HOMEWARD BOUND.
Jack Somers was compelled to remain at Key West three weeks before he
could find a vessel bound to the North; and the important documents
which he carried burned in his pocket. He wanted to show them to
Captain Barney, to his mother, and to all his friends in Pinchbrook.
They were the evidences of his good conduct, of his skill and bravery;
and, though Jack was a modest young man, he was proud of his record. He
had served his country faithfully and zealously; and he was grateful to
his friends for their high appreciation of his services.
During those three weeks of idleness, Jack applied himself closely to
the study of navigation; using a book which Captain McBride had kindly
presented to him. He felt that he had not a moment to waste, and that
his future success depended upon the zeal and energy with which he
devoted himself to his studies. He was anxious to secure a high rank
in the Naval School; and he was willing to purchase his anticipated
position by hard work.
He was already a thorough seaman. Tom Longstone had been a patient
teacher, and he had learned all that belongs to an able seaman’s
duty. He was perfectly familiar with the practical part of gunnery;
was thoroughly posted in all the technicalities of the ship and its
batteries. Of the science of gunnery he knew only what he had learned
from his books since the Middy sailed from New Orleans. He had thus
obtained a measure of knowledge in regard to the practical details of
his profession, to the attainment of which the young gentlemen in the
Naval School must devote months or years. But Jack had not acquired
all this information during the single year he had been in the navy: he
had simply added to his previous knowledge by close attention to his
duty.
Busy as he was with his studies, he found time to write a long letter
to Captain Bankhead, informing him of the reception of his warrant,
and expressing his gratitude for the friendly interest he had ever
manifested in his welfare. “I shall always think the trip we made to
Fort Warren on that dark November night, a year ago, was the luckiest
cruise I ever made,” wrote Jack in the letter; “for it gave me a friend
who has done more for me than I could ever have done for myself.”
Jack wrote this; but I am sure that Captain Bankhead neither would
nor could have done what he did, if our hero had not deserved such
distinguished favors,--if he had not been a good boy and a good seaman.
He had several weeks before received letters from home, informing
him that his brother had been promoted to a lieutenancy. Tom was a
commissioned officer, and was therefore some months, if not years,
ahead of him in the race for distinction; but both of them, while
they had a just and proper regard for the honors of their respective
professions, were better satisfied to have served their country in its
hour of trial than they were to receive their merited promotion.
Jack wanted very much to get home; but he was so busy with his studies,
that he had no time to be impatient at the delay. When an opportunity
to depart was presented, he was much less elated than his half-dozen
impatient companions who had nothing to occupy their minds. The men who
were to go North were sent on board of an old steamer, which was hardly
seaworthy, and which was going to New York for repairs.
The voyage was prosperous till the steamer reached the latitude of Cape
Hatteras, where she was overtaken by one of the severe gales which
prevailed in that region. The vessel leaked badly, and shipped great
seas, till she was in imminent danger of foundering. It required the
utmost exertion of all hands to keep her afloat; but the men worked
zealously and cheerfully, till an accident to the engine seemed to
deprive them of all hope of ever seeing the land again.
The ship rolled and pitched heavily in the head-seas for a time; and,
at every roll, it seemed as though her back must be broken. By almost
superhuman efforts on the part of the crew, sufficient sail was set to
keep her head up to the sea, and she worked easier. Jack had just come
down from the fore-topsail-yard, completely exhausted by the violence
of his exertions. Life-lines had been extended along the deck for the
men to hold on by when the seas swept over the decks. Jack had grasped
one of these ropes just as the ship felt her helm; when a great combing
billow broke over the bow, sweeping a flood of water towards the stern.
The second-lieutenant of the steamer, who had been forward
superintending the setting of the sail, was in front of him, and,
either by accident or carelessness, lost his hold upon the life-line.
The mass of water bore him along as though he had been a feather,
towards a hole which the sea had stove in the bulwarks. Perceiving the
perilous situation of the officer, Jack seized the inner fake of a
rope, flemished on the deck, and sprang towards the lieutenant. Passing
the line around his body, he followed the rolling billow, and succeeded
in securing a hold upon the officer’s leg, just as he was sliding over
the plank-shear into the sea.
Jack would certainly have gone with him, if his attentive shipmates
had not grasped the other end of the line by which he had secured
himself. Another sea rolled over them before they could recover their
perpendicular positions; but Jack held on to the leg of the officer,
and the men hauled them both up to the life-line.
“Your name?” demanded the lieutenant, when he had regained his feet.
“Somers, sir.”
“Well, Somers, this is a bad time to plank the deck,” he added with a
smile, as he emptied the salt water from his mouth.
“Very bad, sir.”
“You shall hear from me again, Somers,” added the officer as he walked
aft.
After the crew of the old steamer had endured more than we have room
to describe, the gale broke; and, favored with better weather, the
engine was repaired, and she proceeded on her voyage, very much to the
satisfaction of those who had lost all hope of ever reaching the land.
The next day, while the ship was rolling heavily through the sea which
had not yet subsided, Jack, who had just been relieved from duty at the
pumps, was accosted by Mr. Waldron, the second-lieutenant, whom he had
saved from an ocean-grave.
“Somers, you saved my life yesterday: what can I do for you?” said he.
“Thank you, sir: I’m not in want of anything just now,” replied Jack,
touching his cap.
“Your time is out, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you quit the navy?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, then, my lad, you shall have a better berth than you had before.
I think I have influence enough to procure a good rating.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Jack.
“You look as though you would make a good topman. What do you say to
being captain of the main-top?”
