THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
That night we were compelled to heave to, for the waves were almost
sinking us. At two o'clock in the morning my chum was to relieve me at
the wheel. He was rather slow about doing it, too, as it was very
comfortable for him in the galley. I was about played out holding the
helm hard down, there being no steerage-way, as we were drifting to the
leeward. Our object was to keep the vessel head on to the seas as nearly
as possible, so as to ride over them as they came along. So much guano
had been taken from the forehold that it caused the brig to settle by
the stern and raise the forward part up, consequently every time the bow
dipped into a wave the water which came over would rush aft on the deck,
strike the taffrail, and give the man at the wheel a good shower-bath.
That happened every few minutes. Between drenchings we had the cold
wind for a variety. The ship's clock was in the cabin skylight, visible
to the helmsman, whose duty it was to strike the bell one stroke for
every half hour. At four bells he was to be relieved; at eight bells the
watches would change; thus it would be four hours on deck and four hours
below until we arrived in port. Now I had been watching the clock very
anxiously for two hours, my whole body stiff and numb with the cold and
wet. Nearly a half hour after the right time, my friend Jimmy very
reluctantly made his appearance. I waited until he had hold of the wheel
and then I chided him in very impolite language. When I had said
everything that I could think of to hurt his feelings I stopped. In the
meantime I was holding on to a rope and sharing the shower-baths with
him. It helped to loosen my jaws, at any rate, even if it did no other
good.
The cook's galley is a small house built on deck, in size about four by
six feet, with a sliding door on each side, the one to windward being
always kept shut except in very fine weather. Now I was hustling along
as fast as my stiff joints would allow me to get into the galley. There,
at least, I would be sheltered from the cold winds. I had got inside and
was turning to close the door, when I saw a sight which simply paralyzed
me. A large full-rigged ship with squared yards, all sails set, even to
the royals and studding-sails rigged out on both sides, was coming
straight for us, and distant only a few hundred yards. Our brig, being
hove to, was helpless to get out of the way. Certain destruction seemed
inevitable, with no possible hope of escaping a speedy death. I yelled
out at the top of my voice, "A ship on the lee beam!" Jimmy, at the
wheel, got a glimpse of the ship, and let out a yelp that brought the
mate on deck. The mate, who had been loafing in the cabin and shirking
his duty, also did some tall yelping when he saw our danger. There was
no chance to get on our knees to pray then. The decks were too wet and
slippery, besides, we had to use our hands to keep from being washed
overboard. As we could not do the proper thing in orthodox style, we
did some tall cursing, as being the next best thing under the
circumstances. Swearing is a sailor's balm for many ills.
We were terribly excited; only a few seconds and all would be over with
us. Our brig was drifting north at the rate of three miles an hour. The
strange vessel was heading south in that gale and with all sails set;
she should have been racing through the water at a twenty-knots rate.
You can imagine our surprise when we observed that the other vessel was
rapidly going backward and disappearing in a hazy mist. Suddenly there
was a break in the clouds, and we had a glimpse of the full moon for a
few minutes, for the first time in several weeks, although the nights
were nearly twenty hours in length. Soon we were in darkness again. That
was our first experience with the ship Flying Dutchman. The whole affair
had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that we had no time to think.
The idea of a ship carrying all sail in that gale was ridiculous, but to
sail dead against the wind was still more so. We were very much
disgusted with ourselves for being so badly fooled, but, at the same
time, we were a greatly scared lot of sailors. The explanation was
simple enough. The clouds were black and heavy, flying low down near the
water. A rift in them allowed the moon to shine dimly between the edges
and cause the illusion. A few nights afterward we were running before
the wind. All hands were close-reefing the main top-sail. Off the port
bow we saw what appeared to be a ship on fire. Our course was altered to
that direction, and it proved to be the old Dutchman again. At last the
gale from the south broke up. We had got into the "pamperos"--westerly
winds from Buenos Ayres. The days were increasing in length, and the
weather became much warmer. The wind being on our beam, we could steer
straight, compared with what we had been doing before the wind. Besides,
the heavy rolling and lurching had diminished greatly. The effect of
heavy cargo, so much below the water-line, was greatly counteracted by
the wind striking us sideways. Going before the wind, the old brig
rolled terribly at times--so much so that we often expected the masts
to be snapped off, on account of the sudden jerking from side to side.
The forecastle was always wet and muddy, and, while eating, we would sit
on a chest, holding our pans in our laps, a cup in one hand, and
conveying the food to our mouths with the other, with both heels firmly
braced on the deck. Time and again an extra lurch would send us
a-sliding to the other side, bang against a chest or bunk, the food
flying in every direction. Back and forth we would go a dozen times
before we could stop. The sulphur and brimstone would hang in festoons
from the deck beams by the time we had stopped cursing the old brig.
