A LITTLE BOAT WITH A LARGE CARGO--WORSE THAN THE DRIFT OF A DULL
ARGUMENT, RALPH FINDS DRIFTING ACROSS THE ATLANTIC--HE MEETS WITH LAND
AT LENGTH, AND A REAL IRISH WELCOME--POTATOES AND POTEEN, AND MUCH MORE
FUR THAN FURNITURE.
But this little boat, as it so often bore Caesar and his fortunes, and
our surgeon and his fat, deserves and shall have a more than passing
notice. It was perhaps one of the smallest crafts that ever braved the
seas. Such a floating miniature you may have conceived Gulliver to be
placed in, when he was sighed across the tub of water by his Brobdignag
princess. Woefully and timorously, many's the time and oft did the
obese doctor eye it from the gangway; when asking for a boat, the
first-lieutenant, smiling benignantly, would reply, "Doctor, take the
dinghy." It was all that the dinghy could do, to take the doctor. Then
the care with which he gently deposited himself precisely in the centre
of the very small stern-sheets, would have afforded a fine moral lesson
to those who pretend to watch over the safety of states. As the little
craft, laden with this immense pharmacopoeian depositary, hobbled over
the seas, it seemed almost to progress upright, and "walked the waters
like a thing of life;" for it had a shrewd likeness to a young monkey
learning to go upright, with its two long arms steadying its uncertain
gait, the oars making all this resemblance. Indeed, it was so
diminutive, that it often kept up the two boys that belonged to it from
the fresh as well as the salt water, they clapping it over their heads,
by way of an umbrella, whenever the clouds poured down a libation too
liberal. To those curious in philology I convey the information, that
in the word _dinghy_, the g was pronounced hard. This explanation is
also necessary to do justice to the pigmy floater, as it was always
painted in the gayest colours possible. It was quite a pet of the
first-lieutenant's. Indeed, he loved it so much, that he took care
never to oppress it with his own weight.
The Cove of Cork is a fine harbour, entered by the means of a somewhat
narrow straight. I have forgotten the names of all the headlands and
points, and I am so sick of Irish affairs that I do not choose to go
into the next room and get the map to refer to, for on it there is
scarcely a spot that could meet my eye, that would not give rise to
disagreeable associations. So I prefer writing from memory, magic
memory, that gives me now the picture of five-and-twenty years ago, all
green, and fresh, and beautiful.
On entering the Cove, there were on the left hand of the strait
fortifications and military barracks. Beyond these, to the seaward, and
just on the elbow of the land that formed the entrance to the strait,
our first-lieutenant discovered from the taffrail of the frigate, a
white patch of sand. The rest of the shore was rocky, iron-bound, and
unapproachable from the sea. Mr Farmer took me aft, pointed out to me
the just visible spot, told me to fetch off as much sand as the dinghy
could bear, and return with all expedition. Proud of the commission,
about four p.m., the tide running out furiously, I ordered the
_dinghies_ to be piped away, and walking down the side with due dignity,
with a bucket and a couple of spades, we pushed off, and soon reached
the spot. The boat was loaded, but in the meantime the tide had left,
and, light and small as she was, three little boys could not launch her
till almost all the sand had been returned to its native soil. All this
occupied much time. It was nearly dusk when we got her afloat, and the
wind had got up strongly from off the land. It came on to rain, and we
had not got far from the shore before the tide swept us clean out into
the Atlantic. We were shortly in a situation sufficiently perilous for
the heroic. There we were, three lads, whose united years would not
have made up those of a middle-aged man, in a very little boat, in a
very high sea, with a strong gale that would have been very favourable
for us, if we had wished to steer for New York. As we could not make
head at all against the combined strength of an adverse wind, tide, and
sea, we left off pulling, and threw all the sand out of the boat. We
knew the tide would turn, we hoped that the sea might go down, and
trusted that the wind would change. Before it was quite dark we had
lost sight of the land, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable, as
my boat's crew from stem to stern (no great distance) assured me that we
should certainly be swamped. In this miserable position of our affairs,
and when we should have found ourselves very cold, if we had not been so
hungry, and very hungry if we had not been so cold, an Hibernian
mercantile vessel passed us, laden with timber and fruit, viz. potatoes
and birch-brooms, and they very kindly and opportunely threw us a
tow-rope. This drogher, that was a large, half-decked, cutter-rigged
vessel, made great way through the water, and, as we were dragged after
her, we were nearly drowned by the sea splashing over us, and, had it
not been for our sand-bucket, it is probable that we should have filled.
