I did not want to see this Thomas cat drowned before my eyes, for
although he was very black, I could not help noticing that he was
comely.
"Oh," I cried, "come down from off that fearful fence and I will forgive
you, perhaps even take you into favour."
Well, Warlock, strange though it may appear, in three minutes' time this
Thomas cat and I were as good friends as if we had known each other for
years.
"You are very lovely," he said. "Strange how extremes meet, for I have
been told that I am quite ugly. Your coat is snow-white, mine is like
the raven's wing. Your fur is long and soft and silky, my hair is short
and rough, and there are brown holes burned in it here and there, where
sailors have dropped the ashes from their pipes. You are doubtless as
spotless in character as you are in coat; but--well, Shireen, the cook
has sometimes hinted to me that as far as my ethics are concerned I--I
am not strictly honest. Sometimes the cook has hinted that to me by
word of mouth, at other times, Shireen, with a wooden ladle."
"But come," he added, "let me show you round the ship."
"May I ask your name," I said; "you already know mine?"
"My name is Tom."
"A very uncommon name, I daresay."
"Well--yaas. But there _are_ a few English cats of that name, as you
may yet find out. My last name is Brandy. Tom Brandy, [Tom Brandy is a
sketch from the life] there you have it all complete. Sounds nice,
doesn't it?"
"It does, indeed. Has it any meaning attached to it?"
"Well, then, it has. Brandy is a kind of fluid that some sailors
swallow when they go on shore. They have often tried to make me take
some, but I never would with my free will. It turns men into fiends,
Shireen. For in a short time after they swallow it they appear to be
excellent fellows, and they sing songs and shake hands, and vow to each
other vows of undying love and affection. But soon after that they
quarrel and fight most fiercely, and often take each other's lives, as I
have known them to do in the camps among the miners out in Australia,
where I was born."
"Oh, have you been in a real mine, Tom?"
"Yes, I first opened my eyes at the diggings."
"Oh, how lovely! Was it at Golconda. I have heard Beebee, my mistress,
read about Golconda in a book. And were there rubies and diamonds and
amethysts all lying about, and gold and silver?"
"Not much of that, Shireen. My bed was a grimy old coat, belonging to
one of the miners. My home was a wet and dark slimy hole, and the
miners were not very romantic. They were as rough as rough could be.
Any sailor you see here would look like a prince beside a miner. But
though as rough as any of them, my master, a tall red man, with a long
red beard, was kind-hearted, and for his sake I stayed in camp longer
than I would otherwise have done.
"When I was old enough to catch my first rat the miners crowded round
me, and said they would baptise me in _aguardiente_; that was the fiery
stuff they were drinking, and so they did. Some of it got into my eyes
and hurt them very much. That is how I was called Tom Brandy.
"Another day, when I was grown up, they forced some spoonfuls of brandy
and water down my throat, and by-and-bye I seemed to get out of my mind.
I walked round the camp and challenged every other he cat in the place,
and fought almost as bad as a miner.
"I was always death on dogs, Shireen, but that night there wasn't a dog
anywhere about that I did not try to swallow alive, for I believed
myself to be as big as an elephant. My master found me at last, and
kindly took me home and laid me on his old coat in the corner, and I
soon fell sound asleep, but, oh, Shireen, when I awoke next day my head
and eyes were fit to burst with pain.
"Then, by-and-bye, there came a parson to our camp, and my master would
walk miles to hear the preaching, and I always went with him. When
there were many dogs about master used to lead me with a string, but he
never chained me up in his house, as some miners did with their big
cats. It is cruel to chain a dog even, but much more cruel to chain a
cat.
"Well, master was what they call a rolling stone; one of the sort that
don't gather moss, you know. So he often changed camp. It took us two
days and nights sometimes to get to the new camp, and I travelled all
the way in an old gin case.
"Poor master!"
"Did he die?" said I.
"Well, it was like this. Often and often on lovely moonlit nights,
Shireen, master and I would sit in the door of the hut where he lived
out among the bush and scrub, and he would speak to me of his far-off
home in England, and of his young wife and children that he was trying
to dig gold for.
"`It is that,' he told me once, `which makes me so restless, Tom. I
want to get money. I want to get home to them, pussy, and I'll take you
with me and we'll be so happy.'
