IN WHICH PHIL ASCERTAINS THE DESTINATION OF THE MICHIGAN.
When my senses came back to me I was lying in my bunk in the
forecastle. Old Jack Sanderson was rubbing my head with spirits.
"How do you feel, Phil?" asked the old salt, tenderly.
"My head!" was all the reply I could make, for everything seemed to be
whirling around, and to be as unsteady as the rolling ocean itself.
"He gave you a hard crack, my lad; but he didn't kill you."
"He might as well," I replied, tightly closing my eyes in my efforts to
steady the scene around me.
"Not a bit of it, Phil, lad. One live man's worth half a dozen dead
ones any time. You'll feel better by and by."
"I feel better now," I added, as things began to be a little more
substantial. "The mate means to kill me, I believe, before he has done
with me."
"He didn't make anything by that crack he gave you. We're rough in
for'ad here, Phil, but we know what's right. The men all like you,
Phil. They say you are smart, and that the mate is down on you. They
are all on your side, every one of 'em, even to the second mate, though
he daresn't say so."
"I am very much obliged to them for their good will; but I'm afraid
they can't help me much while Mr. Waterford is down upon me."
"Perhaps they can, my lad. At any rate, that crack the mate gave you
made you more than a dozen friends. We sailors always go for the bottom
dog."
"I feel better now; I believe I will get up," I added, thinking of my
money, and wondering whether Waterford had examined my trunk again
while I lay senseless in my bunk.
"No, lad; don't get up yet. Keep quiet. I've wasted half a pint of good
spirits on your head."
"Where did you get it?"
"Captain Farraday gave it to me. When he saw what the mate had done,
he was a little scared, and sent me to take care of you. He gave me
a glass of rum to wash your head in. Now lay still, and I will get
another. If you take it inside, it will balance you right--keep you on
an even keel."
He took the glass and disappeared before I could protest against his
proposed treatment; but presently he returned with the tumbler half
full of rum.
"Take a little of this, my lad," said he.
"No, I thank you; I don't need it. I feel much better, and that would
only go into my head, and make me dizzy."
He urged the point very earnestly, but I persisted in my refusal to
touch the vile stuff; the smell of it on my head was enough, and more
than enough, for me.
"It will do you good," Jack insisted.
"Excuse me; I do not need it."
"Well, if you really mean so, I won't say another word about it. But it
is a pity to have it wasted."
"You can return it to the captain."
"That would be worse than wasting it, Phil," he added, as he poured it
down his own throat.
Perhaps this was the use he intended to make of the rum from the first;
but I must do him the justice to say that he had conscientiously
used the first glass he had obtained upon my head, judging from the
condition of my hair. It must have been a great temptation to him.
"Has the mate been here since he knocked me down?" I asked.
"No; he hasn't been near you. He has a bad temper--that man. But what's
the matter with him, lad? Why is he down upon you?"
"It would be a long story, Jack; but I will tell you all about it some
time."
"He says you stole his money."
"I did not steal his money."
"Nobody believes you did."
"I feel better now, and I will get up," I added, suiting the action to
the word.
"Let's see your head, my lad."
The old sailor examined the bump on the side of my head, which was
quite sore, but was nothing serious. The blow had stunned me, and left
me with an aching head; but I had received harder knocks than this
one, and I was not disposed to magnify its effects. Jack left me, and
I had an opportunity to look into my trunk. The bag of gold was safe,
as I had left it. I returned it to the hiding-place where I had first
put it, deeming this more secure than my trunk. I hoped the breeze had
blown over, and I went on deck. The motley crew treated me very kindly
when I made my appearance, and expressed their sympathy with me. In
fact, the instincts of a crew always lead them to take sides against
the officer.
It was the second dog watch, and the mate was not on deck. I ate my
supper with the crew; and at eight bells, the port watch, to which I
belonged, came on duty. We had made an arrangement among ourselves
for the tricks at the wheel; and Gorro, a Spaniard, took the first
turn. The weather, which had thus far been very favorable, now gave
indications of a change. The wind came on squally and heavy, and at
four bells, when the captain came on deck, he ordered the light sails
to be furled.
"Lay aloft, Phil, and furl the main royal," said the mate. "Welsh, the
fore royal."
"Ay, ay, sir," I replied.
I hastened up the main-rigging, my head still shaking from the effects
of the blow I had received. The bark was rolling heavily in the sea,
and the violent gusts of wind made her very unsteady. Not a sail had
been disturbed since we left New York harbor. I had never done any work
aloft, and had never even seen a royal furled. Fortunately the night
was dark, and the mate could not see in what manner I did my work. But
I had learned my lesson, so far as it could be learned by word of mouth.
