“Bosh, I say again,” was the reply, “the glass has been as steady as a
rock for the past three days,” and then, to my intense anger, he added
an insinuation that my fears had led me to deliberately misinterpret
what the natives had said. The retort I made was of so practical a
nature that the mate had to assist the skipper to his feet.
A quarter of an hour later, as the mate and I still walked the deck,
discussing the captain's shortcomings, the wind died away suddenly, and
then several of our native crew came aft, and said that a squall was
coming up from the westward, and the mate, though neither he nor myself
could then see any sign of it, went below and again called the captain.
He came on deck, with one hand covering his injured left optic, told
me he would settle with me in the morning, and then took a long look
astern, and there, certainly enough, was a long streak of black rising
over the horizon. The mate stood by waiting his orders.
“It's not coming near us,” said the little man more snappishly than
ever, as he marched up and down the poop.
“I say it is,” said Laird bluntly, “and I consider this ship will be
ashore, if we don't slip and tow out a bit before it is too late.”
The mate's manner had some effect on the obstinate little animal--“Oh,
well, if there's such a lot of old women on board, I'll give in. Call
the hands, and we'll heave up.”
“Heave up!” echoed the mate in angry astonishment, “what's the use of
trying to heave up now! That squall will be on us in ten minutes, and
if we had an hour to spare, it would be none too long. Why, man, it's
a dead calm, and the swell will send us into the surf on the reef quick
enough without our dragging the ship into it. Reckon the best and only
thing we can do, is down boats, and then slip cable right-away. We might
get a show then to lay along the reef, and get clear.”
“I'm not going to lose a new cable and anchor to please any one,” was
the stupid reply. (He could very easily have recovered both anchor and
cable with the assistance of the natives on the following day, or indeed
months after.)
Then he sang out to the men to man the windlass.
The hands, realising the danger, turned to with a will, but within five
minutes the first breath of the squall caught us, and sent us ahead,
as was evident by the way the slackened cable came in through the
hawsepipe.
We had out fifty-five fathoms of chain, and before twenty-five were in,
the squall was upon us properly; the brigantine went gracefully ahead,
overran her anchor, plunged into the roaring breakers on the reef, and
struck bows on.
In another moment or two a heavy sea caught her on the starboard
quarter, canted her round, and dashed her broadside on to the reef with
terrific violence. Then, fortunately for our lives, two or three further
rollers sent her crashing along till she brought up against two or
three coral boulders, whose tops were revealed every now and then by the
backwash. In less than twenty minutes she was hopelessly bilged, and her
decks swept by every sea.
We carried three boats, and our native sailors showed their pluck and
skill by actually getting all three safely into the water, two on the
lee side, and one on the other.
The captain, now conscious of his folly, became very modest, and gave
his orders quietly. The crew, however, took no notice of him and looked
to the mate. He (the captain) ordered me into the first boat, in which
were the ship's papers, charts, chronometer, &c. I refused, and said I
preferred getting on shore in my own way.
I had seen that two native boys (passengers) had run out on to the
bowsprit, and, watching their chance, had dropped over into a curling
roller, and were carried safely ashore.
I had with me on board about nine hundred silver Mexican and Chili
dollars--some in a cash box, the rest in a bag. Calling my native
servant, Levi, I asked him if he thought all the boats would get ashore
safely. He shook his head, said that it was doubtful, and that it would
be better for me to throw the bag and the cash box over the lee side,
where they were pretty sure to be recovered in the morning at low tide.
“All the boats will capsize, or get stove in, going over the reef, or
else will be smashed to bits on the shore,” he said, “and the natives
will steal everything they can lay their hands on, especially if the
white men are drowned. So it is better to throw the money overboard.”
I took his advice, and going on deck, we dropped both box and bag
overboard, just where Levi pointed out a big boulder, against which the
brigantine was crushing and pounding her quarter.
Again refusing to enter any of the boats, I watched my chance, and ran
for'ard, followed by Levi, and as soon as a big roller came along, we
dropped, and were carried ashore beautifully. Some hundreds of natives
and the white trader were on the look out, and ran in and caught us
before the backwash carried us out again.
The mate's boat had already reached the shore without accident, owing to
the splendid manner in which he and his native crew had handled her; but
both the captain and second mate came to grief, their boats broaching to
and capsizing just as they were within a few fathoms of the shore.
However, no lives were lost, and although next morning the brigantine's
decks had worked out of her and came ashore, the hull held together for
some weeks, and we saved a lot of stores. My money I recovered two or
three days later, though it had been carried more than a hundred yards
away from the spot where it had been dropped overboard. The tin cashbox
(which I had tied up in an oilskin coat, parcelled round with spun yarn,
and weighted inside with several hundred Snider cartridges) was found
buried in sand and broken coral, in a small pool on the reef; it
presented a most curious appearance, being almost round in shape. The
canvas bag was found near by, under a ledge of the reef, together with
the binnacle bell--which was doubled flat--and a dinner plate! The
bag (of No 2 canvas) had been hastily rolled up by Levi in the cabin
table-cloth, weighted with all the loose Snider cartridges we could find
in the darkened trade room, and tied up at each end like a “roly-poly.”
