HOME AT LAST
It was eleven o’clock at night before the _Sealark_ was finally moored
and the dismissal words said, but there were already those alongside
of whom Dickens said “they were all waiting for Jack.” Frank and his
two housemates, lounging by the rail smoking their pipes, watched
the proceedings, saw how earnestly the hired emissaries of the
boarding-masters laboured to prevent the newly arrived men from going
with the representative of the Sailors’ Home; saw, too, the passing of
bottles laden with the most potent argument a sailor knows as a rule.
Presently they had all departed their several ways, and the boys, tired
out, retired to their bunks and slept the sweet sleep of wearied youth.
They were allowed to sleep it out in the morning, not being aroused
until eight o’clock, and then the captain summoned them aft and handed
them some money with which to telegraph to their parents and get their
breakfast, telling them at the same time that until the ship was paid
off they would be required to remain by her, but as the dock rules did
not allow of them getting food on board without special permit, he
would see about getting them a lodging-place where they would be well
and comfortably housed.
So the three sallied ashore together all unknowing of the intricate
neighbourhood, and the story of their adventures before they found
their way on board again at eleven would make a serious inroad upon
this chapter. Mr. Cope received them on their return with a grave face,
but when he saw that they were all right and sober he did not scold
them; indeed, except that he reminded them that they were supposed to
work, but not hard, he might have been, as far as his behaviour went,
one of themselves. By noon they all had replies from home. Frank’s
telegram ran thus: “Dear boy, so glad and thankful; are sending money
by letter; come home as soon as ever you can, we are all longing for
you.--FATHER AND MOTHER.”
But Frank to his horror found that he could not wear his go-ashore
clothes. They were shabby anyhow with mildew and other marks, but he
had grown out of them so much that he was ashamed to go ashore with
them on. In this plight he applied to the skipper when he came on board
at noon, radiant with good news, who immediately gave him an order upon
a tailor’s runner who was even then waiting on board, and Frank was
forthwith measured. Then the skipper thanked him for the letter which
he had sent home from San Francisco describing the events on board. He
said that he had reason to believe that mainly owing to that letter the
owners had confirmed him in the command of the ship. And Frank felt
very glad, for he knew how well Captain Jenkins deserved it.
It is perhaps unnecessary for me to say how irksome Frank found it
kicking his heels about on board the ship awaiting her paying off.
Neither he nor his two chums were able to settle down to anything,
and they all detested, as any country-bred lads would do, the grimy,
unlovely purlieus of the Millwall Dock. Moreover, they had no money
to spare for sight-seeing and no one to show them around if they had,
so their journeys never took them farther than Aldgate, and they
unanimously decided that they did not like London, having seen nothing
of it but its seamiest side. So that indeed it was a cheerful morning
when Frank found himself at King’s Cross boarding one of the splendid
Great Northern expresses for Leeds, and a surprise so sweet that it
nearly broke down his sedate air of manhood when, on the train steaming
into Leeds after a journey so delightful that it seemed all too short,
he saw his two dear sisters awaiting him on the platform. I am glad to
say that he did not put on any of that silly public-school side that is
ashamed to show any affection in public, but allowed his long pent-up
love to overflow as he hugged and kissed those loved ones, who indeed
were ready to eat him, as we say.
They had but a few minutes to wait after changing to the other station,
and they hardly knew anything of them, in fact they were all in a
perfect dream of delight, only, Frank’s long training having rallied
to his aid, he kept a good look-out for everything, and presently they
were in dear old Dewsbury. A cab was called, and off they rattled over
the cobbles _home_. Father was there from business, fearing the effect
of the shock upon the mother and anxious on his own account to see his
fine son. Over that sacred moment of meeting I drop a veil, for it is
always to be felt only, not described. And then when the happy mist had
cleared from their eyes and they saw him clearly, how deep was their
joy. They saw that the boy they had sent away with trembling hearts had
stood the ordeal well, had come back clear-eyed and manly, nothing of
the braggart, or sneak, or cad about him. Happy parents! no wonder that
down in their hearts they thanked God.
