constellation over Quebec, were just about to leave Canada in that
well-known comfortable liner, the _Nipigon_, when a most annoying
thing happened. The cattle-ship _Abbitibbe_, never famous at any
time for minding her helm, got her steam steering gear jammed as she
was passing the _Nipigon_, and took a wide sheer to port when she
should have altered her course to starboard. The peaceful
preparations of the passenger boat were broken up, and her crew
received the wild charge of the _Abbitibbe_ with curses, which,
though effectual in heating the atmosphere, were no use as a fender.
The _Nipigon_ was cut down to the water's edge, and the scientific
lights of Europe were much put out. They hurried ashore in the most
irregular and unscientific manner, and, having sent others for their
baggage, began to make preparations for going to New York, as no
other good passenger boat was leaving the St. Lawrence for a week.
But Nature, possibly out of revenge for the unseemly curiosity
evinced by all men of science, was beforehand with them.
Misfortunes, as was once observed by an intelligent, if pessimistic,
anthropoid ape, never come singly. It was the twelfth of November,
and a sudden blizzard, bringing all the snow it could carry, broke up
communication with the south. If the men of science were to keep
their appointments with their universities, it was necessary to sail
from Canada at once. They shipped themselves under protest upon the
_Nemagosenda_, of 2,900 tons register, which was little better than a
tramp, and was commanded by Captain Joseph Prowse.
"Immortal Jehoshaphat!" said Captain Prowse; "here's a go! What, we
with passengers? Oh, get out!"
"You've got to take 'em," said the agent philosophically; "maybe
they'll teach you something, and it'll be a good advertisement."
"Gah'n!" said Prowse; "carryin' scientific jossers won't bring better
freight next season. I wish you'd get me chock up with cattle. I
can't stand scientists; my sister married one that was an 'erbalist
in the Old Kent Road--and since he went to chokey I've lost conceit
with science. However, if it must be--why, send 'em along!"
Captain Prowse was not a popular skipper with sailors. They said
that he was a "hard nut" and a "sailor-robber," and that his American
experience had made him nearly as deadly as any American captain with
a belaying-pin. But sailors' experience only works backward: they
are good at reminiscence only, and the _Nemagosenda_ got a crew in
spite of the captain's reputation. It is possible they would not
have shipped if they had known that men of European light and leading
were to come with them. Those who follow the sea have a great
respect for knowledge, but they despise men in soft hats and
spectacles. And it cannot be denied that scientific men are as a
rule too simple and gentle to look as if they could take care of
themselves. According to Jack, that is the first duty of man, though
he premises naturally that even the toughest courage and the greatest
skill may come to grief about women.
"A thunderin' measly lot," said Simpkins A.B. to his particular mate,
when the scientific passengers came on board; "why, they've all soft
'ats but one! And long beards! And three out of four with specs!
Holy sailor, what a gang!"
Harris nodded.
"Why, there's twenty of 'em, Bill, but I'll bet a plug of the best to
an old chew that me and you goin' for 'em with belayin'-pins could do
up the 'ole crowd in five minutes."
"You've sized 'em up," said Simpkins, with a sneer, and then the
captain roared.
"Aye, aye, sir," said the mate. "Let go! All gone, sir! Now then,
haul in." And the _Nemagosenda_ went out into the stream.
It took some three days or so for the men of science to settle down.
For during the first few days the pathology of sea-sickness occupied
all their attention; they had no time for other things. But when
their last all-night session was over, and they were seen again upon
deck, the affairs of the _Nemagosenda_ became interesting. The mate
and the port watch developed long-threatened divergencies, and
Captain Prowse came to the assistance of his chief officer with a
brass belaying-pin. As the result of this the pathologist indulged
in a little practical surgery, and a division arose in the scientific
ranks. The political economist argued with the statistician.
"Statistics prove that the common sailor must be treated with
sternness," said the authority in figures, "and it is our duty to
support authority."
"The captain is a brute," said the political economist, "and for two
pins I would tell him so. You cannot neglect the human factor----"
"Says political economy," sneered the statistician.
And then the geologist, who was a man of sense, said they were both
talking rot. The discussion on the poop was broken up by the
captain, who came on deck with a face like the north-west moon in a
fog. Having demanded the presence of the crew aft, he gave them an
address on their duties to their superiors.
