A GREAT FIGHT
That was a dramatic moment for at least four people, Frank being within
close distance. The ship, feeling the enormous pressure of a mighty
sea against one side of her rudder, swung up to meet the wind, and the
strain upon the wheel was so great that the man steering could not move
it. The two men who should have been most fully alive to the danger
stood glaring at one another, while the lives of all on board trembled
in the balance. But by some impulse which he did not understand, Frank
flew to the helmsman’s aid, flung all his weight upon the lee side of
the wheel, and between them they got the helm up, only just in time
to save the ship from broaching to. She gave one mighty swerve as if
suspended in some huge sling, with such rapidity that for all their
seasoned sea-legs the two officers were flung off their feet and rolled
helplessly on deck. At the same moment a massy hill of water, the glare
of whose foaming crest lit up the whole stormy scene, burst over the
whole length of the starboard side, filling the decks fore and aft,
and smashing everything in its way which was not of the most permanent
character.
Both the skipper and the mate, apparently forgetting their quarrel
in the face of this terrible common danger, as soon as they regained
their feet rushed forward and took their part in the work of saving as
much as possible of the floating wreckage of the deck from destruction.
Frank and Hansen, for it was he who was helmsman, strove manfully to
keep the maddened vessel on her course, feeling sure that it was their
only hope of life, and yet unable to realise that they would be able to
do so. It was then that Frank knew the dignity of the sailor’s calling,
as never afterwards. It was great to feel the power of command over the
great fabric beneath him, to know her obedience to the helm, and to
understand the movements of the wind and sea which were being compelled
to serve him.
On the main deck there was a scene of ruin. A large portion of the
bulwarks was gone, the spare spars on either side were loose in their
lashings and threatening to break adrift altogether, while various
portions of wreckage were floating and dashing from side to side of
the flooded decks. The cabin was gutted, the deck-house had one side
smashed in, and all hands were in doubt as to what extent the ship had
been damaged.
Moreover the ends of the gear had been washed into all sorts of
entanglements, so that shortening sail for the time was impossible,
at least until halyards, sheets, clewlines, and downhauls had been
cleared. And to add to the difficulty, there was the all-embracing
blackness and the surging of the waves over the ship.
At such times as these sailors live only by permission or sufferance
of the elements, for in her then helpless condition the slightest
addition to the weight of the sea crashing aboard, or the force of
the wind, would most probably have rendered all seamanship or courage
of no avail. But mercifully the good sails held, the staunch masts,
rigging, and running gear bore the tremendous strain, and the two brave
fellows at the wheel kept her directly before the wind and sea. It was
piercingly cold, and their long spell was so arduous that they felt as
if they would have given anything for a few minutes’ rest, while, in
addition, there was the appalling uncertainty as to what damage had
really been done by that mighty sea.
But they endured as sailors do, until, just as the grey, cheerless dawn
began to break, they saw a figure come creeping aft, water streaming
from him as if he had just been overboard. It was the second mate, who
said as he reached the binnacle, “Well, boys, I suppose you’re most
done up, but you’ve had the best of it up here after all. Its nearly
four bells in my watch, but you’ll have to hang on a bit longer till
Jem gets a drop of coffee and comes to relieve you. ’She steerin’ any
easier?”
Hansen replied, “She ain’t safe mit von hant, sir. She gripes efery
now and den like de deffil. I nefer ben able to steer her at all if it
ain’t ben for Frank here, goot boy.”
“All right,” rejoined Mr. Cope, “I’ll see that there’s a stand-by at
the relief, and, say, Frank, you’ll have to go into my bunk, your place
is just washed out.”
All Frank could say was “Thanks, sir,” for he had almost arrived at
that point when nothing makes any difference, the mercy point I call
it. Only the higher the intelligence and sense of responsibility, the
longer it takes to reach the point when nothing matters. It is this
which softens the terrors of most of the awful situations in which men
are placed, when the fear of death, natural to all of us, has taken its
proper place, and there only remains a sort of dim compulsion to go on
doing our duty.
When Frank was relieved and made his way forrard, he found, to his
amazement, that he hardly knew the ship, the damage done was so great.