“Thank you, sir: I have been rated as cockswain of the captain’s gig
and as a quartermaster.”
“Is that so? Then I may not be able to do anything better in that
direction.”
Jack thought it would be a good joke to show him his midshipman’s
warrant at this point of the conversation; and accordingly he produced
the precious document.
“What are you doing forward with this paper in your pocket?” asked the
astonished lieutenant.
“I had no uniform, sir, and was in no condition to appear as an
officer.”
“You shall swing your hammock in the steerage for the rest of the
voyage, at least. If you are a brother-officer, I need not think of
rewarding you,” laughed Mr. Waldron.
“I hope not, sir.”
Jack was immediately presented to the captain, who ordered him to
carry his bag into the steerage, greatly to the astonishment of his
late companions, who had no suspicion that they had messed with so
distinguished an individual as a midshipman. The steamer rolled along
on her voyage, and at last arrived at New York.
Jack lost no time in proceeding to Boston, though not till he had
arranged for a meeting with Mr. Waldron at some future time; for
the grateful officer insisted upon continuing the acquaintance so
fortunately begun. It was about sunset when the sailor-boy reached
Pinchbrook.
“Hallo, Jack, my hearty!” said a familiar voice as he stepped from the
car.
“Captain Barney!”
“Ay, ay, my lad! But where do you come from? We did not expect you back
yet a while,” added the old gentleman, still wringing our hero’s hand.
Jack briefly informed his good friend where he had come from.
“Well, Jack----”
“I beg your pardon, Captain Barney: call me Mr. Somers, if you please,”
laughed Jack.
“Eh?”
“Mr. Midshipman Somers is my present designation.”
“Whew!” whistled the old sailor.
“I have won my warrant.”
“Well, _Mr._ Somers----”
“Avast, captain: that will do. You may call me Jack, now; for I don’t
know the sound of my own name with such a long handle to it.”
“Come down to the house with me, Jack.”
“Oh, no, sir! not now. I must go up and see mother--and father: I
haven’t seen him for nearly two years.”
“Never mind: come down to the house. You will scare your mother out of
her wits if you bolt in upon her like a harpoon into a whale. I’ll put
the horse in, and take you up pretty soon.”
“I want to see her at once.”
“And frighten her into a fit!”
“She don’t have fits: at any rate, she would only have a fit of
gladness at seeing me.”
Captain Barney persisted, apparently firm in the belief that Mrs.
Somers would go into hysterics if her son presented himself too
suddenly. It would be better to break the news gradually to her. Jack
could not help himself, and walked home with Captain Barney. He was
conducted to the library as the bell rang for tea.
“Come, Jack, now come out and have some supper with me,” said the
captain.
“No, sir: decidedly, I cannot. What would my mother say if I took tea
in Pinchbrook before I went home?” replied Jack emphatically.
“Well, come out and look at the folks, at any rate; and then, if you
insist on going, I will harness right up.”
Jack began to protest that he would not go, even to look at the folks;
when Captain Barney took him by the arm, and gently forced him through
the door leading to the dining-room.
“Why, John Somers!” exclaimed a voice which Jack could not possibly
mistake.
“Why, Jack, my boy! is that you?” added another voice equally familiar
to his ear.
In another moment our sailor-boy was in the arms of his mother, who
hugged and kissed him as though he were still an infant. Mr. Midshipman
Somers, regardless of the dignity of an officer in the United States
Navy, wept like a baby. His “top-lights” were flooded, in spite of all
his efforts to suppress the rising tide; but we are happy to say that
Mrs. Somers did not go into hysterics, “conniptions,” or anything of
the sort. Like a sensible woman, she did not even faint.
Captain Somers took the hand of his brave boy, and gave him a sailor’s
hearty welcome home. The whole family, it appeared, were taking tea at
the hospitable mansion of the retired shipmaster, who had got up a
surprise for Jack as well as for his mother.
“Don’t you think my mother will be frightened into a fit, Captain
Barney?” said Jack, when the first greetings were over. “You meant to
throw me into a fit.”
“Well, Jack, I had no more idea of seeing you than I had of seeing Jeff
Davis. I went up after my newspaper; for I can’t eat my supper till
I’ve seen the news; but I didn’t expect to bring you back with me.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
“Next time you come home, I suppose you’ll be an admiral.”
“I hope not; for I shall be older than you are, then.”
I need not tell my readers what a happy evening was spent at Captain
Barney’s, nor how late Jack and his parents sat up that night in
reviewing the events of the year. Tom’s letters were all brought out
and read; and Jack could not help taking a little walk about the house,
though the Pinchbrook clock was striking twelve.
“Eight bells! All the starboard watch, ahoy!” said Jack, as he kissed
his mother, and went to his old chamber in the attic of the cottage.
A few days after his return, Jack put on his uniform: and certain young
ladies declared that he was even a “handsomer fellow than his brother
Tom”; for patriotic young ladies have a high regard for blue coats and
bright buttons.
At the expiration of his furlough, Jack reported at the Naval School;
and here--leaving him as a bright example of what a young man may
accomplish by being true to himself, true to his country, and true
to God--here properly ends the eventful history of “THE SAILOR BOY,”
though not of “JACK SOMERS IN THE NAVY.”
FOOTNOTES:
[A] We refer those who are curious to know more about ships-of-war to
Master Brady’s “Kedge Anchor;” to Herman Melville’s “White Jacket, or
the World in a Man-of-War,” and, for ships in general, to Mr. Dana’s
“Seaman’s Friend.”
[B] Discharged, dead.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.