"You think yourselves a fine lot of chaps," said the captain
fiercely, "but my opinion of you is that you are a scaly crowd of
wharf-rats, and all your relations of both sexes are no better than
they should be. So look here, you swine, I'll have you know I'm
Captain Joseph Prowse, and the man that gives any slack jaw to any
officer of mine gives it to me. And the man that gives it to me will
wish he was dead before he sees Liverpool. That's me. I'm Captain
Joseph Prowse, so I am, and any crew under me has got to know it.
I'm king here, and I'll wade in blood before I get off my throne.
Mr. Watts, put this crawling lot to holy stoning the deck!"
And Captain Joseph Prowse rejoined his scientific passengers.
"All crews is the same, gentlemen," he said thickly; "there's
something deep and dark in the nature of things as makes 'em so.
Those that do the rough work on board ships are just so necessarily,
and if I was to ship a crew of angels, though they might be handy for
going aloft, they'd turn devils by the time they'd ate a pound of
beef and biscuit."
"Have you ever tried kindness and persuasion?" asked the
meteorologist.
The captain looked him up and down.
"Ever tried it!" he ejaculated scornfully; "'ave I ever tried
anything else? It's kindness to sailormen to let 'em know who's
boss. Spare the belayin'-pin and the 'andspike and you'll spoil the
sailor. Oh, Solomon know'd his business when he used them words. He
didn't sail to Ophir for nothin'."
"But, Captain Prowse," said the meek gentleman, whose great subject
was cannibalism, "isn't it very unpleasant work rubbing the decks
with stones this cold weather?"
"Unpleasant!" said the skipper, "and what do you think? Was I
proposin' to reward 'em?"
"I suppose not," said the ethnologist, "but I'm sure it's awful work.
I could never do it."
Captain Prowse snorted.
"Oh yes, you could, if you was in my crew," he remarked. "If one of
you gents was captain, you'd find this crowd couldn't do nothing but
sit in the foc'sle and drink 'ot coffee. It's all accordin' where
you are, and what kind of a man's on top."
"In other words, circumstance creates character," said the
statistician.
"That's a ridiculous exaggeration," said the authority on heredity.
"A man is what he is born."
Captain Joseph Prowse laughed scornfully.
"Not he--he's what I makes of him, and if you gents was under me I'd
make you sailors long afore you suspected it. By the way, could you
tell me what branch of science an 'erbalist belongs to?"
And the conversation followed more pleasant lines.
The _Nemagosenda_, although little better than a tramp in her
appearance, could do her ten knots an hour on less than twenty tons
of coal a day, and she soon got out to the Banks, where the men of
science discussed fishing, and the colour of sea-water, and icebergs.
"Yes," said the geologist, "an iceberg swims on an average
seven-eighths below and an eighth above."
"Gammon!" said Captain Prowse rudely; "why, any sailor knows better.
I'm surprised at a scientific josser like you bein' so ignorant.
It's one-third above and two below. You ask my mate if it isn't so."
"Ah, thanks, I will," said the geologist pleasantly. "Mr. Watts is a
well-informed man?"
"Rather," said Prowse, nodding; "there's not a den o' thieves in any
port in Europe he can't find blindfold. And 'e knows more about
icebergs than me, for he once went a trip in a Dundee whaler. He
ain't proud of it, and don't talk of it much, for whalers is no
class, as you may guess. But he's keen on knowledge, is Watts, I'll
say that for him. You might do worse than ask him for some ackerate
information. He's a perfect whale on fogs, too!"
If Mr. Watts was the authority on fogs that his captain made out, he
soon had an opportunity of showing it, for half-way across the Banks
it was impossible to see farther than one could throw half a
hundredweight, and the _Nemagosenda_ went tooting in darkness. But
every now and again in this dim world the men of science were alarmed
and entertained by sudden battles in blasphemy between Captain
Prowse, or the well-informed Mr. Watts, and the crew of a Bank
fisherman. For fog blankets sound in the oddest, most erratic way,
and the throb of a screw cannot always be heard even in the calmest
foggy weather. Such swearing matches between the _Nemagosenda_ and a
smack were, when apparently good for three minutes or so, sometimes
sliced right in two by the sudden dropping down of what the
meteorologist called an "anacoustic" wall of fog. Like the last
words of Don Whiskerandos in _A Tragedy Rehearsed_, a speech was cut
off in the very flower of its youth.
"Where the blue blinding blazes are you coming to?" asked a faint
nocturne. And when Captain Prowse had expended his last carefully
prepared oration, the right of maritime reply only conferred an
audible "Oh, you dog----"
"We have to thank the anacoustic properties of that fog-bank for the
sudden conclusion," said the meteorologist, "for if I'm any judge of
human nature, that smacksman is still firing red-hot words into
space."
