It is well that mankind cannot pry into the secrets of futurity.
At all events, it is certain that if the crew of the _Water Wagtail_ had
known what was in store for them when they set sail from Bristol, one
fine spring morning at the beginning of the sixteenth century, most of
them would have remained at home--though it is not improbable that, even
with full knowledge of coming events, some of the romantic among them,
and a few of the reckless, might have decided to go on.
Undoubtedly Paul Burns would have scorned to draw back, for he was a
"hero of romance;" an enthusiast of the deepest dye, with an inquiring
mind, a sanguine disposition, and a fervent belief in all things great
and good and grand. He was also a six-footer in his socks, a horse in
constitution, a Hercules in frame, with a hook nose and a hawk eye and a
strong jaw--and all the rest of it. Paul had a good brain, too, and was
well educated--as education went in those days. Yes, there can be
little doubt that even though Paul Burns had been able to see into the
future, he would have deliberately chosen to go on that voyage.
So would Oliver Trench, for Oliver worshipped Paul! He loved him as if
he had been an elder brother. He admired him, afar off, as a rare
specimen of human perfection. He looked up to him, physically as well
as mentally, for Oliver was at that time little more than a boy of
medium size, but bold as a bull-dog and active as a weasel. Yes, we are
safe to say that a revelation of the disasters, dangers, sufferings,
etcetera, in store, would not have deterred Oliver Trench. He would
have gone on that voyage simply because Paul Burns went. That was
reason enough for him. The devotion of Ruth to Naomi was mild compared
with that of Oliver to Paul--if words are a test of feelings--for Ruth's
beautiful language could not compare with the forcible expressions with
which Oliver assured his friend that he would stick to him, neck or
nothing, through thick and thin, to the latest hour of life!
As for the rest of the crew--Big Swinton, Little Stubbs, George Blazer,
Squill, and the like--it was well, as we have said, that they could not
see into the future.
There were forty of them, all told, including the cook and the
cabin-boy. We do not include Paul Burns or Oliver Trench, because the
former was naturalist to the expedition--a sort of semi-scientific
freelance; and the latter, besides being the master's, or skipper's,
son, was a free-and-easy lance, so to speak, whose duties were too
numerous to mention, and too indefinite to understand. Most of the men
were what is expressed by the phrase "no better than they should be."
Some of them, indeed, were even worse than that. The wars of the period
had rendered it difficult to obtain good seamen at that particular time,
so that merchant skippers had to content themselves with whatever they
could get. The crew of the _Water Wagtail_ was unusually bad,
including, as it did, several burglars and a few pickpockets, besides
loafers and idlers; so that, before leaving Bristol, a friend of the
skipper, whose imagination was lively, styled it a crew of forty
thieves.
The coast of Norway was the destination of the _Water Wagtail_. She
never reached the coast of--but we must not anticipate. What her object
was in reference to Norway we cannot tell. Ancient records are silent
on the point.
The object of Paul Burns was to gather general information. At that
period the world was not rich in general information. To discover, to
dare, to do--if need were, to die--was the intention of our big hero.
To be similarly circumstanced in a small way was our little hero's
ambition.
"Goin' to blow," remarked Skipper Trench, on the evening of the day on
which he sailed, as he paced the deck with his hands in his pockets,
and, as his son Oliver said, his "weather-eye" open.
It seemed as though the weather, having overheard the prophecy, was
eager to fulfil it, for a squall could be seen bearing down on the ship
even while the words were being uttered.
"Close reef to-o-o-p-s'ls!" roared Master Trench, with the energy of a
man who means what he says.
We are not sure of the precise nautical terms used, but the result was a
sudden and extensive reduction of canvas; and not a moment too soon, for
the operation had scarcely been completed when the squall struck the
ship, almost capsized her, and sent her careering over the billows "like
a thing of life."
This was the first of a succession of squalls, or gales, which blew the
_Water Wagtail_ far out upon the Atlantic Ocean, stove in her bulwarks,
carried away her bowsprit and foretopmast, damaged her skylights,
strained her rudder, and cleared her decks of loose hamper.
After many days the weather moderated a little and cleared up, enabling
Master Trench to repair damages and shape his course for Norway. But
the easterly gales returned with increased violence, undid all the
repairs, carried away the compass, and compelled these ancient mariners
to run westward under bare poles--little better than a wreck for winds
and waves to play with.
In these adverse circumstances the skipper did what too many men are apt
to do in their day of sorrow--he sought comfort in the bottle.
Love of strong drink was Master Trench's weakest point. It was one of
the few points on which he and his friend Burns disagreed.
"Now, my dear man," said Paul, seating himself one evening at the cabin
table and laying his hand impressively on his friend's arm, "do let me
lock up this bottle. You can't navigate the ship, you know, when you've
got so much of that stuff under your belt."
"O yes, I can," said the skipper, with an imbecile smile, for his friend
had a winning way with him that conciliated even while he rebuked.
"Don't you fear, Paul, I--I'm all right!"
The half-offended idiotic expression of the man's face was intensely
ludicrous, but Paul could not see the ludicrous at that time. He only
saw his usually sedate, manly, generous friend reduced to a state of
imbecility.
"Come, now, Master Trench," he said persuasively, taking hold of the
case-bottle, "let me put it away."
"N-no, I won't" said the captain sharply, for he was short of temper.
The persuasive look on Paul's face suddenly vanished. He rose, grasped
the bottle firmly, went to the open hatch, and sent it whizzing up into
the air with such force that it went far over the stern of the ship and
dropped into the sea, to the unutterable amazement of the man at the
helm, who observed the bottle's unaccountable flight with an expression
of visage all his own.