Such evenings as those stand out in the memory like the golden
milestones of life, when safe back from the numberless perils and
temptations of such a voyage as his had been, with all the dear ones
whom he had left greeting him sound and well, Frank was able to sit and
tell them such things as they had never dreamed of before. Of course
they asked no friends, they wanted him all to themselves, as well they
might, and so thoroughly did they enjoy one another’s society that
it was midnight before they realised that half the evening had gone.
And oh, the delights of snoodling down into a mother-made bed after
feasting upon the delicious food of home, “Why,” Frank said naïvely,
“this alone is worth going round the world for.” And with a happy sigh
the young sailor fell asleep.
Now it is my intention to pass with extreme rapidity over the events
of the next month, as it is so easy to imagine what sort of a time
Frank was bound to have at home. Of course all his girl friends fell
promptly in love with him, much to his annoyance, and all the fellows
of his own age felt their noses put clean out of joint and envied him
consumedly. Indeed six of them pestered their parents so persistently
that they were allowed to go to sea too, but that is another story.
Of course Frank went to Lytham to see Captain Burns and had a splendid
day with him, the captain being intensely interested in his young
friend’s experiences, as may be supposed; also from thence he paid the
owners a visit and came away from them with a full heart, for they said
many pleasant words of encouragement. And then, before, as he put it,
he had time to get soft, he received a summons to rejoin his ship in
London, as, having discharged and ballasted, she was bound round to
Cardiff to load coals for Hong-Kong.
But before he starts off again I must mention one fact which I had
nearly forgotten. He had specially requested Hansen to let him know
his address in London, and Hansen, being the only sensible fellow
apparently of the whole crew, gave him the Sailors’ Home as the place
where he was going to stay. He said, moreover, that he was coming back
to the same old ship again, as she suited him, and he wanted to be with
his young friend.
Frank’s report to his father of Hansen’s inestimable services to him
led that gentleman to write a private letter to Hansen enclosing an
order for ten pounds, not as payment, as he put it, but as a small
token of his appreciation. But his surprise and gratification were very
great when he received a well-written reply from Hansen praising up
his boy and returning the money, with the remark that it was a very
great pleasure for him to do what he had done, so that to take money
for it would rob him of most of that pleasure. He further said that
he had fully made up his mind to go in the same ship again, and he
earnestly hoped to be of further use.
This of course was splendid hearing for both Frank and his father,
while the dear mother insisted upon sending by Frank’s hands a token of
her loving thanks to the man who had been kind to her boy. So after the
manifold leave-takings, behold Frank off again, full of eagerness to
return, for he felt somehow that all this petting-up was not good for
him, and the salt having entered his blood, he was anxious to be at sea
again. I know there will be many of my friends acquainted with the sea
who will sneer at this, but they will surely remember how many fellows
they have met who were quite like-minded, and acquit me of making any
misleading statements.
He reached the ship without any incident worth mentioning, feeling
strangely as if he were coming to another home as he neared her,
although truth compels me to say that when he reached the deck-house he
felt a cold shudder of disgust at the inevitable contrast between the
sweet cosy home he had just left and this dirty, dingy hole with the
bunks full of the odds and ends of all kinds that had been thrust there
out of the way temporarily.
I would like to say in passing that this is one of the drawbacks to a
young officer’s early career which is now very much altered for the
better in the steamers which carry apprentices--but then steam has
ameliorated the seafarer’s condition all round and there is no use to
blink the fact, romance or no romance. However, Frank was not the boy
to stand and look at a thing that wanted doing; so first going aft and
greeting Mr. Cope, also confirmed in his position as chief officer, he
asked that gentleman to excuse him while he went and made a clearance
in the half-deck, which he explained had been turned into a bo’sun’s
locker.
