THE HUMOURS OF AN INDIAMAN
The mystery being at an end, most of the passengers, after a brief
spell of loitering and talking, went below, little Saunders leading
the way with the meteorolite, and the captain closing the procession,
to finish the glass of grog; he had been disturbed at by finding the
ship off her course. I was exchanging a few words with Mr. Cocker on
this second queer incident of the day, when the fellow who was at the
wheel exclaimed: ‘Beg pardon, sir;’ and I saw him shift very uneasily
from one leg to the other with a drag of the length of his arm over his
brow, as though he freely perspired.
‘What is it?’ inquired Mr. Cocker.
‘Am I expected to stand here alone, sir?’ asked the fellow.
‘Certainly. What! On a fine night like this? What do you want? That I
should call hands to the relieving tackles?’ cried the second-mate.
The man sent a look up at the stars before answering, with a sort of
cowering air in the posture of his head.
‘One of them blooming boomerangs,’ said he, ‘might come along again,
sir. What’s a man to do if time ain’t allowed him to get out of the
road?’
‘Your having a companion won’t help you,’ said the second-mate.
‘I dunno,’ answered the fellow. ‘Whatever it be that chucks the like of
them things, might hold off at the sight of _two_ of us.’
The second-mate stood looking at him a little, and then burst into a
laugh.
‘Well, well!’ said he; ‘if there’s ever a lead-line to sound the depths
of forecastle ignorance, I allow there must be fathoms enough of it to
belay an end to the moon’s horns.’
Nevertheless he called to one of the watch to come aft and hold the
wheel with the other man, making some allowance, I daresay, for the
superstitious feelings which possessed the sailor, and which were
certainly not to be softened down by the sight of the great bloodstain
close to his feet.
I went below for a glass of brandy, and found the passengers listening
to Mr. Saunders, who, with the meteorolite before him, was delivering
a discourse on that kind of stone, pointing to it with his finger,
speaking very slowly and emphatically, and looking in his wistful way
up into the faces of his audience. Even Miss Temple seemed interested,
and stood listening with her back against the mizzen-mast, the
embellished trunk of which formed a very noble fanciful background
for her fine figure. However, I was more in the temper for a pipe of
tobacco than for a lecture, and was presently on deck again, for after
half-past nine o’clock in the evening we were privileged to smoke
upon the poop. Colledge presently joined me; but in twenty minutes
he gave a prodigious yawn and then went to bed; and I paced the deck
alone, with deep enjoyment of the hush coming to the ship out of the
dark scintillant distance--a silence of ocean-night that seemed to
be deepened to the senses by the marble stillness of the wide white
pinions stealing and floating up in a sort of glimmer of spaces to the
faint mist-like square of the main royal. There was a faint noise
of trembling and rippling waters over the side, and the line of the
taffrail with the two fellows at the wheel rose and fell very softly to
the black secret heave of the long deep-sea undulation. The cuddy lamps
were dimmed, the interior deserted; there was a small group of smokers
on the quarter-deck in the shadow of the bulwark conversing quietly;
abaft the mizzen rigging flitted the dusky form of old Keeling, who had
come up to take a turn or two and a final squint at the weather before
turning in.
Some one emerged through the companion hatch, and, after looking about
him a little, crossed to the lee rail, where I was standing.
‘Is that you, Dugdale?’
‘Yes,’ said I. ‘What’s the matter, Greenhew? Time to be in bed, isn’t
it?’
‘Oh, I say, Dugdale,’ exclaimed the young fellow in a breathless kind
of way, as though the effort to check some fit of merriment nearly
choked him, ‘there’s such a lark down-stairs--in my cabin--Riley, you
know’---- And here he laughed out.
‘What’s the lark?’ I asked.
‘I want you to come and see,’ he answered. ‘I found it out by the
merest accident. Heavens, what capers! And if I don’t contrive some
excuse to introduce Miss Hudson into the cabin, that she may see
him---- Well! well! But come along, though.’