There is no accounting for the rapid transitions of thought and feeling
in drunken men. The skipper sprang up, clenched his right hand, and
gazed in fierce astonishment at his friend, who advanced towards him
with a benignant smile, quite regardless of consequences. Even in the
act of striking, the captain restrained his arm and opened his hand.
Paul met it with a friendly grasp, while the faces of both men expanded
in smiling goodwill.
"Y-you're a trump, P-Paul," said the captain. "I--I--won't drink
a-another d'op!"
And Master Trench kept his word. From that day forth, till
circumstances rendered drinking impossible, he drank nothing stronger
than water.
Soon after this event the weather improved, damages were again repaired,
and the skipper--in whom there was much of the spirit of the old
vikings--once more laid his course for Norway, resolving to steer, as
the said vikings were wont to do, by the stars. But a spirit of mutiny
was abroad in the forecastle by that time. If hard work, hard fare, and
hard fortune are trying even to good men and true, what must they be to
bad men and false?
"Here's how it lays, men," said Big Swinton, in a subdued voice, to a
knot of friends around him. "Blowin' hard as it has bin ever since we
left England, it stands to reason that we must have pretty nigh got
across the western sea to that noo land discovered by that man wi' the
queer name--I can't remember rightly--"
"Columbus, you mean," cried George Blazer. "Why, my father sailed with
Columbus on his first voyage."
"No, it wasn't Columbus," returned Swinton, in a sharp tone, "an' you
needn't speak as if we was all deaf, Blazer. It was John Cabot I was
thinkin' of, who, with his son Sebastian, discovered land a long way to
the nor'ard o' Columbus's track. They called it Newfoundland. Well, as
I was sayin', we must be a long way nearer to that land than to Norway,
an' it will be far easier to reach it. Moreover, the Cabots said that
the natives there are friendly and peaceable, so it's my opinion that we
should carry on as we go till we reach Newfoundland, an' see whether we
can't lead a jollier life there than we did in Old England."
"But it's _my_ opinion," suggested Little Stubbs, "that the skipper's
opinion on that point will have to be found out first, Swinton, for it's
of more importance than yours. You ain't skipper _yet_, you know."
"That's so, Stubbs," said Squill, with a nod.
"Let your tongues lie still," retorted Swinton, in an undertoned growl.
"Of course I know I'm not skipper yet, but if you men have the courage
of rabbits I'll be skipper before another sun rises--or whoever you
choose to appoint."
A sudden silence ensued for a few moments, for, although there had been
mutinous whisperings before, no one had, up to that time, ventured to
make a distinct proposal that action should be taken.
"What! steal the ship?" exclaimed a huge black-bearded fellow named
Grummidge. "Nay--I'll have no hand in that."
"Of course not; we have no intention to _steal_ the ship," retorted
Swinton, before any one else had time to express an opinion; "we are all
upright honourable men here. We only mean to take the _loan_ of her.
After all we have suffered we are entitled surely to a pleasure-trip,
and when that's over we can return the ship to the owners--if so
disposed. You'll join us in that, Grummidge, won't you? And we'll make
you skipper--or first mate, if you're too modest to take command." This
sally was received with a subdued laugh, and with marks of such decided
approval, that Grummidge was carried with the current--at all events, he
held his tongue after that.
An earnest undertoned discussion followed, and it was finally arranged
that Big Swinton should sound Master Trench about the propriety of
running to Newfoundland instead of returning on their track to Norway.
The seaman was not slow to act. That afternoon, while at the helm, he
made the suggestion to the skipper, but met with a sharp rebuke and an
order to attend to his duty.
No word did Big Swinton reply, but that very night he entered the cabin
with a dozen men and seized the skipper, his son, and Paul Burns, while
they slept. Of course, being greatly outnumbered, they were overcome
and bound. The two officers of the vessel were also seized by another
party on deck, and all the five were imprisoned in the hold.
Next morning they were brought on deck, and made to stand in a row
before Big Swinton, who had, in the meantime, been appointed by the
mutineers to the command of the ship.
"Now, Master Trench," said Swinton, "we are no pirates. We have no
desire to kill you, so that whether you are killed or not will depend on
yourself. If you agree to navigate this ship to Newfoundland--good; if
not we will heave you overboard."
"Heave away then," growled the skipper, his nature being such that the
more he was defied the more defiant he became.
"Well, Master Trench, you shall have your way. Get the plank ready,
boys," said Swinton, turning to the men. "Now stand aside and let the
first mate choose."
The same question being put to the two mates, they returned similar
answers, and were ordered to prepare to walk the plank.
"You don't understand navigation, I fancy, Master Burns," said Swinton
to Paul, "but as you can set broken bones, and things of that sort, we
will spare you if you agree to serve us."
"Thank you," replied Paul, with quiet urbanity. "I prefer to accompany
Master Trench, if you have no objection."
There was a slight laugh at the coolness of this reply, which enraged
the new skipper.
"Say you so?" he exclaimed, jumping up. "Come, then, shove out the
plank, lads, and bring them on one at a time."
"Stop!" cried little Oliver, at this point. "You've forgot _me_."
"No, my little man, I haven't," returned Swinton, with a cynical smile.
"You shall accompany your amiable father; but first I'll give you a fair
chance," he added, in a bantering tone: "will _you_ navigate the ship?"
"Yes, I will," answered Oliver promptly.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the new skipper, taken aback by the boy's boldness,
and at a loss for a reply.
"Yes, indeed," retorted Oliver, "only put me in command, with an auger,
and I'll navigate the ship to the bottom of the sea, with you and all
your cowardly crew on board of her!"
"Well said, little master," cried Grummidge, while a general laugh of
approval went round.
Seeing that there was a symptom of better feeling among some of the men,
Master Trench was about to make an appeal to them, when--
"Land ho!" was shouted by the look-out in stentorian tones.