Mr. Cope grinned sardonically as he replied, “Yes, I expect it looks
a bit off after home. But never mind, Frank, you’ll soon settle down
to it again; not like last trip, eh? There’s two green hands coming
though, so you’ll have your hands full. Williams has been sent to
another ship.”
Feeling rather glad that it was not Johnson who had left, Frank
returned to his work and there, at the door of the house, to his
intense delight he met Hansen, who had just come aboard as he said
to have a look round, having signed articles yesterday morning and
the ship being due away the next day. Seeing the condition of things,
Hansen whipped off his coat and lent Frank a hand to get the den
cleared out, both working with all the more goodwill because it was
a bitterly cold day in December, only a fortnight before Christmas,
and the blistering east wind whistled round that bleak deck enough to
freeze the marrow of their bones.
While they were thus busily engaged they became aware of the presence
of two new-comers, boys of about fourteen, in all the glory of
their first uniform suits, who stood looking helplessly on at their
energetic movements. And then the mate’s voice in the rear was heard
saying, “Frank, these are the two new apprentices, Jones and Fordham.
I know you’ll put them straight--they’ll be better off than you were,
eh?” Frank flushed with pride, and resolved that he _would_ behave
differently to them, remembering his own early misery, and immediately
took them in hand. If he was somewhat dictatorial and patronising, I am
sure he was to be excused, for his help to them was invaluable.
So stoutly did he labour and drive them too that by five o’clock
the little house began to look shipshape, the new-comers’ gear had
been unpacked, their working rigs got ready; oilskins, sea-boots,
mess-traps, all hung up and put ready for use, and they themselves were
feeling more accustomed to their strange surroundings than Frank had
been after a week at sea. The good it did them, too, was great, and all
the more so because he was not conscious of it. Then, when all was done
that he could do at that time, he sought the mate and inquired about
their supper and whether they should stay ashore the night, as Hansen
had offered to convoy them to the Sailors’ Home. Mr. Cope thought it
would be a good idea, but first he called Hansen on one side and gave
him a solemn warning to look after the lads and not let them get into
any mischief.
“Mr. Cope,” replied Hansen, “I lofe dot boy like he bin mine own sohn,
unt I rader lose mein life as let anyding happen mit him.”
“All right, Hansen,” rejoined the mate, “I believe you, in fact I know
you’re a good chap; but last night ashore, you know.”
“Ah, sir,” said Hansen seriously, “last night all same as fust night,
it don’t make no diffrunce mit me, I don’t never go unt make fool of
mineselluf, ’tain’t good enough for me. Goot night, sir, we been abort
goot unt early to-morrow.”
And off went the four through the foul byways of Shadwell towards
Well Street, piloted by Hansen, who seemed to be thoroughly at home.
I do not wish to linger over this part of my story, but I cannot help
pausing a moment to point out that on that short journey of a little
over a mile, and despite the extreme youth of two of the party, they
were molested several times by brutal-looking men and rough unsexed
women, who were prowling about those gloomy streets like wild animals
in the jungle seeking their prey. But by great good fortune they
escaped, Hansen declaring that if he had to make the same journey again
he would take the main road for it, he wouldn’t run such a risk after
dark again for anything.
It was a dreadful night, so after they had finished their supper in
the Home they did not stir out again, but made themselves comfortable
in one of the cosy reading-rooms, or roamed about the great building
looking at the beautiful models and pictures until it was time to go to
their cabins, which they did early, feeling tired out and remembering
the early call that would be made on them in the morning.
And so well did they sleep that it was no easy task to get the
youngsters under way again in the morning, as the steward said, the
beds pulled so hard. But at seven o’clock they were all out in the
fast-falling snow, which, however beautiful it is in the country, makes
the poor streets of a big city dreadfully miserable, and turns the
docks especially into places of horror. The appearance of the ship when
they reached her sent a cold shiver through them, she looked so gaunt
and wintry, and even Hansen the stolid said, “I hopes ve don’t go out
this morning; I don’t like snow anyway.”
