II.

A tar's headway on land--A gentleman's at sea--An agreeable

trio--Musical sounds--Helmsman--Supper--Steward--A truism--

Helmsman's cry--Effect--Cases for bipeds--Lullaby--Sleep.

The motion was just sufficiently lively to inspirit one--making the

blood frolic through the veins, and the heart beat more proudly. The old

tars, as they cruised about the decks, walked as steadily as on land.

This proves nothing, you may say, if you have witnessed Jack's

pendulating, uncertain--"right and left oblique" advance on a shore

cruise.

Our tyros of the sea, in their venturesome projections of their persons

from one given point in their eye to another, in the hope of

accomplishing a straight line, after vacillating most appallingly, would

finally succeed "haud passibus aequis" in reaching the position aimed

for, fortunate if a lee-lurch did not accommodate them with a dry bed in

the "lee scuppers."

Of all laughter-exciting locomotives which most create sensations of the

ludicrously serious, commend me to an old land-crab teaching its young

one to "go _ahead_"--a drunkard, reeling homeward through a broad street

on a Saturday night--and a "gentleman passenger" three days at sea in

his strange evolutions over the deck.

Stretched before me upon the weather hen-coop, enveloped in his cloak,

lay one of our "goodlie companie." If his sensations were such as I

imagined them to be, he must have felt that the simplest chicken under

him wore the stoutest heart.

On the lee hen-coop reposed another passenger in sympathy with his

fellow, to whose feelings I felt a disposition to do equal justice.

Abaft the wheel, coiled up in the rigging, an agreeable substitute for a

bed of down, lay half obscured within the shadow of the lofty stern,

another overdone toper--a victim of Neptune, not of the "jolly god"--but

whose sensations have been experienced by many of the latter's pupils,

who have never tasted other salt water than their own tears.

It has been said or sung by some one, that the "ear is the road to the

heart." That it was so to the stomach, I already began to feel, could

not be disputed; and as certain "guttural sounds" began to multiply from

various quarters, with startling emphasis, lest I should be induced to

sympathize with the fallen novitiates around me, by some _overt_ act, I

hastily glided by the helmsman, who stood alone like the sole survivor

of a battle-field--his weather-beaten visage illuminated at the moment

with a strange glare from the "binnacle-lamp" which, concealed within a

case like a single-windowed pigeon house, and open in front of him,

burned nightly at his feet. The next moment I was in the cabin, now

lighted up by a single lamp suspended from the centre of the ceiling,

casting rather shade than light upon a small table--studiously arranged

for supper by the steward--that non-descript _locum tenens_ for

valet--waiter--chambermaid--shoe-black--cook's-mate, and swearing-post

for irascible captains to vent stray oaths upon, when the wind is

ahead--with a flying commission for here, there, and nowhere! when most

wanted.

But the supper! ay, the supper. Those for whom the inviting display was

made, were, I am sorry to say it, most unhesitatingly "floored" and

quite _hors du combat_. What a deal of melancholy truth there is in that

aphorism, which teaches us that the "brave must yield to the braver!"

As I stood beside the helmsman, I could feel the gallant vessel

springing away from under me, quivering through every oaken nerve, like

a high-mettled racer with his goal but a bound before him. As she

encountered some more formidable wave, there would be a tremendous

outlay of animal-like energy, a momentary struggle, a half recoil, a

plunging, trembling--_onward_ rush--then a triumphant riding over the

conquered foe, scattering the gems from its shivered crest in glittering

showers over her bows. Then gliding with velocity over the glassy

concave beyond, swaying to its up-lifting impulse with a graceful

inclination of her lofty masts, and almost sweeping the sea with her

yards, she would majestically recover herself in time to gather power

for a fresh victory.

Within an hour after clearing the last head-land, whose lights, level

with the plain of the sea, gleamed afar off, twinkling and lessened like

stars, with which they were almost undistinguishably mingled on the

horizon--we had exchanged the abrupt, irregular "seas" of the bay, for

the regular, majestically rolling billows of the ocean.

I had been for some time pacing the deck, with the "officer of the

watch" to recover my sea-legs, when the helmsman suddenly shouted in a

wild startling cry, heard, mingling with the wind high above the booming

of the sea, the passing hour of the night watch.--"Four bells."--"Four

bells," repeated the only one awake on the forecastle, and the next

moment the ship's bell rung out loud and clear--wildly swelling upon the

gale, then mournfully dying away in the distance as the toll ceased,

like the far-off strains of unearthly music--

"----Died the solemn knell

As a trumpet music dies,

By the night wind borne away

Through the wild and stormy skies."

There is something so awful in the loud voice of a man mingling with the

deep tones of a bell, heard at night upon the sea, that familiar as my

ear was with the sounds--the blood chilled at my heart as this "lonely

watchman's cry" broke suddenly upon the night.

When he again told the hour I was safely stowed away in a comfortable

berth, not so large as that of Goliah of Gath by some cubits, yet

admirably adapted to the sea, which serves most discourteously the

children of Somnus, unless they fit their berths like a modern M. D. his

sulkey, lulled to sleep by the rattling of cordage, the measured tread

of the watch directly over me, the moanings, _et caetera_, of sleepless

neighbours, the roaring of the sea, the howling of the wind, and the

gurgling and surging of the water, as the ship rushed through it,

shaking the waves from her sides, as the lion scatters the dew from his

mane, and the musical rippling of the eddies--like a glassichord,

rapidly run over by light fingers--curling and singing under the keel.

The South-West, by a Yankee. In Two Volumes. Volume 1 · 第 42 / 95 题