At Eight Bells, or four o'clock in the ordinary parlance of landsmen,
Mr Bitpin was relieved by the first lieutenant, who then came on deck
with the rest of the starboard watch to take charge, while the port
watch went below at the same time.
This hour marked the beginning of the first dog watch, which, it may be
here mentioned for the benefit of the uninitiated, only lasts two hours,
from four o'clock to six, when the second dog watch, of similar
duration, commences and continues until eight o'clock, or "Eight Bells,"
again.
These subdivisions of time are necessary on board ship in order to allow
all to share alike the rough with the smooth, and give the officers and
men a change at regular intervals from day to night service, and the
reverse; for, if all the watches were of equal length, there could not
be any possible variation of the hours during which the hands would be
on and off duty respectively, the one section of the crew in such case
coming on deck at precisely the same time each day and going below in
similar rotation.
By the system in vogue, however, of cutting one of the watches into two
parts, which is common to the seamen of all countries in the mercantile
marine and is not merely limited to the routine of our men-of-war, there
is a constant change introduced; so that, the men who take, say, the
first watch to-night, from eight o'clock till midnight, will have the
middle watch to-morrow night, and so on in regular sequence until the
time comes round again for them to "return to their old love" again!
"Glass-eye," as the men called the first lieutenant, I noticed, was a
much smarter hand than Mr Bitpin, in spite of his drawly way of
speaking and lackadaisical airs below; and when he was officer of the
watch there was no lolling about the deck or any of the talking that
went on behind the boats and in odd corners, as was the case while "old
growler" had charge.
Everyone then, on the contrary, brightened up and kept to his station;
while even the old quartermaster and helmsman drawing themselves up at
"attention" as soon as the Honourable Digby Lanyard's long, telescopic
form appeared on the poop, just as if he were the commander, or Captain
Farmer himself.
The Honourable was not long inactive, for the sun was already beginning
to sink below the western horizon, lighting up Saint Alban's Head,
abreast of which we were now speeding along, with a bright glare that
displayed every detail of its steep escarpment and the rocky foreshore
at its base; the glorious orb of day presently disappearing beneath the
ocean, leaving a track of radiance behind him across the watery waste
and flooding the heavens overhead with a harmony of vivid colouring in
which every tint of the rainbow was represented--crimson and purple and
gold, melting into rose, that paled again into the most delicate sea--
green and finally became merged in the more neutral tones of night!
"Looks like a change coming, I think," observed Mr Quadrant, the
master, glancing at the sunset more with the eye of a meteorologist than
that of an artist. "Those northerly winds never last long in the
Channel, especially at this time of year."
"The evening's closing in, too," said the "first luff," screwing his
eyeglass more tightly into the corner of his eye and bending his lanky
body over the poop-rail to see if everything was all right on the deck
below, after taking a hurried squint aloft. "I shall shorten sail at
once. Bosun's mate!"
You should have heard him roar out this hail. Why, it made me jump off
my feet as if a cannon had been fired, with a full charge, close to my
head!
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the boatswain's mate, coming under the break of
the poop, so as to be nearer at hand; but there was certainly no
necessity for his approaching in order to hear better, for the
lieutenant's voice would have been audible a mile off, "I'm here, sir."
"Pipe the watch to shorten sail!"
"Ay, ay, sir."
There was no need, though, of pipe or shout from the worthy petty
officer addressed, notwithstanding that the lusty seaman could have
piped and shouted with the best, should duty demand it of him; for, the
lieutenant's order had already reached the ears of every man of the
watch, and all were at their several stations, ready for the next
command.
This was not long-delayed.
"Topmen aloft! In royals and to'gallant stu'ns'ls!" he bellowed, in a
tone that put that of poor Mr Bitpin completely into the shade; his
voice sounding as if the wild bull which that gentleman had apparently
imitated, according to the facetious Larkyns, had since been under the
instruction of Signor Lablache or some other distinguished bass singer
and had learnt to mellow his roar into a deeper tone. No sooner, too,
had the hands jumped into the rigging and the studdingsail halliards and
tacks been cast off by the watch on deck and the downhauls and sheets
manned, than the "first luff," pitching his voice to yet a higher key,
sang out in rapid sequence, "Topmast stu'ns'l downhaul--haul taut--clew
up--all down!"
"Bosun's mate," he then cried, "turn the hands up!"
This was the last order he gave on his own responsibility; for, while
the men of the watch below were hurrying up on deck in obedience to the
busy boatswain's mates' whistle and shout of "all ha-a-nds," which could
still be heard ringing through the ship, Commander Nesbitt came up on
the poop and took charge.