"And he would smooth my head and sing to me of the happy time that was
coming when we should get home with wealth and riches.
"`When the wild wintry wind
Idly raves round our dwelling,
And the roar of the linn
On the night breeze is swelling;
So merrily we'll sing,
As the storm rattles o'er us,
Till the dear shieling [a cottage] ring
With the light lilting chorus.'"
"But, ah! Shireen, that happy time never came, for one sad night, at
the stores, a quarrel arose about something, and next moment the noise
of pistol-shooting rang out high above the din of voices.
"There was a moment or two of intense stillness, and my master fell back
into the arms of a friend.
"`Oh, my dear wife and bairns!' That was all master had breath to say
before his death-blood rose and choked him.
"They told me I nearly went wild with grief, that I jumped upon his
breast and cried and howled. Well, perhaps I did. I forget most of
what happened. Only I know they buried him next day, and I sat on the
grave for days, refusing to leave it. Then I wandered off to Melbourne.
I thought if I could only get home and find master's wife, and
children, I might be a comfort to them. But this was impossible.
"Well, I stayed for some months in Melbourne, just a waif and a stray,
you know, begging my bread from door to door. Then the _Venom_, the
very ship we are now on, Shireen, lay in, and when walking one night
near the docks, a sailor came singing along the street. He looked so
good and so brown and so jolly that my heart went out to him at once,
and I spoke to him.
"`Hullo!' he cried, `what a fine lump of a cat. Why, you _are_ thin
though, Tom.'"
"How did he know your name?" said I.
"Oh, just guessed it, I suppose.
"`How thin you are!' he says. `Well, on board you goes with me, and you
shall be our ship's cat, and if any man Jack bullies you, why they'll
have to fight Bill Bobstay.' And that is how I came to be a ship's cat,
my lovely Shireen."
"Nobody objected to your being on board, I suppose," said I.
"Well, I don't know, for you see, next day was Sunday, and seeing they
were rigging up a church on the main deck, I went and sat down by the
parson very demure-like, as I had sat beside poor master in the miners'
camp.
"Then, after church, the first lieutenant asked the men, who brought the
cat on board. But of course nobody knew.
"`Throw him overboard,' cried the lieutenant.
"`No, no,' said the captain. `That will never do, Mr Jones. The poor
cat is welcome to his bite and sup as long as he likes to stop with us,
whoever brought him on board.'
"Then a man in the ranks saluted.
"`Did you want to say anything?' said Captain Beecroft.
"`Well, sir,' said the man, `I wouldn't like any of my pals to be blamed
for a-bringing of Tom from shore, 'cause _I_ did, and you may flog me if
you like.'
"`No, no, my man, instead of flogging you I'll forgive you. I like my
men to be bold and outspoken just as you are.'
"And from that day to this, three long years, Shireen, I've been ship's
cat to the saucy _Venom_, and, what is more, I like it.
"Now, if you please, I'll take you forward, and you can see the men's
quarters."
"What are those three trees growing on the lid of the ship for, Tom?" I
asked.
"Those are not trees, Shireen," he answered; "those are what they call
ship's masts, and you must not say the lid of the ship, but the deck."
"Thank you, Tom. And are those sheets hung up yonder to dry, Tom?"
"Oh, no, those are the ship's sails. They carry the vessel along before
the wind when the steam isn't up. Look down into that hole, Shireen.
Take care you don't fall. Do you see all those clear glittering shafts
and cranks and things? Well, those are the engines. Keep well away
from them when they begin to move, else you might tumble in and be
killed in a moment."
"How strange and terrible!" I said.
Well, children, Tom took me everywhere all over the ship, and even
introduced me to the men.
"My eyes, Bill," said one man, "here's a beauty. Did you ever see the
like of her before? White's the snow; long coat and eyes like a
forget-me-not. Stand well back, Bill. Don't smoke over her. She
belongs to that soldier officer, and I'll warrant he wouldn't like a
hole burned in that beautiful jacket she wears."