In the state of the sea, to get on board the drogher from the dinghy,
was an operation too dangerous to be attempted.
But before this assistance came, what were my feelings? No situation
could be more disconsolate, and, apparently, more hopeless. Does not
the reader suppose that there was a continual fishing through my bosom
of agonised feelings? Can he not understand that visions of my
lately-forsaken green play-ground came over the black and massive waves,
and seemed to settle on them as in mockery? But were I to dilate upon
these horrors, would he not weary of them? Had I been the son of a king
thus situated, or even the acknowledged offspring of a duke, there might
have been sympathy. But the newly-emancipated schoolboy, drowned with
two lads just drafted from the Marine Society, in a small boat off the
Irish coast, may be thought a melancholy occurrence, but involving
nothing of particular interest. I see my error: if I wish to create an
effect, I must first prove that I am the son of a duke or a king. I
have begun at the wrong end.
However, let the reader sneer as he will at my predicament, there was
something sublime in the scene around me. The smallness of the craft
magnified the greatness of the waves. I literally enjoyed the
interesting situation which naval writers, who are not nautical, of
"seas running mountains high," so rejoice to describe. One wave on
either hand bounded my horizon. They were absolutely mountain waves to
me; and when our little walnut-shell got on the top of one, it is no
great stretch of metaphor to say, that we appeared ascending to the
clouds. We could not look down upon one wave, until we were fairly on
the back of another. Now, in a vessel of tolerable size, let the sea
rage at its worst, from the ship's decks you always look down upon it,
excepting now and then, when some short-lived giant will poke up its
overgrown head. But I must remember that I am in tow of the potato
craft.
Though she lay well up for the harbour's mouth, she could not fetch it,
so she tacked and tacked again, until nearly ten o'clock, at which time
we in the dinghy were half frozen, and almost wholly drowned. The moon
was now up, though partially obscured by flying rack, and in making a
land board, the honest Pat, in the command of the sloop, shortened the
tow-rope, and hailed us, telling us when we were well abreast of a
little sandy bight, to cast off, pull in, and haul up our boat above
high-water mark. We took his advice, and, without much difficulty,
found ourselves once more on terra firma.
I cannot help, in this place, making the reflection of the singular
events that the erratic life of a sailor produces. Here were evidently
three lives saved, among which was that of the future paragon of
reefers, and neither the saved nor the saviours knew even the names, or
saw distinctly the faces of each other. How many good and brave actions
we sailors do, and the careless world knows nothing about them. The
sailor's life is a series of common-place heroisms.
Well, here we are, landed on the coast of Ireland, but in what part we
knew not, and with every prospect of passing the night under the
grandest, but, in winter, the most uncomfortable roof in the world. The
two lads begged for leave to go up and look for a house; but, as I had
made up my mind that if a loss took place, we should be all lost
together, I would not run the risk of _losing_ my boat's crew, and
_finding_ myself--alone. I refused my consent, telling them that it was
my duty to stay by my boat, and theirs to stay by me. Now this was
tolerably firm, considering the ducking that I had enjoyed, and the
hunger, cold, and weariness that I was then enjoying--enjoying? yes,
enjoying. Surely I have as much right to enjoy them if I like as the
ladies and gentlemen of this metropolis have to enjoy bad health.