He thus superseded his subordinate, the lieutenant; it being the custom
of the service for the commander to "carry on" on such occasions and the
officer of the watch, whoever he might be, to "play second fiddle," as
the saying goes, which part the "first luff," took in the present
instance, proceeding at once to his proper station on the forecastle.
No cessation occurred, however, in the task of shortening sail.
"Hands reef tops'ls!" shouted the commander almost on the instant he
gained the poop, following this up by the command, "Topmen aloft--take
in one reef--way aloft!"
Of course Adams and Larkyns and Popplethorne had to scramble up to their
posts in the mizzen and main and foretops, much to my admiration and
envy; for, being only a cadet, I was not allowed to go aloft except for
drill, and then only under special supervision, as I will presently
tell.
While these lucky beggars, as I then thought them, were footing it up
the ratlines, the commander sang out in rapid rotation, the orders
necessary to make the way clear for taking in the reef required--
"Weather topsail braces--round in--lower the tops'ls!"
"Trice up and lay out!"
By these being acted on, the wind was first "spilled" out of the three
topsails, which were then lowered on the caps; and, the studdingsail
booms being triced up to their usual place when not set, in the topmost
rigging, the men were able to go out on the yards and commence reefing
in earnest.
On the completion of this, the command was given to hoist away;
whereupon the halliards were manned below and the topsails run up again.
"Trim sails!" sang out Commander Nesbitt as soon as he saw the middies
and their men coming down from aloft. "Lee braces--brace up the yards!"
During all this time, though, the wind had been shifting to the westward
and ahead; and, noticing the jib beginning to shiver and flap, the
commander came to the fore again.
"Brace the mainyard sharp up!" he shouted; when, on the seamen at the
bitts reporting that "the mark" was "down," or, in other words, that the
yard had been braced up as far as it would go, the other yards were
trimmed parallel and the active commander cried, "Belay the main brace!"
"By jingo, I think he might say `splice the main brace' now, after all
this jollification!" growled Mr Stormcock, who had come up on the
quarter-deck while the ship was thus being made snug for the night and
left now under easy sail, consisting of the courses with reefed topsails
and topgallants, as well as the jib and spanker and foretopmast
staysail. "The poor fellows must be precious dry with all that cutting
about up and down the ratlines, and I wouldn't mind a glass of grog
myself."
"No, really, you don't mean that!" said Larkyns chaffingly. "Wouldn't
you prefer a cup of tea, now?"
"Cup of tea be hanged!" rejoined the master's mate, angrily. "You
youngsters of the present day are always thinking of your tea, like a
lot of blessed old women! In my time, fellows at sea didn't go in for
slops and mollycoddling, as all of you do now. By jingo, the gunroom
might as well be turned into a nursery at once, with such a pack of
children about!"
"At all events, we'd never be at a loss for a nurse, old chappie, with
you aboard," said Larkyns, sniggering. "Indeed, you'd make even a
better one than we could get ashore."
"Hey!" exclaimed Mr Stormcock, a bit puzzled at this. "What do you
mean?"
"I don't mean a dry nurse, you know, old chappie, though you said, you
were `dry' just now," replied Larkyns, laughing at his own joke. "Nor
do I mean a wet 'un. No, old chappie, I mean a wetter-un, do you twig?"
"Phaugh!" ejaculated the master's mate, with a gesture of disgust, as he
turned towards the binnacle to take the course the ship was steering, so
as to lay it off on his chart and estimate the distance run and our
probable position by dead reckoning. "A beastly pun like that is enough
a make a fellow sick!"
"All right, old chappie, I'd better get out of your way, if that's the
case," rejoined Larkyns, chuckling. "I'll go below and finish my tea,
which I would certainly not have left behind me, with you about, had it
been grog!"
With which parting shot at what was generally believed to be Mr
Stormcock's particular weakness, and one which had delayed his
promotion, Larkyns hopped down the after-hatchway on his way to the
gunroom, I following after him, nothing loth to have some little
refreshment after my long stay on deck, this having made me hungry
again.
Things were pretty quiet below, I found, most of the noisier spirits of
the mess having eaten their fill and departed; and, fortunately, the
gunroom steward had not forgotten us late-comers, there being plenty of
the "water-bewitched" sort of beverage that goes by the name of "tea" on
board ship, albeit we had to be content with an extra allowance of sugar
in lieu of milk.
To make up for this, however, the good-natured Dobbs had thoughtfully
reserved for the delectation of Larkyns and myself a fragment of some
very stale cake, which, from the important air he assumed when
presenting it to our astonished gaze, he evidently considered a great
treat; and, I was really sorry at Larkyns making some unkind remark or
other about Noah and the Ark in connection with this venerable dainty
that, I'm sure, must have hurt the feelings of the steward, who meant to
do us a kindness, no doubt, and, at all events, did his best!