This proved its salvation, for when we dug it out (under three fathoms
of water) the outer covering came away in fine shreds, and some of the
big Mexican sun dollars had cut through the canvas.
So ended my second experience, and the only satisfactory thing about it
to me, after losing over a thousand pounds worth of goods through the
captain's obstinacy, was that when he was fussing about after the wreck
trying to get one of the anchors ashore, he managed to lose his right
forefinger. I regret to say that whilst I dressed the stump and bound up
his hand for him, I could not help telling him that I was sorry it was
not his head that had been knocked off--previous to our going ashore.
'Twas very unchristianlike, but I was very sore with the man for his
pig-headedness, and then he so bewailed the loss of his finger; never
thinking of the fact that the boatswain had all but lost an eye, but had
never even murmured at his hard luck.
*****
My third experience of a “pig-headed” master mariner, followed very
quickly--so quickly, that I began to think some evil star attended my
fortunes, or rather misfortunes.
After living on the island for three months, after the loss of the
brigantine, two vessels arrived on the same day--one, a schooner
belonging to San Francisco, and bound to that port; the other, the
_George Noble_, a fine handsome barquentine, bound to Sydney. Now, it
would have suited me very well to go to California in the schooner,
but finding that the skipper of the wrecked brigantine had arranged
for passages for himself, officers and crew in her, I decided to-go to
Sydney in the _George Noble_, purely because the little man with the
missing finger had become so objectionable to me--brooding over my
losses, and wondering how I could pay my debts--that I felt I could
not possibly remain at close quarters with the man in a small schooner
without taking a thousand pounds worth of damage out of him during the
voyage, which “taking out” process might land me in a gaol with two
years imprisonment to serve. So I bade goodbye to good mate Laird, and
the boatswain with the injured eye, and the native crew who had acted so
gallantly; and then with Levi standing by my side, holding my ponderous
bag of my beloved Mexican dollars in one hand, and a few articles of
clothing in the other, I told Captain ------ that I considered him to
be an anthropoid ape, an old washerwoman, and a person who should be
generally despised and rejected by all people, even those of the dullest
intellects, such as those of the members of the firm who employed him.
And then recalling to my memory the sarcastic remark of the mate of the
_Rimitara_, to the pompous captain of the _Tuitoga_ about the command
of a canal boat, I wound up by adding that he had missed his vocation
in life, and instead of being skipper of a smart brigantine, he
was intended by Providence to be captain of a mud-dredge, for which
position, however, he had probably barely sufficient intelligence.
Feeling very despondent--for I had but nine hundred Mexican and Chilian
dollars to meet a debt of eleven hundred pounds, and had out of this to
keep myself and servant for perhaps six months until I got another start
as a trader, I went on board the _George Noble_ and bargained with her
captain for a passage to Sydney, at which port I knew I could at once
meet with an engagement.
The captain of the _George Noble_ was a very decent and good-natured
German, named Evers. He agreed to take me and my henchman to Sydney for
125 dollars--I to live aft, the boy to go for'ard with the sailors, and
lend a hand in working the ship, if called upon in an emergency. The
vessel, I found, was owned by a firm of Chinese merchants in Sydney, and
carried a Chinese supercargo, but he was the only Celestial on board,
the firm only employing him on account of their having so many Chinese
traders throughout the equatorial islands of the Pacific.
I had not been long on board the _George Noble_ when I discovered that
Evers, who was a fine sailorman and a good navigator as well, was one
of the “pig-headed” kind. His mate, second mate, and carpenter, were
Britishers, as were nearly all the crew, but they and the skipper could
not agree. There was no open rupture--but Evers had the idea that both
his officers and men disliked him because he was a “Dutchman.” Perhaps
this was so, but if it was, the officers and men never showed their
dislike at being commanded by a foreigner--they knew he was a good
seaman, and gave him unvarying respect and obedience. Nevertheless,
Captain Evers never spoke a friendly word to any one of his officers,
and when he had to speak to them, he did so in such a manner of strained
politeness and severity, that it was really unpleasant to hear him.