But his own particular corner was not so bad as the second mate had led
him to believe. True, the side of the house was smashed in, and the
sea had evidently made a clean breach through, but it had not washed
his bunk out, nor torn his chest from its lashings. And so after a
pannikin of steaming coffee and a couple of handfuls of broken biscuits
he turned in just as he was, and in a few minutes was fast asleep and
perfectly happy.
He was aroused next minute, as it seemed, by Williams, who assailed him
with bad words for being so hard to wake. Realising that it was seven
bells and breakfast-time, he sat up, wrenching himself from sleep with
all the reluctance of healthy youth that has been over-tired and has
not had nearly sufficient time for rest. But as he awoke fully to the
fact of Williams’s abuse, he felt an accession of sudden rage, all the
man awoke in him, and springing out of his bunk he seized the fellow
by the head and throat, and with one tremendous effort dashed him out
of the wide-open door on to the flooded deck.
Then in a voice that almost startled himself he shouted, “No more
of that from you or anybody else in this ship. I can do my work,
and I won’t be bullied. I’ll die first.” Then turning away from the
thoroughly discomfited Williams, who, dripping with his ducking,
dragged himself to his feet and slunk away, he seized Johnson by the
shoulder and said roughly, “Here, Johnson, seven bells. Go and get
breakfast, and look sharp about it. You know it’s your turn, so no
skulking.”
Johnson hoisted himself out growling under his breath, but he did not
refuse, for even he recognised a new note in Frank’s voice, and knew
that the boy had found his manhood.
Now I do not wish to give the idea that either Williams or Johnson
were no good, because they were very fair specimens of stalwart boys
in their second year at sea, and could do their work fairly well, but
they had no ideals, they had lost them early, while Frank seemed as if
he were not only going to keep his, but was increasing their number by
adding thereto real knowledge of the facts of a sea-life. This, coupled
with his fine bodily strength, made him already as useful as either of
them, and more reliable than either.
Poor little Harry, on the other hand, had only developed the cunning
of the weakling, and gave the second mate no end of trouble hunting
him out of holes and corners where he would hide himself at night. And
so he had been let pretty much alone, as it was more trouble than it
was worth to get him to work at all. At the present severe time he was
suffering very much, he was just a picture of abject misery without
a dry rag to his back or a warm corner to snuggle into, and bitterly
indeed did he repent his folly in wanting to go to sea.
Meanwhile matters on deck were very bad. Apart from the damage done by
the sea, there was constant friction between the mate and the skipper,
quarrels in front of the men, and every hindrance possible put in the
mate’s way, while worst of all he was prevented by the skipper from
working the ship’s position, and in consequence knew no more where she
was than did any of the sailors. These latter, too, were as usual quick
to seize the advantage they had in the disagreement of the officers,
and so did nothing without a great amount of grumbling and swearing;
in fact discipline was almost at an end, although there was no actual
outbreak as yet. Which of course made things all the worse for the
boys, who were kept at work of the hardest, doing those duties which in
a properly regulated ship would have been performed by the men.
Fortunately the wind held steady if strong, and none of the sails blew
away. So that beyond occasionally repairing the bending of a sail or
securing some of the “Irish pendants” (flying ends) aloft, there was
little to do of necessity, and what there was done fell to the boys,
even to scrubbing off from the decks, incessantly washed by the sea,
the slimy sea-grass that grew thereon.
At last matters grew so bad that one of the men, a huge German named
Müller, who was in the mate’s watch, upon being ordered by the mate
to go aloft and secure a chafing-mat upon the main-topmast back-stay,
refused most insolently, saying that he didn’t intend to do anything
more while he was aboard than steer and take his look-out. “Let de boys
do it,” he said, “or ellas do it yorselluf.”
The mate flushed and clenched his fist, but he would probably have
swallowed the insult if it had not been for the skipper’s mocking
laugh just behind him, one of those devilish inspirations that have
been the cause of so many murders. It decided the mate, who sprang
at Müller’s throat, and the pair came heavily to the deck. Almost as
if by preconcerted signal the watch below rushed out, it being nine
in the morning, and flung themselves at the pair, evidently intent
on murdering the mate. But the three boys with one impulse hurled
themselves into the fray, fighting like wild cats, not that they loved
the mate, but because their instincts were on the side of law and order.