Frank said nothing, but he thought of his last putting forth and felt
thankful that he was better prepared this time. And then as he reached
the snow-drifted decks he saw the crew tumbling about in their drunken
efforts to reach the fo’c’sle, and looking at Hansen he said, “I’m
afraid, old man, some of us’ll be in bad trouble before we get to sea
with this crowd.”
Hansen only shrugged his shoulders and passed on, while just at the
moment Frank stumbled against Johnson, who had reached the ship the
night before, and had put in a rather miserable time. Their greetings
were cordial if brief, for the time of their departure was at hand, and
all the usual confusion attendant upon getting a sailing ship out of a
crowded dock was in full swing. In addition, of course, there was the
nuisance of the drunken crowd, who simply could not be got to work,
being indeed so bad that it was necessary to retain the services of
several riggers, who had been working on board, to see the ship as far
as Gravesend. That settled, matters eased a bit, the helpless crew
were left alone to sleep off their drink, and the sober workers soon
got the ship pointed into the river where the seagoing tug awaited her.
Away she went at a brisk speed, while the hands laboured fiercely to
get the decks cleared up and take shelter, for it was indeed, as they
tersely put it, a perfect beast of a day. And now Frank recognised
fully what a nuisance he must have been last voyage, for his new
shipmates seemed to him to be as stupid as chunks of wood, irritating
him so much that at last he drove them into the house and told them
to stop there, which they were very glad to do, being nearly frozen.
Yet they were really no more stupid than he was, only--well, you know
now--and can yet sympathise with Frank in his annoyance.
In due time the _Sealark_ reached Gravesend, where, upon an examination
of the men by Mr. Cope and a consultation between the skipper and the
pilot, and after receiving the mate’s report upon the men’s condition,
it was decided to anchor for the night in order to let them sober
up thoroughly. It would never do to go out to sea with them all in
that state. So she was brought to an anchor, the riding-light hoisted
and the riggers discharged, and the boys and Hansen felt their minds
greatly relieved at the thought that they had not to face the Channel
upon such an awful night with a helpless crew.
So they retired to their house and had a bit of fun with the
new-comers, introducing them to the wonders of board-ship feeding. But
while they were in the midst of their fun there was a voice at the door
and they saw their new second mate, a grizzled elderly man with a harsh
voice, who said, “Now then, you last year’s apprentices, you’ll have to
keep anchor watch. What’s your names?”
Frank, readiest of the twain, rose to his feet and said, “Are you the
second officer, sir?”
“I am just that, and my name’s Jacks, Mr. Jacks,” answered he, “and
don’t forget it. You’re Brown, I know, and this other seaman here is
Johnson, I suppose. Well, one of you’ll come on watch at eight bells
and stand till four bells, the other’ll relieve him till eight bells
and then call Hansen, and mind you keep a good look-out,” and he was
gone.
Johnson and Frank looked blankly at each other, for they hadn’t
reckoned on this, and were looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
So I won’t record their unjust remarks about Mr. Jacks, who was only
carrying out his orders after all, and somebody must do the work. But
it was a bit rough on the boys, to be thus called upon to supply the
place of men who were sleeping off their debauch in the forecastle.
They were cheered up though presently by the appearance of Captain
Jenkins, who came and spoke generously to them, bidding them look
forward to a better time this voyage than last, and assuring them that
he had not forgotten their splendid behaviour. He also spoke kindly to
the two bewildered youngsters, who sat blinking at him as if he were
some dread apparition fraught with terrible meaning for them. Then he
departed, giving them good night and leaving them with a sense of
grateful appreciation pervading their whole being, Johnson expressing
himself, boy fashion, as follows: “Well, the old man hasn’t forgotten
us after all. He ain’t half a bad sort, even if he has got to make us
do men’s work. I’ll bet he’ll make it up to us by-and-by, though. Don’t
you think so, Frank?”
“I do that,” replied Frank, “and now we’ll toss for first watch, so as
one of us can turn in.”
