YARNS IN THE FIRST WATCH
AT midnight on the third day after passing Ushant we had crossed the
Bay, and the white flashing light on Cape Finisterre showed abeam.
During the night the wind had fallen, but at daybreak a fresh
off-shore breeze had sprung up, enabling us to make rapid progress
under all plain sail.
Throughout the day we were in sight of the ironbound coast, which
from a distance presented an uninviting aspect. Owing to the
abundance of pyrites along the cliffs there is said to be a danger of
great deviation of the compass, and in our case we found, by taking a
series of azimuths and amplitudes, that such was the case.
Fortunately, there was no sign of mist, so that a compass course was
not absolutely necessary; but that evening the wind fell almost to a
dead calm, and the darkness was so intense that the "Fortuna's" head
was placed a point off the recognized course to prevent possible
accidents.
It was a glorious night. The air was soft and balmy, and, though
there were no stars visible, there was a curious phosphorescence on
the water that compensated for the inky darkness of the atmosphere.
In fact, it was the first evening of the voyage that could be termed
splendid, and at dinner in the saloon we had skylights and ports
opened to admit the air.
Presently came the sound of stringed instruments played with decided
skill and expression. We looked at one another with astonishment, for
music was one of the last things we expected to hear.
"Mr. Wilkins!" called my uncle through the skylight.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the bos'n, descending the companion.
"What's that noise?"
"The watch below have got up a small band," explained the bos'n.
"Shall I pass the word for them to knock off?"
"Oh, no; far from it," said my father. "But where on earth did they
get the instruments from?
"Made 'em from 'baccy-boxes and bits of wire, sir. It's an old
seaman's trick."
"They play jolly well," rejoined my father. "I'll tell you what.
We'll have a concert on deck to-night; it will please the men. Pass
the word, Mr. Wilkins."
The bos'n retired, and presently a hoarse cheer announced that the
skipper's message had been welcomed by the men; and after dinner
the fo'c'sle, illuminated with several lamps, was crowded with the
crew, who sat on inverted tub's, coils of rope, etc., while the
officers were provided with chairs from the saloon.
It seemed really marvellous what music could be obtained from such
primitive instruments as the men had constructed, and, stranger
still, the almost boyish delight that the grown-up men--with one
exception all over forty--took in the rough-and-ready concert.
The items were mostly from the old sea stock, chanties and Dibdin's
songs predominating. The bos'n led off with "Barney Buntline," and
although his version of the words varied somewhat from the original,
the chorus was taken up right lustily by nearly a score of voices,
till some belated peasant on the Iberian shore must have wondered at
the strange noise that came from the sea.
Then often have we seamen heard
How men are killed and undone
By overturns of carriages
And fires and thieves in London.
Bow, bow, bow; rum (give it tongue, lads),
Bow, bow, bow...
The men repeated the chorus till I felt sure their throats ached;
but, nothing daunted, they gave "Sally Brown" in approved chanty
style, followed by a quick-step on their stringed instruments.
"The Anchor's Weighed" and "All's Well" followed in quick succession,
and Dr. Conolly contributed a stump speech with a Hibernian twang
that evoked such rounds of applause that he was compelled to give
what the men, termed "a hancore."
Several other items also received tremendous applause, The Old Folks
at Home being given with such fervour that one would imagine that
every man of the crew had near relations in England, instead of which
they were practically without kith or kin; and just before six bells
"God Save the King" brought the concert to a close, the men standing
with heels together and heads bared in an attitude of devoted and
simple loyalty.
At daybreak on the twelfth day of the voyage the "Fortuna" arrived at
Gibraltar, entering the harbour under power, this being the first
time the motor had been utilized since leaving Fowey. We anchored to
the south'ard of the Rosia Mole, but hardly was everything made snug
when a naval picket-boat steamed off, informing us that we were in
the Admiralty anchorage grounds. So the anchor had to be weighed and
the "Fortuna" moved to a spot pointed out by the lieutenant of the
naval boat, close to the neutral ground, with the Devil's Tower just
showing clear of Mala Point.
Here we were immediately surrounded by a swarm of bumboatmen, who
offered us all kinds of articles, from bread to copper paint, and
from copper paint back to bread; but by liberal speech the bos'n and
the quartermaster cleared them away. The gig was lowered and manned
and we went ashore, where I made my first acquaintance with a foreign
port; for though under the British flag, Gibraltar is essentially
"foreign" in appearance, language, and customs.
Having obtained a clean "bill of health," the next business was to
order stores and water, and for the first time I realized the value
of that precious fluid, which, though excessively dear, was dirty and
not particularly sweet.
Two days later the "Fortuna" left Gib, and with a light easterly
breeze she passed through the Straits under sail and power.
"Why have we the motor running, as the wind is aft?" I asked my
father.
"Because we want to get through the Straits before the tidal stream
changes."
"But we are in the Mediterranean Sea now, are we not? I thought the
Mediterranean was tideless."
"Yes, so it is; but there is a strong tidal current--which is a very
different thing from a tide--running under us now at the rate of
nearly six knots. In another two hours it will change and be against
us. If the Straits were wide enough to admit the progress of the
tidal wave there would be a rise and fall in the ports of the
Mediterranean, but as they are not, only the tidal current rushes in
and out twice every day."