‘But, my good fellow, let me first of all know what I am to see,’ said
I. ‘I am enjoying the silence and coolness of this deck and my pipe
and’----
He interrupted me as he cautiously stared around him.
‘You know, of course, that Riley’s got the bunk under me?’ he exclaimed
in a fluttering voice, as though he should at any moment break out into
a loud laugh; ‘well, you can make him do whatever you like when he’s
asleep.’
‘Go on,’ said I; ‘I may understand you presently.’
‘When I went to my cabin to turn in,’ he continued, ‘I found him in
bed; and imagining him to be awake, I exclaimed, just as a matter
of chaff, you know: “Look out, my friend! There’ll be a meteorolite
crashing clean through my bunk into your head in a minute--so, mind
your eye, Riley!” The moment I said this he hopped out from between
his sheets on to the deck, and stood cowering with his hands over his
head, as if to shelter it. His eyes were shut, and I supposed he was
playing the fool. “Get back into bed, man,” said I; “you can’t humbug
me.” He immediately lay down again in a manner that surprised me, I
assure you, Dugdale; for it was as full of obedience as the behaviour
of any beaten dog. I watched him a little, to see if he opened his
eyes; but he kept them shut, and his breathing proved him fast asleep.
I thought I would try him again. “Hi, Riley!” I exclaimed. “Here’s
Peter Hemskirk come to haul you out of your bunk. Protect yourself,
or he’ll be dragging you into the cuddy, dressed as you are, and Miss
Hudson is there to see you.” Instantly, Dugdale’--here he clapped his
hands to his lips, to smother a fit of laughter--‘he doubled up his
fists and let fly at the air, kicking off the clothes, that he might
strike out with his legs; and thus he lay working all over like a
galvanised frog. You never saw such a sight. Come down and look at him.’
‘Have you observed anything of the sort in him before?’ said I,
knocking the ashes out of my pipe.
‘Never before,’ he answered; ‘but I have him on the hip now. He’s
tried to make a fool of me to Miss Hudson, and this blessed evening
shows me my way to a very pretty rejoinder. Come along, come along!
Should he wake, there can be no performance.’
He went gliding with the step of a skater to the companion, and I
followed, scarcely knowing as yet whether the young fellow was not
designing in all this some practical joke of which I was to be the
victim. We passed through the deserted cuddy, faintly lighted by one
dimly burning lantern, and descended to the lower deck, where the
corridor between the berths was illuminated by a bull’s-eye lamp fixed
under a clock against the bulkhead. The cabin shared by the young men
stood three doors down past mine on the same side of the ship. Greenhew
halted a moment to listen, then turned the handle, took a peep, and
beckoned me to enter. Affixed to a stanchion was a small bracket lamp,
the glow of which was upon Riley’s face as he lay on his back in an
under bunk, unmistakably in a deep sleep. His eyes were sealed, his
lips parted, his respirations low and deep, as of one who slumbers
heavily. The wild disorder of the bedclothes was corroboration enough
of Greenhew’s tale, at least in one article of it.
‘Try him yourself,’ said my companion in a low voice.
‘No, no,’ I answered. ‘I have a sailor’s reverence for sleep. You have
invited me here to witness a performance. It is for you to make the
play, Greenhew.’
He at once cried out: ‘Riley! Riley! the ship is sinking! For God’s
sake strike out, or you’re a drowned man!’
I was amazed to observe the young fellow instantly rise to his knees
and motion with his arms in the exact manner of a swimmer, yet with a
stoop of the head to clear it of the boards of the upper bunk, which
I considered as remarkable as any other part of the extraordinary
exhibition for the perception that it indicated of surrounding
conditions; whilst his gestures on the other hand proved him completely
under the control of the delusion created by his cabin-fellow’s cry.
I also observed an expression of extreme suffering and anxiety in his
face, that was made dumb otherwise by the closed lids. In fact it was
the countenance of a swimmer battling in agony. Greenhew looked on
half choking with laughter.