"Yes, sir," said Prowse indignantly, "they're a foul-mouthed lot.
It's as much as I can do to keep even with 'em. But I'll slow down
no more."
He telegraphed "Full speed ahead" and left Mr. Watts with awfully
worded instructions to sink anything, from a battleship to the
meanest brig afloat. In the saloon he sat at the head of the table,
and drank rum hot.
"Science proves that rum 'ot is the sailor's drink," said Captain
Prowse, "and the correct drink. For we all drink it, and flourish on
it. And the reason is that it goes by contraries. It's cold work
bein' at sea, and so we takes it 'ot; and the sea is salt, so we
takes it sweet: and it comes from the West Indies."
"And that proves it," said the geologist warmly. "What a head you
have, Captain Prowse!"
The skipper nodded.
"You may well say so," he affirmed; "a phrenologist gave me a chart
of my 'ead once, a scientific chart with the soundings wrote out
plain, and what proved him right was his sayin' that 'ere and there I
was too deep for him. And I paid him a guinea. Well worth it, it
was, for he said, 'You get married,' and I done so, and Mrs. Prowse
hasn't her living equal. I wish I'd brought that chart with me. It
would 'ave interested you gents to know what a brother scientist
thought of me."
"It would indeed," said the pathologist.
"But there, I'll tell you what I am," said Prowse, "I'm a
down-righter, that's me. I'm captain of my boat, I am, and if I was
afloat on a hencoop with all its crew I'd like to see the cock as
would crow before I gave him orders. Authority comes nat'ral to me.
I'll be boss wherever I am--(Hancocks, more rum!)--and I would have
succeeded in whatsoever I took hold of. Phrenology told me so, wrote
out plain. And I've a kind of leanin' towards science ever since
that phrenologist put 'is 'and on my 'ead and said with a start of
surprise, 'Captain, you're a wonder.' But I've always wondered what
it was made scientific chaps look so 'elpless.--(Hancocks, more
rum.)--But don't you fret, gents; I'm Captain Joseph Prowse, and I'll
put you safe ashore, or die in the attempt."
And as he again ejaculated "Hancocks, more rum," he fell asleep upon
the table.
"Gentlemen," said the geologist, "as our interests are now secure, I
vote we go to bed."
But it was still a heavy fog, and the _Nemagosenda_ was doing her ten
knots an hour. Other steamers were doing the same, or even more.
Some twenty-knot liners slowed down (in order that they might say
that they had slowed down) to about nineteen knots and a half; and
some, acting on the theory that the sooner they went through the
fog-belt, the better for every one, gave their engines all the steam
they could make, and stepped out for America or England at the pace
of an indolent torpedo-boat. And the result of this was that at
about four bells in the middle watch, when the mate's aching eyes
could see forty imaginary steamers where there were none, he omitted
to observe that there was a real one coming for him till it was too
late. The _Nemagosenda_ uttered one long horrid wail, which was
answered in vain, and the next minute the men of science were shot
out of their bunks, and their steamer was taking in the Atlantic
through a hole about the size of a dock gate.
What became of the lucky, or unlucky, boat, which got her blow in
first, the crew of the sinking steamer did not inquire. They heard
her toot in the distance, and in answer they blew their whistle for
help. But though a whistle in a fog may be evidence of good faith,
it is not necessarily for wide publication, and it is quite possible
that the stranger, if she did not sink, lost her bearings in the fog,
and went off in the wrong direction. At any rate the crew and
passengers of the _Nemagosenda_ found themselves adrift in three
boats, and in less than a quarter of an hour they heard, though they
could not see, their steamer blow her deck out and disappear.
"All up with the _Goose-ender_," said the crew sulkily, "and now of
course it will blow."
As ill-luck and hurry would have it, in the last rush for life most
of the crew had tumbled into the mate's and second mate's boats.
With the lights of science were the captain and Simpkins, A.B.
"Immortal Jehoshaphat!" said Mr. Joseph Prowse, "this is a pretty
state of affairs. That man-drowning swine of a liner! I 'ope she's
gone down! I hope the codfish are sizing her captain up, and sayin'
what they think of him. Simpkins, keep holloaing! Where's them
other boats?"
"I can't holler no more, sir," whispered Simpkins hoarsely, "my
throat's give out."
And as the wind rose the three boats drifted apart. Four eminent
scientific persons at the oars kept their boat head on to sea, and
six other eminent persons lay on the bottom boards and wished they
were dead, until the dawn crawled into the east and showed them that
they were alone.