“Right you are,” said Johnson, who produced a halfpenny, with which he
won the toss and immediately elected to stand first watch. So it being
seven o’clock they all turned in, and Frank knew no more until Johnson,
his teeth chattering in his head, turned him out at four bells (ten
o’clock) to watch over the safety of the ship until midnight.
It was an awful night, half a gale of bitter north-east wind blowing,
with occasional squalls of blinding sleet; and certainly Frank may be
forgiven if he did seek the most sheltered corner he could find, and
there, with his head sunk between his shoulders in the collar of his
reefer, and his pipe fiercely glowing, prepared to endure the passing
of the time until midnight. It was not an ideal method of keeping
anchor watch, but honestly, it was not very far removed from the way in
which the vigil usually is kept. And in any case I think it was utterly
indefensible for the second mate to behave as he did. He suddenly
appeared before the half-dozing lad and, snatching him by the collar,
flung him aside with such force as to make him fall heavily on deck,
at the same time assailing him with a string of foul names for, as he
falsely said, sleeping on his watch.
The half-dazed lad staggered to his feet, unable for the moment to
comprehend what had happened to him. Indeed, it was nothing short of a
catastrophe, for he had never been used like that in all his life. And
then as the second mate, still cursing, advanced upon him again, the
whole ghastly truth broke in upon him, and he went temporarily mad. He
flew like a wild-cat straight at the second mate’s throat, clutching it
with both hands, and the weight of his body bore his assailant backward
to the deck. In vain the second mate tried to beat him off, to tear
himself loose; the boy held on, his one idea being to destroy his enemy.
And I think there can be little doubt but that in his mad rage he
would have killed this man of nearly twice his strength, but that the
skipper, who had come on deck to take a last look at the weather before
turning in, heard something unusual, and came forward to see what it
was. He snatched at Frank, being the uppermost, and tore the frantic
lad off his foe. The second mate struggled to his feet and rushed at
Frank again, held as he was in the grip of the skipper. He had been
in American ships, where it is the humane custom for one officer to
hold a man tightly while another batters him out of all resemblance to
humanity. It is a characteristically American feat, but, fortunately
for Frank, Captain Jenkins was not built that way. Holding the second
mate off with one sturdy arm, he said sternly, “What does this mean,
Mr. Jacks.”
“I’ll kill the ----” gasped the infuriated ruffian. “I’ll cut his liver
out. I’ll----”
“Look here,” shouted the skipper, “if you don’t cool down I shall
heat up, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t. Now then, Frank, what’s the
matter?”
It was no easy task for Frank to reply. Rage and shame made him almost
speechless, but at last he gasped out the shameful story and told just
the plain truth. When he had finished, Captain Jenkins said soothingly,
“There, there, that’ll do, my boy, you’re over-excited. Go and turn in,
I’ll arrange for your watch.” And off Frank went, glad enough to get
away.
When he had gone, the skipper turned to the second mate and said,
“Now, Mr. Jacks, what devil possessed you to go and assault one of my
apprentices, and one too that’s as good a man as any we’ve got in the
ship. I know the value of muscle and of a little punching occasionally,
but to go and strike a lad who’s doing man’s work, that those fellows
in the forecastle are paid for doing, why, you must be an infernal
cur yourself to dream of such a thing. Now mark, that lad is in your
watch and I shan’t take him out of it, so as to give you an opportunity
of doing the right thing by him. And you’ll get a chance to win your
character back as a man by the way you treat the crew. If I find you
let them skulk and put their work on the lads, nothing shall save you
from going forrard as one of them. You must behave man-fashion, and
above all treat that good lad properly, or I’ll make you wish you’d
been dead before you shipped with me.”
“Better let me go ashore at once, cap’n,” replied the discomfited
man; “there’s no room for a second mate between the skipper and his
favourites.”
“Well, in the first place, you’re not going ashore; in the next, I have
no favourites. As long as man, boy, or officer does his proper work,
he’ll get justice from me, and if you do your duty you’ll be all right.