On our way to Sydney we called at various islands of the Gilbert Group,
and finally went into Apaian Lagoon, where the barquentine had to load
one hundred tons of copra (dried coco-nut). During the time I had been
on board, Evers and myself had become very intimate, and, I am glad to
say, through me, he and his officers became quite friendly with each
other. And we all spent many happy evenings together. But I could see
that Evers was extremely jealous of his second mate's reputation as a
South Sea pilot, and he would very often purposely question him as to
the entrance of such and such a passage of such and such an island,
and then deliberately contradict his officer's plain and truthful
statements, and tell him he was wrong. Foster, a good-humoured old
fellow, would merely laugh and change the subject, though he well knew
that Captain Evers had had very little experience of the navigation
of the South Seas, and relied upon his charts more than upon his local
knowledge--he would never take a suggestion from his officers, both of
whom were old “island” men--especially the second mate.
We loaded the hundred tons of copra, and were ready for sea by nine
o'clock one morning, when a number of large sailing canoes came off,
crowded with natives from a distant part of the island, all anxious to
buy firearms and ammunition in view of a great expedition against the
adjacent island of Tarawa. They all possessed either plenty of money
or copra, and Evers did a remarkably good, though illegal business, and
sold them over a hundred rifles. By the time they had finished, however,
it was past one o'clock, and I concluded that we could not leave the
lagoon till the following morning. To my surprise, and the second mate's
open-mouthed astonishment, the skipper, who was highly elated with his
morning's trading, told the mate to clear the decks, and get ready to
heave up.
“Why, he's mad!” said the second officer to me.
Now I must explain: Apaian Lagoon is a vast atoll completely enclosed on
the eastern and southern sides by a low, narrow strip of land, densely
covered with coco-palms, and on the northern and western by a continuous
chain of tiny islets connected by the reef. On the western side there
are two narrow ship passages, both exceedingly dangerous on account
of their being studded with numerous coral “mushrooms”--i.e., enormous
boulders of coral rock, which, resembling a mushroom in shape, come to
within a few feet of the surface of the water. Through these passages,
the tide, especially the ebb, rushes with great velocity--six or seven
knots at least--and vessels when leaving the lagoon, generally waited
till slack water, or the first of the flood, when with the usual strong
south-east trades, they could stem the current and avoid the dangerous
“mushrooms.” But no shipmaster would ever attempt either of these
passages, except in the morning, when the sun was astern, and he could,
from aloft, con the ship. After two or three o'clock, the sun would be
directly in his face, and render it almost impossible for him to get
through without striking.
Here then was the position when Evers, cheerfully smoking a cigar, and
smiling all over his handsome face, gave the order to heave up. It was
blowing very strongly, the tide was on the ebb, the sun was directly
in our faces, and we were to tear through a narrow passage at racehorse
speed without being able to see anything.
I ventured to suggest to him that it was a bit late for us to get under
way.
“Not a bit of it. Come along with me up on the foreyard, and you'll see
how the _George Noble_ will skip through.”
We certainly did skip, for before the anchor was secured, we were
dashing westwards for the passage at eight or nine knots, and Evers kept
calling out to the mate to make more sail. By the time we were abreast
of the passage, the _George Noble_ had every stitch of her canvas on
her, and was fairly “humming” along at nearly thirteen knots over the
smooth water, and then when she spun into the narrow passage through
which a seven-knot current was tearing, her speed became terrific, and I
held my breath. The second mate and boatswain were at the wheel, and
the crew were standing by the braces. The silence on board was almost
painful, for the terrible roar of the current as it tore along the coral
walls of the passage, deadened every sound.
“Starboard a little,” shouted Evers to a sailor stationed in the fore
rigging below us, who repeated the order to a man on the rail, who in
turn passed the word aft.
“Steady, there, steady!”
I tried in vain to discern anything ahead of us--the blinding, blazing
sun prevented my seeing aught but a mad seething swirl of water just
beneath our bows, and on each side of us. Evers, however, seemed very
confident.
“We'll be through in another two minutes--” he began, and then came a
terrific shock, and both he and I were jerked off the footrope, and
toppled over the yard on to the bellying foresail!
We both rolled down on top of the windlass, and landed almost in each
others arms, half dazed. I sat down on deck to consider who I was, and
what was the matter, and Evers made a wobbly run aft, the ship still
ripping along, for we had been checked in our mad career for a second or
two only.
In two or three minutes we were outside, and clear of danger, and Evers,
now much subdued, brought to under the lee of the reef, and anchored.
Then we lowered a boat, and made an examination of the ship for'ard.
Nothing was wrong with her above her water-line, but three feet further
down her stem was smashed into a pulp, and bits of timber kept coming
to the surface every now and then. An hour later we had nine inches of
water in the hold, and the consequence of Evers's pig-headedness was
that we had to keep the pumps going day and night, every two hours, till
we rigged a windmill, which was kept going till we reached Sydney.
Six months later, the local trader of Apaian wrote to me, and told me
that Evers “has improved the passage into the lagoon very much. You ran
smack into a big mushroom, standing up right in the middle, and broke it
off short, about fifteen feet below the surface. Hope the _George Noble_
will do the same thing next time.”