swept out and got ready
below for the reception of a freight of tea promised the captain, lo and
behold we found we were too late, for the consignment intended for us
was now well on its way home in another vessel. This latter, however,
we were told in excuse for our disappointment, had been waiting longer
for a cargo than us, having been lying in the river since May, and only
starting off as we commenced discharging.
We were cheered up, though, by the hope of having a cargo of the second
season tea, which the shore folk said was expected in the town from up
country shortly; which "shortly" proved to be of the most elastic
properties, it being September before we received authoritative
information of our expected freight being at last at Shanghai and ready
for shipment.
When it came, though, we did not lose much time in getting it on board
and stowed, even Tom Jerrold and I working under hatches.
"Begorra, we'll show them poor craythurs," cried Tim Rooney, bracing
himself up for the task and baring his sinewy arms with much gusto as he
buckled to the job, setting the hands a worthy example to follow. "Aye,
we'll jist show them what we calls worruk in our counthry, me darlints.
Won't we, boys?"
"Aye, aye," roared out the men, all anxious to set sail and see Old
England again; sailors being generally the most restless mortals under
the sun, and never satisfied at being long in one place. "Aye, aye, bo,
we will!"
And they did, too, "Old Jock" rubbing his hands and snorting and
sniffing in fine glee as the tea-chests were rattled up out of the junks
alongside and lowered into the hold, where they underwent even a greater
amount of squeezing and jamming together than our original cargo out,
the process of compression being helped on by the aid of the jack-screws
and the port watch under Mr Mackay--who now superintended the stowage
of the cargo, in place of poor Mr Saunders. No one, apparently, save
the faithful Tim Rooney, gave a thought to the latter, now resting in
his quiet tomb in Happy Valley!
"Bedad, we miss our ould sickond mate, sorr," I heard him say to Mr
Mackay, who was a little strange to the job, having had nothing to do in
the stowing line for some time, his duties as first mate being more
connected with the navigation of the ship. "He wor a powerful man to
ate, sure; but he knew his way about the howld av a vissil, sorr, that
same."
"That means, I suppose, bosun," replied Mr Mackay laughing and coughing
as the tea-dust caught his breath, "that I don't--eh?"
"Be jabers, no, sorr," protested Tim; "I niver maned to say that, sorr,
aven if I thought it. But poor ould Misther Saunders samed, sorr, to
take koindly to this sort av worruk, betther nor navigatin'; which he
weren't a patch on alongside av you, sorr, as ivery hand aboard knows."
"Get out with your blarney," said Mr Mackay good-humouredly, urging the
crew on to fresh exertions by way of changing the topic. "If we stop
jawing here long we'll never sail from Shanghai before next year. Put
your hearts in it, men, and let us get all stowed and be done with it."
"Look aloive," yelled the boatswain, following suit; "an' hurry up wid
thim chistesses--one'd think ye wor goin' to make the job last a month
av Sundays, sore!"
They "hurried up" with a vengeance; so that, before the week was out,
the tea was all stowed and the hatches battened down, with the ship
quite ready to sail as soon as Captain Gillespie got all his permits and
papers from the shore--of which latter, by the way, I may confess, Tom
Jerrold and I got tired at last.
I had received no less than three letters from home, all in a batch,
when we got to Shanghai, one also coming after we arrived, telling me
about father and them all; and it seemed, as I read of their doings at
the vicarage and what went on at Westham, as if it had been years since
I left England, instead of only six months or so passing by; the change
of life and all that had happened making me feel ever so much older.
However, reading these dear home letters made me long all the more to
get back and see them again; and, in anticipation of this, you may be
certain I did not forget to make a good collection of nice things for
mother and my sister Nellie, as well as some "curios" for father, such
as he had promised in my name when the letter came which made my mother
grieve so, telling that all the arrangements had been completed for my
going to sea,--do you recollect?
Yes; and besides the curios I myself bought ashore, I had one given me,
at the very last moment before we left the Yang-tse-kiang, by Ching
Wang, who, much to the surprise of all, said he wasn't going back in the
Silver Queen--not, at all events, this voyage, he made the captain
understand, being desirous of remaining at Shanghai until the next year.
"Me likee lilly gal, she likee me," he explained with his bland vacuous
smile and his little beady eyes twinkling. "Me wifoo get chop chop.
Two men not stop one placee--no go ship and 'top shore too."
"You rascal!" shouted "Old Jock" in a rage, "you served me just the same
trick the voyage before last. You'd better come with us now, for I'm
hanged if I give you the chance again."
"No, cap'en," grinned the imperturbable Chinaman, "no can do."
So, amidst the chaff of the men, who asserted that Ching Wang must have
about fifty wives by this time at various ports, considering the number
of times he had contracted matrimonial engagements, he went over the
side into a sampan he had waiting for him, smiling blandly to the last,
and giving me as a parting present the little brass figure of Buddha
which he worshipped as his deity. This was a sure token of the strong
affection he entertained for me, his "lilly pijjin," as he always called
me from the time that Tim Rooney had commended me to his good graces.