It was a chill and watery dawn, and as the boat topped the cold green
waves on the edge of the Bank the prospect was eminently unkind. The
wind was not heavy, but it blew hard enough to bring the spray of
each curling wave inboard, and every one was soaked to the skin. The
sky was lowering and overcast, and though the fog was dissipated, a
mist covered the sun till it looked, as Simpkins remarked, about as
warm as a new tin plate.
It must be said for Captain Joseph Prowse that he retained in some
measure those characteristics of authority which he claimed for
himself, and by a forced optimism, which the nature of his crew made
him adopt, he endeavoured to cheer them up.
"My luck's temporary out," he declared, with some show of
cheerfulness, "but it ain't the first time I've been run down, and
with God's 'elp, gents, it won't be the last. And it's clean against
the nature of things for so many learn'd men to come to grief at one
fell blow. 'Ere or there a scientific josser may come to grief in a
crowd, but so many bein' together is the best of insurances. I'll
pull you through; you mind me. All I ask you to remember is that I'm
captain, and what I says goes now and always."
"It's all very well," said the meteorologist, whose temper was going
with the skin of his hands, "but we all thought you had no right to
run so fast in a fog."
Captain Prowse gasped, and then recovered himself.
"Didn't I tell you I was captain here, same as on the steamer?"
"You did," said the sulky man of science.
"Then hold your jaw," said Captain Prowse; "when you, or the likes of
you, is asked for criticism, it'll be time for you to give it. Till
then you'll give your captain no lectures on the running of his
vessel. God and the Queen's enemies 'as sunk my ship, but neither
one nor the other has took away my natural gift of authority, so shut
up!"
And though the meteorologist choked with rage, he said no more.
Simpkins and the captain consulted.
"We're right in the track of steamers more or less," said Captain
Prowse, "and it bein' so damp we can hang out without much drink for
a day or so. And biscuit we 'ave plenty."
Simpkins nodded.
"Yes, sir, but this 'ere's a sulky useless lot, sir."
"So they are," said Prowse, "but they'll 'ave to shape themselves as
I bid 'em. The first crooked word and there'll be a man of science
missing out of this bright gal-acksy of talent. I don't care where I
am, but there I'll be captain. I don't care if they was my owners,
I'd run 'em all the same. They ain't passengers no more, they're my
crew."
He took a drink out of a flask and sank back in the stern-sheets.
"I want you men to keep your eyes skinned," he said presently.
"Which of you is the astronomer?"
"I am," answered the bow oar, who was a long, thin man, in a
wideawake and spectacles.
"Then keep a bright look-out or you'll see stars," said Prowse. "And
while I'm on it, I want you jossers to know that you ain't passengers
no more, but a boat's crew, and my boat's crew, and you'll have to
look lively when I sing out. So the sooner we get a bit farther
south the better it will be. That will do."
And muttering that he meant being captain whether he was on an
ice-floe or a mud-barge, he fell asleep and snored.
"This brute is coming out in his true colours," said the astronomer.
"What did he mean by saying I should see stars?"
"Begging your pardon, sir," said Simpkins, "he meant he'd plug you."
"Plug me?"
"Bung your eye up," explained Simpkins, "and Lor' bless you, he'd do
it. Oh, a rare chap is the captain; why, some years half his money
goes in fines."
"I wish to heaven I was ashore," said the poor astronomer, "and when
I get there I'll see he never gets another job."
Simpkins eyed the sleeping skipper in alarm.
"Best not let him 'ear you, matey," he cried. "He'd haze you to
death."
"Haze me?"
"Work you up," explained the seaman.
"What's that?"
"And I thot you was all learn'd!" said Simpkins, with great contempt.
"I mean he'd just sock it to you till you was fair broke up."
The day passed without any incident of vital importance. It is true
they sighted the smoke of a steamer hull down on the southern
horizon, but they saw nothing else across the waste of heaving water.
Every now and again the captain woke up and made a few remarks on the
nature of authority, and what he proposed doing to those who did not
"knuckle under." But the night fell without any signs of mutiny on
the part of the scientific crew.
In the very early dawn the astronomer, who had slept in uneasy
snatches, woke up for the tenth time and changed his position.
Simpkins and the geologist were keeping the boat before the sea,
which was running south-east, and they were both half-blind with
fatigue.
"I believe I see something out there," said the astronomer feebly.
"You are always seein' suthin'," said Simpkins crossly, but as he
spoke he looked round and almost dropped his oar.