‘Oh,’ he whipped out in disjointed syllables, ‘if Miss Hudson could
only see him now! Dugdale, you’ll have to find me some excuse to
introduce her here. Her mother must attend too--the more the merrier!’
and here he went off again into a fit, as though he should suffocate.
For my part, I could see nothing to laugh at. Indeed, the thing shocked
and astonished me as a painful, degrading, mysterious expression of the
human mind acting under conditions of which I could not be expected
of course to make head or tail. Riley continued to move his arms
with the motions of a swimmer for some minutes, meanwhile breathing
hard, as though the water’s edge rose to his lip, whilst his face
continued drawn out into an indescribable expression of distress. His
gesticulations then grew feeble, his respiration lost its fierceness
and swiftness and became once more long drawn and regular, and
presently he lay back, still in a deep sleep, in the posture in which I
had observed him when I entered.
‘What d’ye think of _that_?’ exclaimed Greenhew with a face of
triumphant enjoyment.
‘A pitiful trick for a sleeper to fall into,’ said I. ‘I like your show
so little, Greenhew, that I wish to see no more of it.’
‘Oh, nonsense!’ he exclaimed; ‘let’s keep him caper-cutting a while
longer. I’ll have a regular performance here every night. It shall be
the talk of the ship, by George!’
As he spoke these words, Riley uttered a low cry, opened his eyes full
upon us, stared a moment with the bewilderment of a man who has not all
his senses, then sat upright, running his gaze over his bedclothes.
‘What is the matter?’ he exclaimed, looking around at us. ‘Who has
been’----
The light and expression of a full mind entered his eyes. He threw his
feet over on to the deck and stood up.
‘Have I been making a fool of myself in my sleep, Dugdale?’ said he.--I
was at a loss for an answer.--He proceeded: ‘I know my weakness. I
have heard of it often enough--at school--from my mother--again and
again since, Dugdale. Greenhew has brought you here to watch me. And
that means,’ cried he, turning fiercely upon Greenhew, ‘that you
have been exercising your humour upon me in my sleep, and instead of
compassionating a painful and humiliating infirmity, you have’----
His temper choked him. He clenched his fist and let fly at friend
Greenhew right between the eyes. Down went the Civil Service man like
a statue knocked off its pedestal; but he was up again in a minute;
and neither of them wanting in spunk, at it they went! It was enough
to make any man die of laughter to see Riley’s very imperfectly clad
figure dancing and manœuvring round Greenhew with the gestures of a
cannibal at a feast-dance, yet all the while handsomely plumping his
fists into his antagonist, who hammered wildly in return with a ruddy
nose and one eye already slowly closing. I threw myself between them,
but could do little for laughing. They fought in silence, so far at
least as their voices were concerned; but the hard thumps they dealt
the bulkhead as they went pommelling each other from side to side,
not to mention their frequent capsizals over boxes, the flight of any
objects, such as boots, which their toes happened to strike against,
might well have caused the occupants of the adjacent cabins to believe
that if this scramble did not signify a rush of people escaping from a
sinking ship, then it must certainly mean a desperate mutiny amongst
the crew accompanied by all the disorder of a struggle for life.
‘For heaven’s sake, stop this!’ I shouted; ‘consider how terrified the
ladies will be. Greenhew, cease it, man. Riley, get you into your bunk
again’----
Here there was a violent thumping upon the door of the cabin.
‘Anybody fallen mad here?’ was bawled in the familiar notes of Colonel
Bannister, ‘or is it murder that’s being done?’
He opened the door and looked in.
‘Vot, in Got’s name, iss happening?’ rumbled the deep voice of Peter
Hemskirk over the military man’s shoulder.
The ship slightly leaned at that moment, and caused the Dutchman to put
his weight against the colonel, with the consequence that the little
soldier was shot into the cabin with Mynheer at his heels.
‘What’s this?’ cried the colonel.
‘I’ll teach you!’ gasped Riley.
‘Haven’t you had enough?’ shouted Greenhew.
‘Seberate ’em! seberate ’em!’ exclaimed Hemskirk. ‘Look, shentlemen,
how Mr. Greenhew bleeds.’