There was a very pretty scrum for a few minutes, the old man looking on
from the poop with an amused air as if he were enjoying himself, until
the second mate, who had been busy in his cabin, rushed to the rescue,
armed with an iron belaying-pin, and almost immediately settled the
business by giving the foreigners some reminders of authority that they
did not forget in a long while.
Helping the mate to rise, and finding that although considerably
pumped, he was not hurt, the big German having only clawed at him like
an old woman, the second mate roared, “Get forrard, you curs, or I’ll
shoot some of you,” producing at the same moment a revolver from his
jacket pocket.
He did not have to speak twice, the motley crowd recognised their
master, and hustled forrard out of his way on the instant.
Then turning to the mate he said, “Hope you’re all right, Mr. Jenkins,
those brutes didn’t seem to do much but fumble.”
“Yes, thanks, Cope,” growled the mate, “I’m all right enough; but I’ve
got a score to settle with one man that won’t wait any longer, and if
it costs me my life I’m going to put it through now.”
And at the word he rushed up the poop-ladder and straight at the
grinning skipper, who, unable to get away, put up both arms to guard
his head and cowered before the mate’s mad rush at him. With a blow
like a blacksmith’s the mate’s fist smashed through his feeble guard
and brought him to his knees, then another crashing punch flattened
his purple nose, from which a stream of dark blood spirted over his
straggly beard. Again that vengeful fist was raised, but it did not
fall, for the second mate and the three boys had by this time reached
the furious mate, and clinging to him, implored him to desist. While
they held him the crestfallen skipper crawled away below, and gradually
Mr. Jenkins calmed down, only expressing the fervent hope that he
had put a mark on his commanding officer that he would carry to his
dishonoured grave.
“I’m all right now, Cope,” he said in almost jubilant tones, “and from
this out I’ll run this ship on different lines, I’ll swear. Just a
minute,” he continued, and he dived below, returning with a revolver in
his hand and brandishing a fistful of cartridges.
“Now,” he said, as he loaded the weapon, “we’ll have a change. Go
below, Mr. Cope, and thank you for your help. I think I can manage now.
Lay aft the watch!”
The last words, uttered in a tremendous voice, brought the four members
of his watch along in a hurry, the first one being Müller. As they came
up to the break of the poop, the mate looking down upon them with the
utmost scorn, said, “Get the slush-pots and lay aloft an’ grease down,
you dirty scum. I’ll show you who’s boss of this packet. You’ll do what
you like, will you? Think the skipper’ll back y’ up, do ye? I’ll look
out for all of ye and get plenty of sleep, and if one of you so much as
whimpers, d’ye see this?” brandishing the revolver, “I’ll shoot ye as
soon as wink.”
A tremendous change had come over the man once he had freed himself
from the fear of losing his certificate, which so often makes cowards
of the best of seamen under a worthless master. He was now a savage
bully, and woe betide the man who crossed him.
Within ten minutes the thoroughly cowed men were strung aloft busily
slushing down the masts, while Frank and Johnson were finding
something to do, and chuckling to themselves at the turn which affairs
had taken, for they had long been disgusted at the way in which all the
dirty work had been put on them while the men were just loafing about.
But Mr. Jenkins had not quite finished his little programme yet. Having
seen the men slung aloft, he strode into the cabin and up to the
captain’s state-room door, at which he knocked with a determined fist.
“Who’s there?” quavered the skipper.
“It’s me,” answered the mate, “an’ I want a word or two with you,
Captain Swainson, before we go any further.”
“Go away, Mr. Jenkins,” replied the skipper in a tremulous voice, “I’m
too ill to talk to you now.”
The mate’s answer was to fling the door wide open.
Then confronting the cowed man he said, “Now, Captain Swainson,
understand from this out that I am the mate of this ship, fit and able
to do my work, and determined to have the respect due to me from every
man on board, beginning with you. I have put up with all the slights
and insults from you that I intend putting up with, and now if you
don’t treat me as I deserve I’ll take the command from you and keep
you under arrest until we reach Levuka. I’m going to work the ship’s
position every day and know as much about her as you do, if not more.
I’ve let you have your fling until you raised mutiny, which, thanks to
the second mate and the boys, has been stopped. Now understand there’s
to be no more fooling. Treat me properly and I’ll behave as your mate,
try any more of your miserable games on and I’ll do just what I’ve
said. That’s all.”