On the first clear day, instead of going to bed in my morning watch
below, eight to twelve in the morning, I went aloft to the fore-top, and
remained there the four hours enjoying the luxury of an airy wind-bath.
It was the first time in nearly three months that my clothing was dry,
and not so very dry then, either. The mates had been throwing out hints
about going into port for repairs. We had passed all the Pacific
harbours, and were doing the same with the Atlantic harbours, when, very
much to our joy, we sighted the Sugar Loaf, a very high conical rock, it
being the southern point of land at the entrance to the harbour of Rio
de Janeiro--River of January--Brazil, South America. So, much to our
joy, we were bound for port. My chum and I were of one mind--that was,
to quit the guano business P. D. Q.
The entrance to the harbour was very narrow and well fortified. There
were steep rocks on each side. We were hailed from one of the forts and
asked the brig's name, destination, and last port. Our sails were
gradually taken in. At last we rounded to and dropped anchor. Rio is
admitted by all sailors to be the finest harbour in the world, and I
will guarantee that our old tub of a brig was the most dilapidated and
dirtiest specimen of the shipbuilder's handicraft that ever anchored in
it. It is a generally well-founded belief among sailors that rats will
desert a sinking ship. We often remarked that a rat had not been seen
on the Grenfalls during the voyage. I must say the rodents made a very
close calculation, if that was the reason for at some time quitting
their cosy quarters. My first act in port was to tie a rope around my
wet blankets and lower them into the water. By swashing them up and down
for awhile, I got considerable of the mud removed. Hanging in the hot
sun, they became dry by evening. So I enjoyed a good night's sleep on
deck. It was quite a contrast from what I had been doing for weeks
past--namely, getting into a soaking wet bed with all my clothes on,
dripping with water, and the sea dropping on me in small instalments
through the leaky decks.
Our worthy captain was an entirely different man from what he was at sea
in the Cape Horn regions. Warm weather, with no danger to be feared,
made quite an improvement in his personal appearance. He was also more
self-important and domineering. The two mates and he were small men,
about five feet two inches in height. The way in which they murdered
the Queen's English was something simply terrible. "Mike, 'ow's 'er
'ead?" was the question often asked at the wheel when they wished to
know the point of the compass I was steering, so as to enter it in the
log-book. The disabled condition of the brig had been reported to the
English consul. He appointed three ship captains to "survey" our vessel,
and report whether it was seaworthy or not. They came on board and
examined everything. We, the sailors, took our knives and showed them
how rotten the remaining bulwarks were, how the decks leaked; in fact,
we did all we could to get the old tub condemned. It was estimated that
one hundred tons of guano had been dumped overboard; however, nothing
was said about the quantity of water that went with it. The captains
looked very wise, but said nothing. Finally, they got into their boats
and returned to shore. My shipmates and myself were in great hope that
the vessel would be condemned as unseaworthy. That meant our release and
three months' extra pay on account of being discharged in a foreign
port. Greatly to our disgust, the report was briefly: "The brig
Grenfalls, with necessary repairs, is fit to continue the voyage."
In a few days we hoisted anchor and sailed up to a small island close to
the city. After considerable trouble we got the old tub fastened to a
small dock. Then we were allowed time to dispose of a mighty poor
dinner. All the remaining guano was to be taken out and placed on the
dock, a job which we did not like. Jim and myself, while eating, had a
quiet talk on the chances of getting our discharge from the vessel. We
both decided to declare war. No more guano work for us! We were eating
our last dinner on that boat, but we did not know it then. The war took
place in earnest, and most unexpectedly. Two explanations are necessary
before I proceed with the narrative. There was an able seaman in the
other watch, more intelligent than the average English sailor. His
vessel had been wrecked on the Pacific coast, and he had shipped with us
in order to return to England and sail in his former employer's service
again. From him I learned some facts in regard to English marine law.
English sailors always carry large jack-knives, a shackle at the butt
end, to which is fastened a lanyard, the latter going around the neck.
The knife, when not in use, is stuck in the waistband of the trousers.
With American sailors, a long knife, carried in a sheath and strapped
around the waist, is the fashion. It is a very necessary and useful
article on shipboard, used in cutting food--there are no forks--scraping
masts, repairing rigging, and so forth. It is always ready for instant
use in case of danger or accident. After dinner we had plenty of work to
do. Towards evening extra lines from the bow and stern were run ashore
and fastened to large rocks. Old canvas was cut in narrow strips and
wound around the ropes in every place where they were liable to chafe on
the sharp stones on the beach. We were still at that work at nine
o'clock, with no sign of supper yet. I made up my mind to quit work, and
had just got on deck when I heard the first mate and Jimmy talking
rather loudly by the cabin door. Too much work and nothing to eat was
the cause of the row. My chum was mad all over. Suddenly the mate caught
him by each wrist and gave his arms a quick, downward jerk. It was an
old trick, and very painful to a person whose arms were hanging down
loosely. In an instant Jimmy had his knife open and made a lunge for the
mate. The lanyard prevented the free action of the knife, but the blade
had scratched the skin on the mate's throat and made a long cut in the
neck of his tight-fitting, heavy knit undershirt. The mate began to run
and yell "Murder!" Around the deck he sprinted, with my chum after him.