For seven days we kept in sight of the African shore, our rate of
progression averaging ninety-five miles per diem, and as luck would
have it, we missed the gales so prevalent off the Algerian coast, the
weather being balmy by day and cool at night.
On the second night after leaving Gibraltar, I strolled for'ard to
where a group of sailors were sitting on the fo'c'sle telling yarns.
"I hope you won't mind my listening," I said apologetically. "I
should like a good yarn, so carry on, just as if I were not here."
"Carry on, Joe!" exclaimed one of the men. "You were just a-goin' to
spin that yarn about the ghost of the 'M----'s' cat."
"I heard about that yarn when I was in the Channel Fleet," said
another, who had just joined the group, and was busily engaged in
ramming black tobacco into a still blacker clay pipe. "An' much as I
likes Joe Dirham, I shall be obliged to tell 'im he's a liar if he
persists in spinning that cuffer."
"'Tain't no more a cuffer than you are, Fred Money, for, as true as I
sits 'ere, I was the man who saw it."
"What! You saw it."
"Yes."
"Joe," exclaimed his chum, in a mournful voice, "is it only plain
water that you drank with your supper?"
"Never mind him, Joe," chimed in another, "but fire away."
"Well, when I was in the 'M----' in '91-- she was a rotten old
gunboat that would drift to loo'ard as fast as she would steam
ahead--we left Portsmouth for Portland with a lot of diving gear for
the Channel Fleet. It was Christmas Eve, and snowing like anything, I
remember. Just as we had cleared the Needles, the old man called me
--he was a Warrant Officer in charge--and says, 'Dirham, there's a
blessed cat in my cabin. Get hold of her and pitch her overboard or
she'll get hold of my canaries,' for he used to keep a couple of 'em
caged up. Well, I grabs hold of this 'ere cat, and the brute makes
for me and bites my finger. Although I was precious sorry for the
animal, orders is orders, but before slinging it overboard I hits it
behind the ear with a bit of iron bar, and stunned it. Then I lashes
the iron on to its neck and over the side it goes.
"Back I goes to the old man's cabin. 'All correct, sir,' I reports.
'Very well, carry on,' ses 'e, 'but first 'ave a glass of rum.'
Believe me, as I was drinking that, and the old man was sitting in
his easy-chair with his legs on the fender, of the stove, that
blessed cat, or its ghost, walked out from behind the sideboard,
slipped over my boots and under the old man's legs, and disappeared
under the bunk.
"My eyes were nearly startin' out of my 'ead, and I all but dropped
the glass on to the floor. 'What's this, you lying rascal?' roars the
old man. 'What do you mean by sayin' that you drowned that cat?' 'So
I did, sir,' I answered, and told 'im exactly what I had done. I then
searched every inch of the cabin, but no trace of the animal could be
seen, an' the door was shut all the time. ''Elp me!' says he, all of
a shake. 'It's a warnin'. Somethin's goin' to 'appen to me.'"
"And did it?" asked one of the men.
"Yes. 'E married a woman who led him a fine old dance--used to chase
'im round the Dockyard wall and up Queen Street every time 'e went
ashore, givin' 'im a piece of 'er mind."
"Is that all?" asked one of his listeners.
"Isn't that enough? I calls upon Ted Hinks to spin the next yarn."
"D'ye want to hear how I was disrated?" asked Hinks, knocking out his
pipe and helping himself from another man's pouch. "Well, here it is:
In '87, I was gunner's mate of the 'H----,' and a comfortable ship
she was, except for one luff, a chap called Warmbath. One day while
we were lying at Portland, this luff had charge of a party of men
going to the rifle-range, and, as gunner's mate, I went too.
"The men marched in two companies in sections of fours, the lootenant
and I being between the last file of the first company and the first
section of the second company. Presently I saw the Commander coming
down the hill towards us.'Here's the Commander coming, Mr. Warmbath,'
says I. 'Make the men shoulder arms by companies as he passes'--for
in those days it was shoulder, and not slope, arms.
"'Who told you to tell me my business, gunner's mate?' snapped old
Warmbath, so I subsided like a thrashed cur; but I'm blowed if the
luff didn't lose his head, for when the leading section came abreast
the Commander he gave the order to 'present arms.'
"Some of the men actually obeyed the order and marched along with
their rifles at the 'present,' like those wooden soldiers that kids
play with; others sloped or shouldered arms, while the remainder
simply carried on; but every man-jack of 'em laughed outright.
"'Mr. Warmbath, you'll report yourself to me on board,' was all the
Commander said; but that was enough. When he got aboard he said it
was all my fault--I had told him to make the men present arms. He was
cautioned, I was disrated, and a precious long time it was afore I
got made gunner's mate again.'"
"Couldn't you do anything in the matter?" I asked. "Surely the men
nearest to you heard what you said to the lieutenant?"
"Yes, Mr. Reginald, they did," replied Hinks, "but there's no Court
of Criminal Appeal in the Navy--at least, not yet."
"Now, Bill Stainer, it's your turn."
"Another time, mate; it's my watch below now."