And with the air of a conqueror Mr. Jenkins strode away, leaving the
skipper in about as abject a condition as a man could well be. And
so the ship was saved for the time, but only, as you see, because a
law-abiding man had been driven to desperation and compelled to cast
all fear of his future away and take the place he never ought to have
relinquished.
Frank was astounded at the change in everything on board which almost
immediately took place, and it made an impression upon his mind which
never left it, of the value of discipline and of having some strong
man to command. More than that, the part which he and his two seniors
had played in rallying to the support of their officers in the face
of a common danger gave them a sense of their own importance in the
scheme of things which did them much good, and knit them together for
the first time. They squabbled among themselves no longer, and instead
of the aimless tattle, sometimes evil and always useless, which had
characterised the yarns of Williams and Johnson with each other,
discussions about the way to do things and the prospect of promotion
were held.
But they were unanimous on one point especially, which was that since
Master Harry had chosen to develop into a loafer as far as his work on
deck was concerned, they would take care that he did all the menial
work when he was below, and so with a great deal of protestation on
his part and rather severe coercion on theirs, he was made to wait on
them and keep the house clean--himself too. And it was astonishing how
particular they became when they had some one whom they could make do
things for them instead of having to do them for themselves.
On deck they learned rapidly now, for although neither the mate nor the
second mate gave them any definite teaching, they were treated exactly
like the men, and found that as they learned their work they were
allowed to do things that in the ordinary way they would never have got
a chance at. But it was very curious how in the new order of things
the skipper was ignored. The mate was really in command of the ship,
for Captain Swainson never interfered in any way; he was more like a
passenger than one concerned in the ship’s business. He was treated
with studied courtesy by everybody, for somehow, without any definite
orders having been given on the subject, all felt that the mate would
speedily have punished any attempt at insolence to the captain. Mr.
Jenkins was far too good an officer to allow any such insubordination
as that, now he had regained his rightful position on board.
Still the skipper’s position was painful and lonely in the extreme.
Deprived of his beloved stimulant, which had always made him feel
dignified and important, and conscious of the feelings of all hands
towards him, he felt a deep craving for society, and, like the weakling
that he was, fell back on the steward, with whom he came in more
frequent contact than with anybody else. And when a skipper does that
he is very far gone indeed. He is like a housewife who has forfeited
all the love and respect of her husband and children by evil behaviour,
and has fallen back upon her servants for company.
And still the ship sped on her long journey. For a ship is somewhat
like time, whatever be the conditions on board short of disaster,
slowly or swiftly she goes on towards her appointed goal. Wheel and
look-out are relieved, sails are trimmed, watches succeed one another,
and however long the way may seem, the miles are eaten into one by one,
until looking back it seems wonderful how she has come so far in so
short a time.
The _Sealark_ was no clipper, as I have said before, and met with only
the usual weather prevalent on that passage, and so at the end of four
months she had passed the great Australian continent, and heading
northward, soon changed the fierce stress of the westerly gales for
mild and gentle breezes, the cold grey skies of the Southern Ocean for
the deep blue vault of the Pacific heavens with their myriad burning
brightnesses, and the mighty rollers of the Antarctic for the gentle
waves, milk warm and coruscating in the sunshine by day, blue-black and
shot with lambent flame by night, of the vast peaceful sea.
And now Frank really began to enjoy life. He could not have stated it
in so many words, but he felt as if all the stern experiences which
he had endured at the outset of this voyage, dreadful as they had
seemed to him at the time, were a small payment for the present sense
of reward. He drank in the beauty of his surroundings with the keenest
physical delight, felt himself strong, and worthy, and proud, and,
if he had not been too much of a man now, would have liked to dance
and sing for sheer delight of living. But he felt a deep and certain
satisfaction in the knowledge that he had chosen his vocation in life
aright, and went about his work springingly.
I hope it will not be thought that I am painting my hero in too
favourable colours, because I can assure my readers that he is not at
all an uncommon type of boy, but one that I have often had the pleasure
of meeting and being associated with, both afloat and ashore. And for
one good thing there was no nonsense about him. He might, it is true,
have given more thought than he did to those dear ones he had left at
home, but he found out experimentally that when he did he was apt to
get discontented with his surroundings, and a bit homesick too, so he
deliberately tried not to think too much about dear grimy Dewsbury and
those who dwelt there, except in picturing his triumphant return.
