Hi, presto!
As if by magic, the imposing array of `sucking bluejackets' whom I had
just been gazing upon with a sort of personal admiration from the fact
of my being one of their number, an admiration which was tempered by a
slight feeling of awe of the discipline that controlled them, melted
away almost noiselessly, like those Arabs who `folded their tents'
according to the poem, the boys being all in their bare feet, and their
patter along the deck and down the hatchways not making any sound above
a faint shuffling; and soon this was drowned by the eldritch screeching
of our friends the seagulls circling round on the wing in their wonted
manner, and poising themselves anon in mid-air above the ship, looking
down to see whether it was dinner-time yet aboard, and there was a
chance of any stray scraps being chucked over the side from the
`gashing-tub,' or waste butt in which the refuse of our meals was thrown
on the lower deck.
The new boys of both watches were told to stand by, by one of the
seaman-instructors; and so, instead of racing down below with our older
comrades, Mick and I, with the other nine who had lately joined,
remained on the fore part of the deck.
"These boys, sir," said the instructor, touching respectfully his cap as
he advanced towards the officer of the watch, who stood on the quarter-
deck, a thin grey-haired old chap, whom I subsequently learnt was the
gunner, though I never had the pleasure of seeing him before, "haven't
been over the masthead yet, sir."
"All right," replied the gentleman addressed, saluting the instructor in
his turn; the politeness and courteous deference paid on board all ships
belonging to Her Majesty's Service from one officer to another, be his
rank high or low, being one of the best lessons in manners that man or
boy could have afloat or ashore, especially the latter. "Carry on!"
Permission, accordingly, being granted for the ordeal to which we were
about to be subjected, the smart seaman-instructor came back to where we
were drawn up in single file forwards.
"Now, my lads," he said, "you haven't any of you passed through your sea
baptism yet, I think. Ever been up aloft, eh?"
He had stopped in front of `Ugly,' whose face yet bore traces of our
recent combat, although the cuts on his lip and nose had healed up; and,
indeed, I couldn't well boast, for one of my eyes had a singularly
picturesque greeny-yellowy look still about it.
"Hoi?" exclaimed `Ugly,' in his yokel fashion. "I dunno wot yer means,
zur."
"Well, I'll soon tell you," rejoined the instructor. "I mean, have you
ever been over the masthead?"
"No-a," said `Ugly,' staring sheepishly at him; and then, as he followed
his questioner's eye, on it glancing up aloft, he added, "Doos yer mean
oop there, zur?"
"Aye."
"No-a, zur."
"Then, you'll have to go up now," said the instructor, in a tone that
showed he intended to be obeyed. "Lads, attention!"
We all drew ourselves up, `Ugly' included, as rigid and woodeny as those
strange figures that are supposed to represent the patriarchs Shem, Ham,
and Japheth seen in the Noah's arks of our childhood.
"Boys," cried the instructor in a louder key, pointing as he spoke, "you
see the mainmast there?"
We signified assent as well as we were able to do without losing our
rigidity or speaking, which latter is strictly against rules when an
officer is giving any order, except when an answer is specially
demanded.
Noticing, however, that we all looked in the right direction, the
seaman-instructor was satisfied with this reply; but really there was no
reason why he should not be so, for if we had not seen the tall spar
that he pointed out we must all have been blind!
At all events, he was satisfied; and that is all that concerns us at
present.
"Now, boys," he continued, "you've got to go over the top of that there
masthead, climbing right up the rigging on the port side, and coming
down to starboard. Let me see which of you will be first to get over
the crosstrees, and woe betide the last! Away you go, now, the lot o'
ye! 'Way aloft!"
It was child's play to me; for, as I told Larrikins the first day I was
on board, when he was trying to `pull my leg' with his yarns of the
mountainous seas he met in the Channel cruising in the _Martin_,
`shinning up the rigging' was no novelty to me.
Before you could say `Jack Robinson' I had quickly sprung into the lee
rigging; and, clambering up the ratlines and then outward by the futtock
shrouds, I gained the top long ere half the rest had started.
"Well done, my lad; I see you have been on board a ship before!" cried
out the instructor, as I at once proceeded now to climb up to the
crosstrees and over the head of the mast. "Look alive, you other chaps!
That boy there will have done the job while you are thinking about it.
Stir your stumps!"
`Ugly' was the last of the lot; and, as I came down on the weather or
starboard side of the ship, the wind then blowing from the nor'ard and
eastward, he was just trying to creep through `the lubber's hole' into
the top.
"No you don't," shouted up the instructor after him. "You must climb
out by the futtock shrouds, as every proper sailor does."
Seeing, however, that poor `Ugly' was quite in a fog, he turned to me as
I stepped down from the chains and stood up in front of him, touching my
cap to report myself as having accomplished my task.
"I say, my boy," said he, "what's your name?"