But this epicene state of enjoyment was not long to last. A
fresh-coloured native, with a prodigious breadth of face, only to be
surpassed by his prodigious breadth of shoulders, approached, and
addressed us in a brogue so strong, that it would, like the boatswain's
grog, have floated a marlin-spike, and in a stuttering so thick, that a
horn spoon would have stood upright in it. The consequence was, that
though fellow-subjects, we could not understand each other. So he went
and brought down with him a brawny brother, who spoke "Inglis illigantly
anyhow." Well, the proverbial hospitality of the Irish suffered no
injury in the persons of my Irish friends. A pressing invitation to
their dwelling and to their hospitality was urged upon us in terms, and
with looks, that I felt were the genuine offspring of kindness and
generosity of soul. But I still demurred to leave my boat. When they
understood the full force of my objection, my frieze-coated friend, who
spoke the "illigant Inglis," explained.
"O, by Jasus, and ain't she welcome intirely? Come along ye little
undersized spalpeen with your officer, won't you?"
And, before I could well understand what they were about, the two
"jontlemen" had taken up his Majesty's vessel under my command, had
turned it bottom up with several shakes, to clear it of the water and
sand, and with as little difficulty as a farmer's boy would have turned
upside down a thrush's cage, in order to cleanse it. After this
operation had been performed, they righted it, and one laying hold of
the bow, and the other the stern, they swung it between them, as two
washerwomen might a basket of dirty clothes. I must confess that I was
a great deal mortified at seeing my command treated thus slightingly,
which mortification was not a little increased by an overture that they
kindly made to me, saying, that if I were at all tired, they would, with
all the pleasure in the world, carry me in it. I preferred walking.
Officer, boat's crew, guides, boats and oars, proceeded in this manner
for more than half a mile up into the country. At length, by the
moonlight, I discovered a row of earthy mounds, that I positively, at
first, thought was a parcel of heaps such as I had seen in England,
under which potatoes are buried for the winter.
I was undeceived, by being welcomed to the town of some place, dreadful
in "as," and "ghas," and with a name so difficult to utter, that I could
not pronounce it when I attempted, and which, if I had ever been so
fortunate to retain, I should, for my own comfort, have made haste to
forget.
I hope that the "finest pisintry in the world" are better located now
than they were a quarter of a century ago, for they are, or were, a fine
peasantry, as far as physical organisation can make them, and deserve at
least to be housed like human beings; but what I saw, when on that night
I entered the mud edifice of my conductors, made me start with
astonishment. In the first place, the walls were mud all through, and
as rough on the inside as the out. There was actually no furniture in
it of any description; and the only implement I saw, was a large
globular iron pot, that stood upon spikes, like a carpenter's
pitch-kettle, which pot, at the moment of my entrance, was full of hot,
recently boiled, unskinned, fine mealy praties. Round this there might
have been sitting some twelve or fourteen persons of both sexes, and
various ages, none above five-and-twenty. But it must be remembered,
that the pot was upon the earth, and the earth was the floor, and the
circle was squatted round it. At the fire-place, each on a three-legged
stool, sat an elderly man and woman. These stools the fastidious may
call furniture if they please; but were any of my readers placed upon
one of them, so rough and dirty were they, that he or she must have been
very naughty, did not the stool of repentance prove a more pleasant
resting-place.
Among the squatted circle there were a bandy-legged drummer, and a
blotched-faced fifer, from the adjacent barracks, both in their
regimentals. They rose, and capped to my uniform. We were welcomed
with shouts of congratulations. My boat was brought in, and placed
bottom-up along one side of the hovel, and immediately the keel was
occupied by a legion of poultry, and half a score of pigs, little and
big, were at the same time to be seen dubbing their snouts under the
gunnel, on voyages of alimentary discovery. I was immediately pulled
down between two really handsome lasses in the circle; and, with
something like savage hospitality, had my cheeks stuffed with the
burning potatoes.
Never was there a more hilarious meeting. I and my Tom Thumb of a boat,
and my minikin crew, I could well understand, though my hosts spoke in
their mother tongue, were the subjects of their incessant and
uncontrollable bursts of laughter. But with all this, they were by no
means rude, and showed me that sort of respect that servants do to the
petted child of their master: that is to say, they were inclined to be
very patronising, and very careful of me, in spite of myself; and to
humour me greatly. My two boys, whom I have so often dignified with the
imposing title of my boat's crew, though treated with less or no respect
at all, were welcomed in a manner equally kind.