"He'll come back with us next trip," said Mr Mackay, as he with all of
us gave Ching Wang a parting "chin chin" on the celestial cook being
presently rowed ashore in great state, sitting in the stern-sheets of
his sampan and beaming on us with his bland smile as long as his round
face could be distinguished, dwindling away in the distance till it
finally disappeared. "I'm sorry to lose him, though, sir, for he was a
capital cook, besides being a plucky fellow. Recollect how he helped to
save all our lives the other day, as well as the ship and cargo."
"Humph!" grunted "Old Jock," who appeared to have forgotten this. "He's
served us a shabby trick now, by going off like that at the last moment,
and I've half a mind not to have any truck with him again."
"Ha, ha, cap'en," laughed Mr Mackay, "you said so last time, don't you
remember? Yet, you brought him aboard again with the other hands before
we started from Gravesend this trip. You're too good-natured to bear in
mind all the hard things you say sometimes."
"Perhaps I am, Mackay, perhaps I am," sniggered and snorted "Old Jock,"
thinking this a high compliment. "Though, when I say a thing, I mean a
thing, you know."
Ching Wang, when he got ashore, did not forget his old friends and leave
us altogether in the lurch; for he sent off a black cook, a native of
Jamaica, one Tippoo by name, to take his place; and as a messenger from
the brokers on shore came off at the same time with the ship's papers,
nothing now delayed our departure from Shanghai.
Then was heard Tim Rooney's piercing whistle once more on board, and the
welcome--thrice welcome cry:
"All ha-a-nds make sail!"
The topsails were soon loosed by one watch, while the other hove up the
anchor in fine style to the chorus of "Down in the lowlands, oh!"
"Up and down!" cried Matthews on the forecastle, taking poor Saunders'
place here, for he was now doing duty as second mate, although he had
not yet passed the Trinity House examination for the post. "Anchor's up
and down, sir!"
"Then heave and paul!" answered Mr Mackay from the poop, calling out at
the same time to the men standing by the halliards: "Sheet home and
hoist away!"
In another minute, the topsails were dropped and the yards hoisted, the
jib run up and the spanker set; when, as our anchor cleared the ground,
soon peeping over our bows and being catted and fished in the old
fashion, the Silver Queen's canvas filled and she bade adieu to China
with a graceful curtsy, making her way down the Yang-tse-kiang at a rate
that showed she was as glad as those on board her to lose sight of its
yellow waters at last!
It was the 14th September when we sailed; and, although it was rather
early in the year for it, the nor'-east monsoon had already begun to
blow, fine and dry and cold, bowling us down through the Formosa Channel
and into the China Sea beyond, "as if ould Nick war arter us," as Tim
Rooney said.
In our progress past the same latitudes in which we had previously
encountered such perils, we now met with nothing of interest; steering
south by the Strait of Gaspar--to the other side of the island of Banca,
instead of by our former route when coming up--we navigated Sunda the
same day, getting out into the Indian Ocean at the beginning of October.
Shaping a course from here to pass about a hundred miles to the
southward of Madagascar, our nor'-east wind changing to a nor'-westward
in 15 degrees south latitude, which was all the more favourable for us,
we were able to fetch the Cape of Good Hope in forty-three days from our
start. Our passage round the stormy headland was now comparatively
easy, being aided by the strong current that comes down the African
coast through the Mozambique, and so did not cost us any bother at all,
as we had fine weather all the time until we turned into the Atlantic.
From the Cape to the Channel we made a splendid passage, sighting the
Lizard on the 20th December and getting into dock on the afternoon of
the 22nd of the month. Strange to say, too, we were towed up from the
Downs by our old friend the Arrow, just as we were towed down the river
at starting on our eventful voyage.
Captain Gillespie gave me leave to go home the next day, telling me he
would write when the ship would be ready again for another trip early in
the following year; and so, bidding my mess-mates a cordial farewell, I
was soon in a train on my way to Westham once more, with "Dick" the
starling in a bran new wicker cage I had bought for him at Shanghai, as
well as my sea-chest packed full of presents for the home-folk and
everybody.
It was late in the afternoon of Christmas-eve when I reached the old
well-known little station, which seemed to look ever so much smaller
than when I left; and the very first person I saw whom I knew--none of
my people coming to meet me, as they did not know when I would arrive,
not expecting me indeed until the next morning--was Lawyer Sharpe, as
ferrety-looking as ever!
He gave me a hearty greeting, however, saying he was glad to see me back
again, and to have "ocular demonstration," as he expressed it, that I
had not been lost at sea as was reported; so, I recalled what father had
said when I had turned up my nose at the legal profession, and thought
Mr Sharpe no doubt was misjudged by a good many, and might not be
altogether such a tricky customer as the Westham folks made out.