‘What on earth is the matter?’ exclaimed some one at the door.
It was Mr. Emmett. He trembled, and was very pale. He had thrown his
tragedian cloak over his shoulders, and looked a truly ludicrous
object with a short space of his bare shanks showing and his feet in
a pair of large carpet slippers. In fact, by this time the whole of
the passengers were alarmed, the ladies looking out of their doors and
calling, the men hustling into the passage to see, with the sound of
Mr. Prance’s voice at the head of the steps of the hatch shouting down
to know what the noise was about. It was more than I could stand. The
figures of the colonel and the Dutchman and Emmett, not to mention
Riley, coming on top of the absurdity of the fight, proved too much
for me. I took one look at Greenhew, shot through the door, gained my
cabin, and flung myself into my bunk, exhausted with laughter, and
utterly incapable of answering the numberless questions which Colledge
fired off at me.
The noise ceased after a while, but not before I heard the captain’s
storming accents outside my berth. I could also hear the colonel
complaining in strong language of so great an outrage as that of two
young men fighting in the dead of night within the hearing of ladies.
The old skipper insisted on one of the young fellows quitting the cabin
and sharing the berth tenanted by Mr. Fairthorne. Both vehemently
refused to budge. The captain then asked who struck the first blow.
Riley answered that he had, and was beginning to explain, when old
Keeling silenced him by saying that he would give him five minutes to
retire to Mr. Fairthorne’s berth, and that if he had not cleared out by
that time he would send for the boatswain and a sailor or two to show
him the road. This ended the difficulty, as I was told next morning,
and the rest of the night passed quietly enough.
Next day, Mr. Riley put in an appearance at breakfast. On seeing me
he came round to my seat, and in a few words begged me not to explain
the cause of the quarrel, as he had no wish that his peculiarity as
a sleeper should be known to the rest of us. I gave him my word, but
regretted that he should have exacted it, as I wished to talk with
Saunders and Hemmeridge on the very extraordinary manifestations I had
witnessed. It was fortunate, however, that my share in the disturbance
was not guessed at. The colonel, Hemskirk, and the rest imagined that
I had been drawn to the young men’s berth by the noise, as they had,
and no questions were therefore asked me. Mr. Greenhew kept his bed
for three days. It was mainly sulking and shame with him, the others
thought; but the truth was his eye had not only closed, but was so
swollen and blackened as to render him unfit to appear in public. He
sent one of the stewards to ask me to see him; but I had had quite
enough of Mr. Greenhew, and contrived to keep clear of the youth until
his coming on deck made escape from him impossible.
Nothing happened worth noting in the week that followed this business.
The trade-wind blew as languid a breeze as ever vexed the heart and
inflamed the passions of a ship-master. It was to be a long passage, we
all said--six months, Mr. Johnson predicted--and old Keeling admitted
that he had nothing to offer us in the way of hope until we had crossed
the equator, where the south-east trades might compensate us for this
northern sluggishness by blowing a brisk gale of wind.
However, if the dull crawling of the ship held the spirits of us
who lived aft somewhat low, forward the Jacks made sport enough for
themselves, and of a second dog-watch were as jolly a lot as ever
fetched an echo out of a hollow topsail with salt-hardened lungs. There
were a couple of excellent fiddlers amongst them, and these chaps would
perch themselves upon the booms, and with bowed heads and quivering
arms saw endless dance-tunes out of the catgut. Many a half-hour have I
pleasantly killed in watching and hearkening to the forecastle frolics.
