_The Gentile arrives at Matanzas._
I was waked in the morning by Mr. Stewart, who shook me by the
shoulders, crying, "Come, Frank, turn out; it's seven bells, so rouse
and bite; breakfast is almost ready, and a glorious prospect from
deck."
I turned out incontinently at this summons, slipped on my trowsers,
ran up the companion-way, dipped my head in a bucket of water, by way
of performing my morning ablutions, and then made my way aft again to
join the circle on the quarter-deck. The watch had just finished
washing down the decks, and were engaged in laying up the rigging on
the belaying-pins; the boys were stowing away the detested holy-stone
under the chocks of the long-boat; the watch below were performing
their brief morning ablutions upon the forecastle; the steward was
bringing aft the cabin breakfast, sadly incommoded by the mischievous
Rover, who, wet as a sponge, capered about the deck, shaking himself
against everybody who came in his way, and now seemed fully determined
to dive between the lower spars of the unfortunate darkey; the
officers were standing by my side, breathing the cool morning air,
looking out upon the beautiful scene around us, and getting an
appetite for breakfast.
The ship lay about a league from the land, almost abreast the entrance
of Matanzas bay; the land wind blew gently, bearing to us the
delicious perfumes of orange and coffee-blossoms, and crowds of
vessels were coming from the bay, taking advantage of it to gain an
offing before the setting in of the sea-breeze. Half a mile from us a
brig lay motionless upon the water, her yards swarming with men
loosing the sails, which in a moment fell together with a precision
that would have plainly told a sailor that the brig was a man-of-war,
even without taking notice of the delicate white ribbon painted upon
her side, pierced by a half-dozen ports, from which protruded as many
saucy-looking guns, their red tompions contrasting prettily with the
aforesaid white line and the black sides of the vessel. A flag hung
negligently down from her gaff end, and, as a puff of wind stronger
than the rest blew out its crimson folds, we saw emblazoned thereon
the cross of St. George and merry England. The brig was the British
cruiser on this station. To the northward stretched the broad blue
expanse of the sea we had so recently sailed on, looking to be as
quiet and peaceful as if there were no such things as hurricanes and
angry waves, and dotted here and there by the glistening sails of
inward bound vessels. Far away to the westward a long black wreath of
smoke, following in the wake of a small speck on the water, announced
the approach of the Havana steam packet; and close in, hugging the
shore, glided a solitary American barque, apparently bound to Havana
to finish her freight, her white sails gleaming in the sun. The land
seemed strangely beautiful to our sea-going eyes; and we were never
tired with gazing at the tall, graceful palms, sheltering with their
grateful shade white villas, situate in the midst of fertile fields of
sugar-cane, and surrounded by little hamlets of white-washed slave
huts. The overhanging haze of the distant city could be seen rising
beyond the intervening hills, and the back-ground of the picture was
formed by a range of blue conical peaks, amidst which towered in
majesty the flat summit of the celebrated Pan of Matanzas.
"And I am once more in the West Indies!" murmured Mr. Stewart, half
unconsciously. "How much has happened since my eyes first looked upon
this landscape!"
"True enough!" added Pedro, sighing.
"Breakfas' gettin' cold, Cap'n Smiff," cried the steward, petulently,
poking his head up the companion.
"Ay, ay," returned the skipper; "come, gentlemen, don't get into the
dumps this fine morning; you ought to be rejoiced that you have found
each other. Let's go below and take breakfast, and after that, Don
Pedro, we must stow you in the run until after the officers have
boarded us."
Breakfast being dispatched, all hands went busily to work preparing
the ship for port. Our bends had been blacked in the two days of fair
weather we had had off the Bahamas; and as our ship was a large,
handsome, packet-built craft of seven hundred tons, we reckoned upon
cutting a great swell among the brigs, barques, and small ships
usually engaged in the sugar-freighting business. The brass of the
capstan, wheel and ladder stanchions, were brightly polished by the
steward and boys; fair leaders, Scotchmen and chaffing-gear taken off;
ensign, signal and burgee-halyards rove; the accommodationladder got
over the side; the anchor got ready, and the chain roused up from the
locker. At ten o'clock we took the sea breeze and a pilot, passed
Point Yerikos, and cracked gallantly up the bay with ensign, numbers,
and private signal flying. Another point was turned, and the beautiful
city came in view at the distance of a league, more than half the
intervening space of water covered by ships of every nation, size, and
rig, lying at anchor, from the huge British line-of-battle ship down
to the graceful native felucca with latteen sails.
"Pilot," said Captain Smith, "if you will give us a first-rate berth,
as near to the town as a ship of our size can load, I'll give you five
dollars beside your fee."
"You shall have de ver fine berth, senor el capitaine. I will anchor
you under de castle yonder; ver deep water, tree, four fathoms, and
only one mile and more from the end of the mole."
The skipper exchanged glances with his mate.
"Their old berth," whispered Langley, sticking his elbow into my side.
We rapidly approached the castle, and the busy fleet at its foot; sail
after sail was clewed up--the pilot's orders grew frequent and
loud--the jib came fluttering down the stay--the anchor plunged into
the water--the chain rattled swiftly through the hawsehole--we swung
round with the tide, broadside to the fort, and "The voyage of the
ship Gentile, Captain James Smith, commander, from Valetta toward
Matanzas," as inscribed in the mate's log-book, was at an end.
The pilot was dismissed--our sails furled--the royal and
topgallant-yards sent down--the lower and topsail-yards squared with
nautical and mathematical precision--our fair-weather lofty poles,
surmounted by gilt balls, sent up--awnings were spread completely over
the deck--our crack accommodation-stairs got over the side--the
swinging-boom rigged out--the boats lowered and fastened thereto--the
decks swept clean, and the rigging laid up--and, by the time the
custom-house boat boarded us, we were in complete harbor-trim,
ship-shape and Bristol fashion; and the Spanish officers complimented
the fine appearance of the vessel until the worthy skipper was greatly
pleased.
An account was given of the running down of the San Diego, and of the
miraculous escape of one of her crew, who, the skipper said, died the
next day of his bruises. A name for this unfortunate man had been
furnished by Pedro; and in our excess of caution, this was given to
the officers as the name rendered by the survivor. The officers looked
grave for a moment, but finally said that it was the act of God, and
inevitable; and that as the crew had been principally convicts, it was
not so much matter; and after drinking two or three bottles of wine,
and taking bonds of the captain for the good behavior of our darkies,
they departed.