Leaving my traps at the station to be sent on by a porter, only taking
Dick's cage with me, I was soon trotting along through the village,
passing old Doctor Jollop on my way. He, too, was the very same as
ever, without the slightest alteration, muddy boots and all; for,
although there was a little sprinkling of snow on the ground, as
befitted the season, it had thawed in the streets of Westham, and as a
matter of course the doctor, who always appeared to choose the very
muddiest of places to tramp in, had managed to collect as much of the
mire as he could on his boots and legs.
But, mud or no mud, he was a jolly kind old fellow, and more really
pleased again to see me than--even with the most charitable feelings I
must say it--Lawyer Sharpe pretended to be.
"Just back in time, Allan, for the plum-pudding," he called out on
seeing me. "Eh, my boy, eh?"
"Yes, sir," said I, laughing as I shook hands with him. "Just in time
for it."
"And the pills, too," he added, chuckling as he went into a cottage
close by. "And the pills, too; you mustn't forget them."
Nasty old fellow, as if I wished to be reminded of anything so
disagreeable at such a moment!
The next instant, however, I was at the vicarage gate, when Nellie, who
was on the watch, although as I've said I was not expected till next
day, flew out of the porch and had her arms round my neck, with my
mother after her and father and my brother Tom, too--the latter bringing
up the rear, his dignity not allowing him to hurry himself too much; and
what with meeting and greeting these all thoughts of Doctor Jollop and
his pills and everything else were banished from my mind--everything,
save the delicious feeling of being at home again.
"And what have you here, Allan?" inquired sister Nellie when all the
kissing and hugging was over, and I'd asked and answered at least a
thousand questions. "A bird?"
"Yes, a starling," said I, introducing Dick and telling them his history
as we all went back into the house, keeping this a surprise and not
mentioning about the little beggar in my letter from Shanghai. "I've
brought him home for you, Nellie."
"Oh, thank you, Allan," she cried, hugging me again. "What a dear
little fellow!"
"Ah, wait till you hear him talk," said I, speaking to Dick and giving
him my old whistle, "Dick, Dick!"
"Hullo!" cracked the starling, so comically, in Tim Rooney's voice that
they all burst out laughing, "here's a jolly row!"
Dick then whistled a couple of bars, which was all he could accomplish,
of "Tom Bowling," after which he ejaculated his favourite expression,
"Bad cess to ye!" in such a faithful imitation of my friend the
boatswain's manner that father smiled with the rest; although he said
drily, "Your bird, Nellie, I hope will learn better language when he has
been amongst us a bit longer!"
My chest arriving presently from the station, I had the happiness of
showing them all that I had forgotten none when away; for I had got a
Mandarin hat for Tom, and two old china jars I had brought for mother
delighting her heart, while Ching Wang's idol which I gave father
especially pleased him. He became, too, I may add, all the more deeply
interested in this little idol when I told him all the circumstances
connected with it, and the impression the Chinaman's devotion to his god
had made on me.
I have little further to say, having now given a full, true, and
faithful account of my first voyage; although I might point out to you
that I was no longer a "green" apprentice, but now able to "reef, hand,
and steer," as "Old Jock," or rather Captain Gillespie to speak more
respectfully of him, said when I was leaving the ship, expressing the
hope of having me with him on his next trip out, as I "had the makings
of a sailor" in me, and was "beginning to be worth my salt."
I had told father, though, so much about Tim Rooney, recounting all his
kindness to me on board the Silver Queen from almost the first moment I
saw him--almost, but not quite, the commencement of our first interview
having been rather alarming to me--that nothing would suit him but my
friend Tim's coming down to Westham for a short visit, if only for a
day.
Of course, I wrote to him, inclosing a letter father sent inviting him,
and Tim came next day prompt as usual in his sailor fashion, winning all
the hearts at the vicarage before he had been an hour in the place.
Father naturally thanked him for all that he had done for me, which made
the bashful boatswain blush, while he deprecated all mention of his care
of me.
"Bedad, sorr," said he to father in his raciest brogue, and with that
suspicion of mirth which seemed always to hover about his left eye, "it
wor quite a plisure, sure, to sarve him; for he's the foorst lad I iver
came across as took so koindly to the thrade. 'Dade an' sure, sorr, I
belaive he don't think none the worse av it now, by the same token; an'
would give the same anser, sorr, to what I've axed him more nor once
since he foorst came aboord us. Faix, I'll ax him now, your riverince.
Ain't ye sorry, Misther Gray-ham, as how ye iver wint to say, now?"
"No, not a bit of it," replied I sturdily, in the same way as I had
always done to his stereotyped inquiry. "And I'll go again cheerfully
as soon as the Silver Queen is ready again for her next voyage."
"There ye are, sorr!" cried Tim admiringly. "He's a raal broth av a boy
entoirely. Sure, he'll be a man afore his mother yit, sorr!"