The royal yard, on such a night as that, was a perilous place for an
inexperienced hand; but I was not to be daunted by any danger. The
halyard was let go, and the sail clewed up. I made up the bunt, and
passed the gasket around the sail. Probably every part of the job was
not done in a thoroughly seaman-like manner; but the sail was secure,
and the mate did not go aloft to see how it was done. When the royal
was furled, I went down, passing the two men who had been sent up to
furl the main top-gallant sail. I paused on the cross-trees to rest
myself a little, and to look out upon the white-capped billows of the
dark ocean.
I had just furled a royal, and I felt like a sailor; I should have
felt more like one if my head had not snapped so violently. The mast
to which I clung was swaying up and down, as the bark rolled in the
billows, and I felt that I had really entered upon the sea swashes of a
sailor.
The wind increased in fury every moment; and though the furling of
the light sails eased the vessel for a time, she soon labored heavily
again. Two men were required at the wheel, and the swash of the sea
came over the bulwarks in tons. At eight bells all hands were called.
The courses had been hauled up, and now a reef was put in the fore and
main topsails. But the bark still held her course to the south-east.
It was a rough night, and all hands remained on deck till eight bells
in the morning, when the weather began to moderate. I was wet to the
skin, and shivered with cold. I had not been allowed to close my eyes,
and I felt that the life of a sailor, even without a brutal mate, was a
severe one.
When the gale subsided, the port watch had the deck, and it was not
till after breakfast that I could get a nap. I slept my four hours;
but in the afternoon all hands were required to work upon rigging and
chafing-gear, as though they had had their regular sleep the night
before. Mr. Waterford was uglier than ever, for he had been on duty
with the crew. He sent me with a green hand to slush down the fore-top
mast--a kind of work which, by the courtesies of the service, should
not be imposed upon an able seaman, as he chose to regard me. I did not
complain, but did the job faithfully.
I will not detail the trials and hardships to which I was subjected
by the malice of the mate. Three weeks passed by, and we saw nothing
of the Straits of Gibraltar. By this time, through a very severe
experience, I had learned my duty. I knew every rope in the ship;
and, if I was not an able seaman, I could do nearly everything that
was required of one. Mr. Waterford had not again assaulted me with a
weapon, but he had labored to make me as uncomfortable as possible. I
saw very little of Captain Farraday, for the reason that he was drunk
in the cabin the greater portion of the time. The two passengers,
both of whom were Spaniards, came on deck every day; but I think that
neither of them ever stepped forward of the mainmast.
There had been a great deal of discussion among the more intelligent
men of the crew in regard to the destination of the bark. We could
not see how she was ever to make the Straits of Gibraltar by heading
to the south-east. The bark was a very fast sailer, and though she
had encountered two gales, she had generally had favorable weather. I
insisted that we were at least a thousand miles south of the latitude
of the straits. The intense heat of the sun, when the wind was light,
as well as his more vertical position, satisfied me on this point.
"Land ho!" shouted a sailor aloft, one morning.
"Where away?" called the mate.
"Broad on the lee bow."
The cry produced an intense excitement on board, and all hands were
on the lookout for the land. I could distinctly see it--a lofty
promontory. The announcement was immediately followed by an order to
keep the bark one point more to the southward, so that we obtained no
nearer view of the land.
"You are a scholar, Phil. What land was that?" asked old Jack
Sanderson, when we happened to be together.
"I don't know; but I have an idea what it is."
"Well what's your idea, my lad?"
"I think it is one of the Cape Verde Islands."
"On the coast of Africa?"
"Yes."
"You don't mean it?"
"I do; you wouldn't believe me when I said we were a thousand miles
south of the straits."
"Well, where are we bound? That's the question."
"I don't know."
"We all shipped for Palermo, and up the Mediterranean. I don't
understand it."
"Nor I; but the mate is wicked enough to do anything. I am satisfied we
are not bound to Palermo."
The whole crew were soon engaged in the discussion. The Spanish and
Portuguese sailors laughed, and looked wise; others didn't care where
we were bound; but the half dozen Americans were really troubled at the
situation.
"Don't grumble," said Martino, the Spaniard. "We make gran fortune out
of this cruise."
"How?" demanded Sanderson.
"No importa," chuckled the Spaniard. "Make gran pile of money on this
cruise."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you know where we are bound?" added Grego, a Portuguese.
"No."
"You may know now; you must know soon. We are bound to the coast of
Africa, for a cargo of niggers," laughed Grego.
I believed it.