Now go and turn in, I’ll see about things till midnight. Good night,”
and they separated.
I need not recount the eventless hours until 4 A.M., when the cook was
called to prepare coffee. That comforting beverage was ready at five
and all hands were called, with the warning that it would be “Man the
windlass” in half-an-hour. They were all sober by this time, but in a
state of abject misery, and the prospect of mounting the forecastle
head and heaving up the anchor was to them a terrible one. Nevertheless
the work had to be done, for the tide was making strongly and the tug
was waiting.
It was now that the second mate found full scope for his evil temper,
for the poor wretches were continually taking shelter below from the
bitter blast, and were quite regardless of his oaths and blows until
he dragged them out by main force, and then if they were not closely
watched they would scramble below again. Heart-breaking work, indeed,
for both sides, but down underneath, where the big muddy links of the
cable were lying hauled back in darkness and filth and biting cold
by the four young gentlemen’s sons, certainly not less so. And one
of those boys at any rate could not help feeling disheartened, apart
altogether from his work. He knew--how could he help knowing?--how
well he had done his work hitherto, and now to be cuffed and cursed
like a dog--it made his brain burn as it would never have done had he
been dragged up to it. But still he persevered with his work, for it
had become a habit with him, even though he had lost heart.
In this wise, and by superhuman efforts on the part of those who really
did work, the anchor was hove up and secured, and the clumsy ship,
lying like a balloon upon the water by reason of her ballast trim, was
headed down the darksome river again, while the miserable crew were
kept going in order to prepare them for the work that would presently
fall to them, when, the tug having left, the ship would need her own
canvas under which to sail. The grey, dreary morning came, and a good
breakfast of lobscouse was served out, which put some life into the
men, and even infused a little cheerfulness into the grim forecastle
whence all hope seemed fled.
But the treatment, though severe, of hard work, bitter cold, and
complete stoppage of drink, was having a beneficial effect, and amid
the customary growlings, mostly meaningless, men might be seen having a
few draws of the pipe, and making halfhearted efforts to put things a
bit straight in the forecastle. In the house the two unhappy new-comers
were just quietly miserable, feeling quite unable to eat the new food,
bitterly cold, and full of alarm for the future. Frank and Johnson
discussed the second mate, Johnson being surprised at the change in
his genial shipmate, who seemed transformed into a veritable demon of
revenge. That brutal bully had done the boy irreparable harm, not so
much by his action itself, but by the sheer injustice of it, for that,
however incapable we may feel about arguing it out, is the craving of
all of us, justice, and nothing hurts me personally more than injustice.
They were all wisely allowed a good long time for breakfast, in order
to allow the good effects of the food to soak in, and then they were
turned to, to prepare for the coming struggle, which, as the sky was
filling with heavy, banked-up clouds in the west, threatened to be a
severe one. The tug ahead went on like fate, until off Beachy Head, the
limit of her contract, then signified the same by two sharp whistles
which made the mate jump and shout for the fore and afters to be run
up. The pilot, of course, had been dropped early off Dungeness. As soon
as the fore and aft sails were hoisted and the topsails loosed, the tug
gave another short, sharp blast of her whistle, and slipped the hawser,
turning sharp round and pelting back for another job, all interest in
the _Sealark_ at an end.
Oh, it was a work to get that hawser in! Nothing for all hands in good
form, but then--they felt as if it would never be done, and indeed it
might well have been far easier if the tug had aided by backing astern
instead of letting the gigantic rope go and trail under the ship’s
bottom. Being wet and stiff, it was hardly less difficult to stow
it than to haul it in, and then to get sail on her. Then, too, they
found how indifferently the riggers in London had done their work. It
is impossible to explain in a book like this the hardships imposed
upon sailors who have to handle a ship in Channel on a stormy winter’s
night when the work of preparation aloft, which has been done in dock
by riggers, has been done so scandalously that it seems as if the ship
were all coming to pieces. There has been no time to supervise these
men’s work, and so a lot of poor fellows, quite new to the ship and her
peculiarities, have to contend with them and the neglect of the riggers
at the worst possible time, and when they are in the worst possible
fettle to do it.