Now, as the weather grew so fine and the nights were so delightful, he
courted Hansen’s company again, and with more ease, because Mr. Jenkins
had, ever since the great change, dispensed with the boys’ keeping
watch on the poop at night on their promise to keep within hail. And
now he was joined by Johnson, who, being a good fellow at bottom, and
only a bit lazy, felt that if he didn’t mind Frank would get away
ahead of him; and so they both sat and talked sea-lore all through the
night watches on deck when they had neither wheel nor look-out, and
accumulated knowledge apace.
Then came the great event of the voyage so far for Frank. He was on
the main-royal yard one morning at daybreak busy at some small task,
and when he had completed it, instead of coming down at once, he sat
still a minute or two gazing around him at the gorgeous beauty of sea
and sky, feeling tremendously impressed, in spite of his matter-of-fact
nature, with his marvellous surroundings.
And then as the sun emerged majestically from the sea upon his right,
and flooded ocean and heaven with a golden glow, he saw right ahead
what even he could not help knowing was land. It was a solid black
irregular lump clearly defined against the brilliant sky, such as he
felt sure no cloud could ever look like. Strange as it may appear, the
vessel had not sighted land since leaving Britain, which accounts for
his excitement. He trembled so that he could hardly hold on, and stared
at this new sight as if his eyes would pop out of their sockets. Then
recovering himself he slid down the backstays, and running aft to the
mate, reported what he had seen.
To his great surprise the mate received the news very quietly, saying
only, “Yes, I expected to sight it this morning; it’s Norfolk Island.”
But Frank was full of the wonder at having come straight to this little
spot upon the ocean’s surface after nearly four months’ journeying over
the trackless ocean, and just bubbled over with enthusiasm about it,
which Johnson did his best to damp, saying, “I don’t know what you’re
making all the fuss about; it’s nothing. Didn’t expect we should lose
our way, did you?”
By noon they had drawn close up to the beautiful island, so near indeed
that the forests which had looked at a distance as if the hills were
covered with dark-green grass, now showed up in all their magnificent
beauty of great trees, with towering cliffs and deep ravines into which
the sea rushed sullenly, and recoiled in a smother of snowy foam.
Nearer and nearer still they drew, until to Frank’s delight they saw
several canoes making towards them. As these came alongside, Frank, who
was eagerly looking forward to seeing some picturesque savages, was
somewhat disappointed to see that the dark-skinned boatmen were all
clothed in shirts and trousers, and was still more astonished to hear
the vessel hailed in good English, “Ship ahoy, where are you bound to?
may we come aboard?”
Permission being given and a rope thrown to them, several fine sturdy
fellows soon flung themselves inboard and greeted every one whom they
met effusively, as if they were old friends.
They had brought a plentiful supply of fruit, vegetables, fowls, and
eggs, and very quickly hoisted their wares on deck. Until then Frank
had scarcely realised the privation of the voyage in respect of food,
the weary sameness of salt beef and pork, pea-soup and duff, with one
mess a week of tinned mutton and preserved potatoes, which he loathed,
yet had to eat because there was nothing else. He found himself
dribbling at the mouth with eagerness to taste those beautiful oranges
and bananas, to say nothing of the fowls, eggs, and vegetables.
He rushed to his chest and got out his money, his father having given
him three pounds for pocket-money when he left home, a fact which he
had quite forgotten until now. But when he came rushing back with his
coins in his hands and inquired the price of the fruit, he was amazed
to find that these civilised islanders wanted clothes in barter, not
money at all, and that moreover the commodities they had brought were
rapidly disappearing, the steward buying largely for the cabin, and the
men were eagerly offering shirts and trousers for quantities of food
which were far below their value.
Poor Frank was almost desperate, and quite unaware of how he was
delivering himself into the hands of these astute islanders, who
were adepts at dealing with sailors ravenous for fresh food after a
long passage at sea. In the end he became possessed of about a dozen
oranges, a small bunch of bananas, about thirty, and two eggs, for two
shirts which were nearly new, and had cost four and sixpence each in
Liverpool. The total value of what he had received in exchange being
about one shilling.