"Wake up, captain!" he shouted. "Here's a barque almost so near we
could touch her."
The skipper roused up, and with him the rest. They jumped to their
feet.
"Sit down, sit down, you gang of idiots," said the captain; "d'ye
want to capsize us?"
"Oh, we are saved, we are saved!" said the ethnologist, for within
half a mile of them a vessel lay with her main-topsail aback. There
was nothing odd about her to the uneducated eye, but the skipper
looked at Simpkins, and Simpkins looked at the skipper.
"Derelict," said both.
For with such a light breeze it was absurd to see a barque with
nothing set but a close reefed main-topsail, and a fore-topmast
staysail hanging in hanks like a wet duster.
"She has seen us," said the geologist.
"Seen your grandmother," said the skipper rudely. "There ain't a
soul aboard her, and she's water-logged and loaded with lumber out of
Halifax, and she's a northerner, and about six hundred tons register.
Get the oars out. If her decks are awash, she'll be better than this
boat."
By the time they came within a cable's length of her, it was broad
daylight, and the least maritime member of any European scientific
society was able to form an opinion as to her being derelict. As she
rolled, the water came out of her scuppers, for her main-deck was
almost level with the sea. Part of the gear was let go, and most of
the yards were chafing through their parrals, the main-top-gallant
yard, indeed, was only hanging by the tie and the lifts, and came
crash against the mast every time the sea lifted the vessel's bows.
Half the bulwarks were gone, and the remains of the displaced deck
cargo showed through the gaps. As they got up to her she went right
aback and came round slowly on her heel.
"Row up close, sir," said Simpkins, "and I'll jump."
"No," said Captain Prowse, "not with this lot. I wouldn't go near
her with a crew of misfits like these, not for money. We'll go a bit
closer, and you must swim."
And in ten minutes Simpkins was on board. He threw the end of a vang
across the boat, and they brought her astern.
"Thank Heaven," said the men of science as they trod the slippery
decks of the _Kamma Funder_, belonging to Copenhagen.
But their troubles were only just beginning.
The skipper walked aft on the slippery deck, and climbed upon the
poop by way of the rail, for some of the loose lumber had dislodged
and smashed the poop ladder. When he found his foot upon his native
heath, he was once more Captain Joseph Prowse in all his glory; and
turning about, he addressed his crew.
"Simpkins," he said, "you are chief officer, second officer and
bo'son, and don't you forget it. As for you others, I'll have you
know that you're the crew. Just drop any kind of heightened notion
that you are passengers, and we'll get along easy; but if you don't,
look out for squalls. Simpkins, turn this useless lot to throwin'
the remains of the deck cargo overboard, and try a couple of 'em at
the pumps; maybe her seams may have closed up again by now." And
going aft to the scuttle, he disappeared from view.
"Well," said the geologist, "of all the infernal----"
"Oh, stow that," cried Simpkins, "and turn to. You're here, ain't
you, and lucky you should consider yourself. And the captain's a man
of his word, as I know; so look slippy and pass this bloomin' truck
over the side."
The miserable crew looked at each other in despair.
"Come now," said Simpkins impatiently, "do you want me to report you
chaps as refusin' duty?"
The geologist, who was the youngest and sturdiest man in the crowd,
said that he did; but the astronomer and the entomologist
remonstrated with him.
"I think we'd better," said the unhappy insect man. "This Prowse
seems a regular brute."
"He is," said the astronomer, "and I pray to Heaven that he doesn't
find any rum on board."
But Heaven did not listen, and the captain presently came on deck
with a flushed face.
"Simpkins," roared Prowse, as his head appeared over the edge of the
scuttle.
"Yes, sir," said the new mate.
"Is that lumber over the side yet?"
"Quick, for Gawd's sake," said Simpkins, and the reluctant men of
science commenced sliding the boards over.
"It's going, sir," answered Simpkins.
"Goin'!" said Prowse, when he got his hands on the after poop rail.
"Goin'! I should say so! What a crowd! Oh, you miserable things,
I'll shape you; I'll get you into condition; I'll make sailors of
you. Get two of these hoosiers on to the pumps and see if she's
leakin' very bad, and then we'll make sail. This 'ere _Kamma Funder_
won't make a quick passage, but by the time we're picked up, or sail
'er 'ome, I'll make you chaps fit to ship in the worst Cape Horner
that ever sailed."
He turned away, but stopped.
"And when the deck's clear, Simpkins, you can let 'em eat what they
can get. There's plenty of biscuit, but mighty little else. Now
then, you Stars, pump!"