Well, in the end they got the ship under easy sail (she could not carry
much, being so very tender), and blessed themselves that at least they
had a fair wind, although some of the wisest of them looked wistfully
ahead at the great, gloomy banks of cloud that were piling up there,
and felt in their very marrow that this slant would not last long.
But it gave them a respite, and before the night fell the usual job
of picking for watches took place, when Frank took the opportunity of
noting his new shipmates. There were ten all told, so that as ships go
she was fairly well manned. A big Swede named Ohlsen, Hansen, and a
smart-looking Italian answering to the name of Natalie, with two young
Scotchmen, Mackenzie and Donald, made up the second mate’s watch, the
mate having a fine stalwart west countryman, two Norwegians, Larsen
and Petersen, and two Welshmen from Carnarvon, Davies and Evans. So
that she was, although quite cosmopolitan in her crew, not so full of
the foreign element as sailing ships usually are. The cook and steward
were both Maltese and fairly good men, while the carpenter, about
whom I had nothing to say last voyage because he was one of those
self-effacing men who usually elude notice, was an elderly Finn named
Stadey, a thoroughly good and efficient man, but withal so quiet and
inoffensive that you would hardly know how he was on board at all. He
had been in the ship seven voyages.
Remains only to speak of the second mate, Mr. Jacks. Ruffian and bully
as he undoubtedly was, he was evidently a fine seaman, the combination
being a very usual one in American ships, where he had served most
of his time. But the same aptitude for driving men and brutally
ill-treating them in the bargain, which had made him a favourite in
the Yankee blood-boats, operated against him in English vessels, to
which he had come when he had grown too old for the position of a
Yankee second mate. And now, in addition to his naturally evil temper
and cruel disposition, he was soured by disappointment, and getting on
for fifty years of age, which for an executive officer at sea is fully
equal to sixty ashore.
It was, of course, the second mate’s first watch on deck that night
from eight till midnight, according to ancient custom, and the first
thing he did after the watches were set was to call Frank on the
poop and tell him he would have to keep his watch there (the two
new-comers were both in their bunks, helpless with sea-sickness). Very
respectfully Frank pointed out (although his voice trembled) that he
had been doing a man’s work for some time, that he stood his regular
wheel and look-out, and that while he didn’t want to disobey orders,
if the second mate persisted in ordering him to stay up there like a
boy who could do nothing but watch the clock, he must appeal to the
captain.
This new check made the officer furious, and although trying to put
some restraint upon himself, he could not help rapping out a few fierce
oaths, cursing the day that brought him into a ship where he could be
bearded by a pack of boys, Frank meanwhile keeping a wary eye upon him.
At last he blurted out, “Very well, I s’pose you must do as you like,
but don’t you drive me too far or you’ll find me a match for you and
the skipper too.” And Frank got down from the poop feeling no elation
at his victory, but heavy-hearted rather at the prospect of a long
voyage under such a man. But he made up his mind to give no cause for
offence, and to do his utmost for his own sake, even though he had no
hope of ever getting into the good graces of his superior officer.
The watch wore easily on, the wind dropping steadily until it was
nearly a flat calm. But the weather looked vile in its threatening
appearance, the greasy, rolling, ragged, black clouds hanging low,
and the sea having an uneasy chop that in itself betokened a change.
That change came almost exactly at midnight, and, much to Frank’s
disgust, it was nearly four bells before she was snugged down to two
lower-topsails and foresail, and put off the land on the starboard
tack. But he could not help noticing as he had not done before what
a superb seaman the second mate was at work like this, and being a
lad with a passionate desire for justice, as I have said before, he
determined if possible to compel this brave bully to recognise that he
at least did not owe anything to the skipper’s favouritism.