He was not to be blamed, for his experience was quite a common one. I
myself have given two shirts worth at least six shillings for a dozen
baskets of sweet potatoes, whose total weight was certainly not more
than twelve pounds. This was in the Straits of Sunda, and the astute
Javanese had packed the bottoms of the baskets with leaves, putting
just three or four potatoes on the top, and not allowing examination
until the bargain was made and the garments handed over. They knew the
simplicity and gullibility of the sailor as well as any longshore man
at home, and took full advantage of him. As everybody does in all parts
of the world, except those who seek him for his good.
Having sold out their wares, the islanders scrambled into their boats,
and pushing off in high glee made for the shore with their spoil, while
the ship, struck by a heavy squall, such as will always be met with
under high land, sped rapidly past the island, and was soon well on her
way with a new departure for Fiji.
But no one could calculate the value of that little episode in the
passage to these long-suffering ones, or the benefit that the fresh
food was to their salt-saturated blood. Frank thought that never in
his life had he tasted anything so delicious as that fruit, and as for
the eggs, well, Williams and Johnson had succeeded in obtaining two
dozen, and as they had got no fruit there was a grand exchange, and at
supper-time a feast of hard-boiled eggs, when the whole twenty-six were
wolfed by the four boys without any feeling that they were playing the
glutton.
Thenceforward the ship seemed to have entered a new world. The sea was
full of wonders. Strange birds and multitudes of fish, with occasional
troops of whales of various kinds, queer floating things, and sounds at
night also made Frank feel that all his early dreams of the delights
of a sea-life were more than realised; and he confided to his friend
Hansen his perfect satisfaction in his choice, saying again and again
that he felt sure he was right when he chose the sea as a profession,
and now he knew that it was the only life he could ever have lived.
Hansen looked upon him pityingly, benevolently, but said nothing,
feeling, perhaps, the uselessness of doing so, but at the same time
he felt that Frank’s enthusiasm, beautiful as it was, would soon fade
in the face of the stern realities of a sea-life when once he had
reached man’s estate. And yet, there was Harry Carter, of Frank’s own
age and with all of Frank’s opportunities, who had degenerated into a
wastrel, who bent all his faculties to the hard task of shirking work,
who wouldn’t learn and who would loaf, devoting as much brain power to
getting out of the performance of his legitimate duties as would have
made a man of him had he used them in the proper way.
One hundred and thirty-one days from home, and the joyful cry came
ringing down from the mast-head of “Land-ho!” It was the voice of
Hansen, who had been sent aloft by the mate to see if he could see
anything, and from the fore-topsail-yard had sighted the beautiful
outlines of Kandavu, an island of the Fiji group just south of Viti
Levu, where the mail steamers from San Francisco used to call on their
way to Sydney. The south-east Trades blew fresh, and the ship seemed
to feel the call of the land, so that by sunset, amid wonders of nature
that Frank felt could not be surpassed on earth, the _Sealark_ anchored
in the pretty bay of Levuka.
[Illustration: “THE SEALARK” ENTERS THE BAY.]
Who could hope to describe the tumult of mind experienced by Frank that
evening, as he witnessed the fish-like gambols of the Fijians who came
off in their canoes, or disported themselves around the ship like so
many seals? How he listened to the strange mellifluous language they
spoke, and the extraordinary attempts at English they made; how he
feasted upon eggs and fruit, and vegetables and fish, until he felt a
very glutton, then sat on the rail under the broad glare of the blazing
moon and listened to the strange sounds, sniffed the curious sweet
fragrance of the land, and dimly tried to recall the tales he had read
of the far-off cannibal islands in his childhood.
Then tried to realise that he was really here--and right on the other
side of the round world was that little family group whom he knew were
always thinking of him. A sudden sense of the vast distance he had
traversed came over him, a feeling of utter loneliness and longing to
see the faces of those dear ones seized upon him, and to his own utter
surprise a few hot drops came stealing down his cheeks, reminding him
that for all his manly experiences he was but a boy after all.
That made him angry with himself, and roughly brushing away the
tell-tale moisture he strode into the house and lit his pipe (I hadn’t
mentioned this acquisition of his) and began to laugh and banter Harry,
the butt of the house, who was as usual in trouble for forgetting to
wash up the supper traps. But at the earliest moment he sought his
bunk, for he wanted to forget his sudden homesickness, and in that dark
corner was almost immediately lost to all his external surroundings.