Every few steps Jimmy would make a dig at him with the knife, only to
receive himself a jerk in the back of the neck from the lanyard. There
was an old box on the main hatch. Without being noticed by any of us,
our old enemy--the red-headed cook--was standing on it, with an iron
bolt in his hand. The mate took in the situation, though, and, on the
last lap, he crossed the deck at the main hatch. As Jimmy came along,
the cook hit him a whack on the head with the piece of iron that laid
my poor friend on the deck _hors de combat_. The cook had no time to
gloat over his victory. He was howling out, "Wurrah, wurrah!" and made
remarkably quick time for the cabin, landing below without his feet
touching the stairs. A sailor was after him with a sheath-knife minus
the lanyard attachment. Our disabled shipmate was carried forward and
laid on deck. Having no fine Turkish sponges or decorated wash-bowls, we
could not dress his head according to modern style. We did the best we
could, however, which was to lower a bucket over the vessel's side and
fill it with dirty sea water. His head received several good bathings.
The treatment was liberal and heroic, the contents of a full bucket
being dumped on him at a time. It helped to revive him and to wash off
the blood, simultaneously.
At last success rewarded our efforts. The patient sat up. When he had
got the salt water out of his mouth, he wanted to know "what in ---- we
were trying to do with him?" It being nearly ten o'clock, all hands
concluded to have supper. The cook was afraid to come on deck, so we
went to the galley and took all the food in sight. It was carried into
the forecastle. The chandelier--a tin cup full of grease with a rag for
a wick--was trimmed and lighted. Our frugal repast was interrupted by
the captain's sticking his head down the scuttle and inquiring if Jimmy
wanted a bandage and salve for his head. Jimmy very curtly told him to
"Go to ----." The captain was desirous that the crew should desert and
forfeit the money due to them, for he could get other men for one third
of the amount we were getting. Nine dollars a month for ordinary, and
eleven dollars a month for able seamen was the rate in Rio; while our
pay from Callao was twenty-five dollars and thirty-five dollars per
month. My chum and I had about forty dollars due to each of us, and I
intended to get it if possible. The rest of the men wanted to remain on
the vessel on account of the big wages, and the hardest part of the
voyage being over. Immediately after breakfast the next morning Jimmy
and I went aft and called for the captain. We requested permission to
see the English consul, but received an evasive answer. It was to be a
game of bluff beyond all doubt, so my recently acquired knowledge of
marine law was to be tested. I stated plainly to the captain that seamen
were allowed by law to see the consul "if they had any complaints to
make." We demanded to be at once taken to the consul's office, as we
were not satisfied with our food and treatment, and wished for an
investigation. We said that he would have trouble if he refused to
comply with the law. Very reluctantly, he told us to get into the ship's
boat, and we rowed over to the city. On landing, he gave directions to
the consul's office, where, on arriving, we found that the captain had
taken a short cut and got there ahead of us. Consequently the consul
gave us a very cool reception and asked us what we wanted of him. He got
a brief synopsis of the trip around the Cape to commence with, then a
description of the food, next of the short allowance of water; and last,
we charged the captain with ignoring the law in regard to giving each
man the legal allowance of lime-juice a day.[C]
[C] Years ago canned vegetables and fruit were unknown at sea; for
that reason lime-juice was served to the men daily, as a
preventive of scurvy. English vessels were nicknamed
"lime-juicers" on that account.
The captain had considerable to say, himself. At last the consul refused
to discharge us. We were informed that we should have better food for
the future. The captain smiled with satisfaction, for a short time only.
All was not over yet. My last card was to be played and it won. "Well,
Consul, this man and I do not propose to go back to the captain's old
tub. We volunteer for Her Majesty's service!"
The consul laughed, and informed the captain that he would be expected
at the office at two o'clock in the afternoon with our discharges and
the money which was due us.
What clothing we had was badly rotted by the effect of salt water and
guano; therefore we had no reason to return to the Grenfalls for our old
rags. Out of the office we went in high glee. The first sailor I met on
the street gave us directions to a sailors' boarding-house. Portuguese
Joe was the landlord's title. No time was lost in making his
acquaintance. The mere fact that we were two sailors to be paid off that
day was sufficient recommendation.