The next ten days were full of misery for them, for the gale blew
with scarcely an hour’s intermission and would not allow them to get
down Channel at all, while the cold and wet and constant dread of her
capsizing from her scanty ballast tried the crew severely. Still they
were what you must call a fairly good crowd, and once freed from the
effects of their liquor had developed into first-class seamen, working
together with a will in spite of their diverse nationalities. That is
not always impossible, for I very well remember being before the mast
in a big barque on an East Indian voyage when my watchmates were an
Irishman, a Swede, a Finn, a Frenchman from St. Malo, a Breton from
Peniche, and a negro ordinary seaman. And but for the Irishman, who
was the most worthless and degraded specimen of the race I have yet
encountered, we were quite a happy family; indeed when we got rid of
him in Hong-Kong we were entirely so. But as his principal boast was
that he had been in gaol in every port he had ever been in all round
the world, having commenced many voyages but never completed one, his
detrimental qualities will be understood.
Still, fore-reaching down Channel in midwinter is not an experience
to be desired, however much it may bring out the manliness of the
sufferers. Of course the amount of suffering varies with the ship, and
the _Sealark_ was by no means one of the worst. There were, however,
many lightened hearts on board two days before Christmas, when, having
had by sheer hard labour worked her down to a position off the Bishop,
the wind hauled round to the southward and permitted them at four
o’clock on Christmas Eve to anchor in Penarth Roads. That was good,
but better still was the blessed chance that enabled them to get into
Penarth Dock early on Christmas morning, and then, having cleared up
decks, to have the rest of the day to themselves, and to enjoy such a
feast as only sailors could. I feel that I have grossly neglected the
two youngsters Jones and Fordham, but really in the first place I am
not telling their story, and in the next they had been entirely out of
the picture, so to speak, since leaving Gravesend. It was well for them
that both Frank and Johnson had taken pity on them and had not allowed
them to endure the usual fate of first-trip apprentices, so that taking
things all round they had not been very uncomfortable, although they
would probably have told a very different story.
Thanks to Captain Jenkins’ wisdom and forethought, they all had a
splendid Christmas as far as food and pleasure went, but the weather
still remaining atrociously bad, there was no inducement for any one
to go ashore, more especially in Penarth, which is an out-of-the-way
place affording few temptations to the sailor. Had it been Cardiff
now, another story might have been told, for the shipping fraternity
there are a very scaly lot indeed, and doubtless some of the men would
have been induced to desert. But nothing of the kind happened, and in
due course the ship was hauled under the tips, the great trucks came
rumbling alongside, were swung into the air and outward withal, then
lowered over the hatches and their grimy load released amid a blinding
cloud of dust, to find its way into the recesses of her hold. It is a
filthy job this loading of coal under tips, but it has its fascinations
for a contemplative mind able to trace it from its deep resting-place
in some Welsh valley through all its vicissitudes to its final
destination.
What, however, we are chiefly concerned with now is the fact that owing
to the despatch for which the great South Welsh coal-ports are famous,
the _Sealark_ was laden in two days, and, the tide being favourable,
was immediately towed out of dock to commence her real journey to the
Far East. At the beginning of things it seemed as if the elements
had tired of buffeting the poor old _Sealark_ about, for a strong
south-easterly breeze held good with smooth water until she was off
soundings and her voyage fairly begun.
And now, to the very great delight and satisfaction of the boys,
Captain Jenkins took a step that was at once wise and kind. Calling
Hansen aft, he told him that he had decided to make him boatswain at an
increased wage of ten shillings a month. This meant to the good fellow
not only better pay but better food and lodgment, as he would take the
other berth in the carpenter’s little den, and besides he would be next
door to his beloved boys, in whose welfare he had always taken so keen
an interest. As for Frank, he felt that this was all that had been
needed to make the voyage a success, for he had quite made up his mind
that he should be able to get along well with Mr. Jacks after all.