At Four Bells, or six o'clock, I went on deck again with Mr Jellaby and
the port watch, remaining on duty until the end of the second dog watch.
By that time, we were passing the Bill of Portland, sailing close-hauled
still down Channel on the starboard tack; but, I was so tired out that I
could hardly keep my eyes open, only knowing what the quartermaster
kindly told me, so on getting below again soon after Eight Bells, I
turned into my hammock without troubling much at undressing, and was "as
fast as a top" within less than a minute of reaching the steerage.
Next morning, on awakening, I was much surprised at everything being
very quiet between decks, without any motion of the ship or rush of the
water past her sides, and I wondered what had happened to cause this
stillness.
On turning out, however, my wonder was soon allayed by discovering that
we had made Plymouth during the small hours, and were now anchored in
the Sound, midway between Mount Edgecombe and the breakwater.
I may add, that the mess table in the gunroom at breakfast clearly
demonstrated our proximity to this very hospitable port, by the lavish
abundance of milk and eggs, not to speak of bloaters and marmalade, so
that even Tom Mills was satisfied.
He did not have the heart to take another rise out of the irascible
caterer, Mr Stormcock; while, as for Plumper, the senior mate, I never
saw a chap eat in my life as he did.
An ostrich of the most enterprising digestion, or the boa-constrictor at
the Zoological Gardens who recently swallowed its messmate in a weak
moment, would neither of them have been a match for the fat little
gourmand, who made even Dobbs stare at his efforts in the knife-and-fork
line.
We stopped at Plymouth for some four-and-twenty hours, shipping
supernumeraries and taking in surplus stores.
After which, weighing anchor again, we worked out of the Sound, having
to tack twice before clearing the breakwater; and, resuming our passage
we passed the Lizard the same afternoon, being some ten or twelve miles
to the southward of the Bishop's Rock in the Scilly Isles at midnight.
I noticed the bright, star-like light of the latter, low down on the
horizon, away on our weather quarter, only just dimly discernible in the
distance through the haze, when I came on deck for the middle watch, the
lighthouse looking to me as if twinkling to us a last farewell from home
and the land we had left, never, perhaps, to see again.
But, although we made fair enough progress, we were not able to preserve
as straight a course as Captain Farmer and the master would have liked
to have done.
The wind was continually on the shift and trying to head us, thus
causing us to keep the ship away and steer more to the southward;
instead of making all the westering we could when leaving the channel,
so as to give Cape Ushant, with its erratic currents and treacherous
indraught, as wide a berth as possible--the French coast being a bad
lookout under one's lee at any time!
However, we had to make the best we could of the wind we had; and by
noon next day, when Mr Quadrant took the sun, having all of us round
him on the poop, cadets as well as midshipmen, on the alert to watch for
the dip and mark off the angle on our sextants, we were found to be in
latitude 48 degrees 50 minutes North, and longitude 7 degrees 35 minutes
West, showing that we had run some two hundred miles or so since leaving
Plymouth Sound.
After observing the sun's altitude, we were supposed to work out the
reckoning for ourselves independently of each other; though, when the
master sent us down to the gunroom to do this, the lazy hands amongst
us, who were by a long way in the majority, cribbed from those who were
readier at figures, like Larkyns and Ned Anstruther, both of whom
arrived at the same result as Mr Quadrant, ay even in a shorter time,
handing in their papers for inspection before I had well-nigh begun
mine.
"Here, Vernon, take my log and copy it out," cried Larkyns, seeing me
somewhat puzzled over the calculations I was making by the aid of a fat
volume of logarithm tables and Roper's "Navigator"; "you look
considerably fogged, old chappie, by the cut of your jib."
"No thank you," I replied, all on my mettle, determined not to be beat.
"I want to try and make it out by myself, so that I shall know how to do
it next time."
"Bravo, youngster," put in Mr Stormcock. "That's the only way to
become a good navigator. Fudging your reckoning will never teach you
how to work out your altitudes; you stick to it, my boy, and do it on
your own hook."
Nor did the master's mate content himself with merely giving me this
sound advice; for, sitting down by my side, he overhauled my figures
and, being an expert mathematician, soon put me in the right road to
arriving at a solution of my difficulties.
Really, he explained the various steps necessary in order to work out
the reckoning in such a simple way that I understood it thoroughly;
learning more in this one lesson from Mr Stormcock than I had done, I
think, during the three months that I had studied navigation while on
board the training-ship _Illustrious_.