The squeaking of the fiddles was the right sort of music for the show;
the Jacks in couples lovingly embracing each other, slided, twirled,
frisked, polked with loose delighted limbs between the forecastle
rails, their hairy faces grinning over each other’s shoulders; or one
of them would take the deck--the rest drawing off to smoke a pipe and
look on --and break into a noble maritime shuffle--the true deep-sea
hornpipe--always dancing it to perfection, as I would think. One such
scene I vividly recall as I sit writing: a tar of manly proportions, a
little way past the forecastle ladder, plain in the view of the poop,
his shoes twinkling, his flowing duck breeches trembling, his arms
folded, or one hand gracefully arching to his head, his straw hat on
nine hairs, his face between his broad black whiskers showing out in
the hue of claret, his little eyes sparkling with the enjoyment of
the measures, and the perspiration hopping off his nose like parched
peas; past him a crowd of storm-dyed faces meditatively surveying him,
gnawing with excitement upon the junks standing high in their cheeks
in their sympathy with the dancer, or pulling their pipes from their
lips with the slow deliberateness of the merchant sailor to expectorate
and growl out a comment upon the capering lively; to the right of
him amidships on the booms the two fiddlers, working their hardest,
and threatening every moment to topple over on to the deck with the
energy of their movements. Far ahead forked out the great bowsprit
and jib-booms, made massive to the eye by the long spritsail yard
and the enormously thick gear of shrouds and guys; on high rose the
canvas at the fore, yellowing as it soared into a golden tinge to the
westering glory that was setting the heavens on fire on the starboard
beam. Oh! it was a sight beautiful exceedingly, with the gilding of the
ropes by the sunset to the complexion of golden wire, and a long line
of blood-red radiance flowing down to the ship from the horizon, and
making a sparkling scarlet of the fabric’s glossy sides, and putting
a crimson star of splendour into every window, with the sweep of the
dark-blue sea coursing in long lines into the east, that showed in a
liquid softness of violet past the wan spaces of the far overhanging
studdingsails.
In this same week about which I am writing, Mr. Colledge, inspired
possibly by the noise of the fiddles forward and the spectacle of the
forecastle jinks, made an effort to get up a dance aft; but to no
purpose. Some of the girls looked eagerly when the thing was suggested;
and certainly Colledge’s programme was a promising one: there was the
wide spread of awning for a ballroom ceiling; there were flags in
abundance to stretch between the ridge-rope and the rail, as a wall of
radiant colours through which the moon would sift her delicate tender
haze without injury to the light of the lanterns, which were to be hung
in a row on either side fore and aft; there was the piano to rouse up
from its moorings below, and to be secured on some part of the deck
where its tinkling could be everywhere heard. There was also a quiet
sea, and a deck whose gentle cradling could but serve as a pulse to the
joyous revolutions of the waltz.
Colledge was enchanted with his scheme, and went about thirstily in
the prosecution of it; but, as I have said, to no purpose. Colonel
Bannister shouted with derision when asked if he would dance; Greenhew
was not yet well of his eye, was extremely sulky, and hung about in
retired places; Riley called dancing a bore; Fairthorne pleaded tender
feet; little Saunders smote his breast to Colledge’s inquiry and said
plaintively: ‘Who would stand up with _me_?’ In short, every man-jack
of us aft, saving Mr. Johnson and myself, declined to take any active
part in the proposed ball; and Colledge, with a face of loathing,
abandoned the idea, vowing to me that he had never met with such a
pack of scarecrows in his life, and that we should have been better off
in the direction of jollity and companionship had the cargo of monkeys
been spared to take the place of our male passengers.
Thus did we somewhat wearily roll our way through the Atlantic
parallels, fanned by a light north-east wind over the quarter, under a
heaven of blue, with the sun in the midst of it splendidly shining, and
a night-sky of airy indigo rich with stars from sea-line to sea-line.
The flying-fish shot from the coppered sides of the Indiaman, but
saving them and ourselves, the ocean was tenantless of life; we sighted
no ship; no bird hovered near us; once only, when it was drawing near
to midnight, I heard the sounds of a deep respiration off one or the
other of the bows--the noise of some leviathan of the deep rising from
the dark profound to blow his fountain under the stars; but there was
no shadow of it to be seen nor break of white waters to indicate its
neighbourhood. It was but a single sigh, deep and solemn, as though old
ocean himself had delivered it out of his heart, and the glittering
heights seemed to gather a deeper mystery from the mere note of it.