But oh, children, for many weeks I thought ship-life was about the most
awkward thing out, for when it isn't blowing enough to send the vessel
on through the water, then, you know, they start the mill and the
rattling wheels, and your poor life is nearly shaken out of you, while
the blacks keep falling all about, and if a lady has a white coat like
mine, why--why it won't bear thinking about. And if it does blow,
Warlock, well, then it is too awkward for anything, and sometimes it was
about all Tom Brandy could do to hang out, although his claws were
sharper and stronger far than mine.
But long before we reached the city of Zanzibar I was, I think, quite as
good a ship's cat as Tom Brandy himself.
I'll never forget, however, the first day Tom took me aloft.
We went as far as the maintop, and there we sat together talking for
quite an hour.
"Hullo!" said Tom at last, "there goes eight bells and the bugle for
dinner; come on, Shireen."
Tom began to go down at once, but lo! when I looked over my heart grew
faint and my head felt giddy, and I wouldn't have ventured after Tom for
anything.
"No, no, Tom," I cried, "save yourself. Never mind me."
"Why, there is no danger," he answered. "Only you mustn't try it head
first as if you were coming out of a tree, but hand after hand, thus."
And Tom soon disappeared.
I sat there till the shades of evening began to fall. Tom, however,
hadn't quite forgotten me, for he brought me up the breast of a chicken.
After I had partaken of it: "Will you try to come down now, Shireen?" he
said.
"No, Tom," I replied. "I shall end my days up here. I--"
I said no more. For at that moment a rough red face appeared over the
top.
It was the honest sailor-man who had brought Tom Brandy on board, and he
soon solved the difficulty by taking me down under his arm.
But I gained confidence after this, and was soon able to run up even to
the top-gallant crosstrees, and come down again feet first, and hand
after hand, just like Tom Brandy himself.
I'll never forget the first day I heard the guns go off. Tom told me it
was nothing. That we were merely chasing a slave-ship, and that the
moment she lay to our brave sailors would board her, and very soon make
an end of the Arabs.
Tom and I had crept into the largest gun that day, having found the
tompion out. She was called a bow-chaser, whatever that may be, and she
stood on a pivot away forward. The sun had been fearfully hot that
forenoon, but Tom came aft to the quarter-deck, where I was lying
panting, with my mouth open.
"Very hot, isn't it?" said Tom.
"I feel roasting," I replied.
"Well, follow me," he said. "I know where it is dark and cool enough
for anything. The tompion is out of the 56-pounder."
"Whatever do you mean? What is a tompion, Tom? And what is a
56-pounder?"
"Come on and see, Shireen."
Then we went to the gun.
"Follow your leader," cried Tom, and in he crawled and soon was lost to
view.
"But why, Tom?" I cried; "it must be dirty as well as dark. I'm afraid
of soiling my coat."
Tom looked out of the gun to laugh.
"Oh, Shireen!" he said, "the idea of a Royal Navy gun being dirty. I
wonder what the gunner would say if you told him?"
So, half ashamed of myself, I jumped in. It was delightfully nice and
cool, and so my companion and I fell sound asleep.
I was awakened before Tom by a voice. "Can't load the bow-chaser, sir.
Cats have both gone to sleep in it, and I can't get 'em out."
"Stick in a fuse," cried the lieutenant, "and rouse them out."
Immediately after there was a rang-bang let off behind us, and Tom and I
were blown clean out of the gun.
We weren't hurt, Warlock, for we both alighted on our feet; but, my blue
eyes! I did get a scare.
Tom said that was nothing. He often went to sleep in the gun, and, as
to being blown out with a fuse, it didn't even singe one, and was
quicker than walking.
But when the battle began in earnest, and the first gun went off, I
bolted aft with my tail like a bottle-brush, and dived down below.
I tore in through the wardroom, and did not consider myself safe until I
got into my master's bed.
The battle didn't last long. Tom told me it was only a small slaver.
But she was captured, and towed astern, and Tom said there was some talk
of hanging one or two of the Arabs, but I didn't know anything about
this. I was very pleased the fight was over.
Three slaves were brought on board. One was a little boy, with no more
clothes on than a mermaid. And he was so black, children, that when he
crawled up and put his arms round my neck, I quite expected to see a
black ring round me next time I looked in the glass.
But the blackness didn't come off.
Strangely enough, this poor little black child and I grew very great
friends indeed.
I think that by this time, however, there wasn't an officer or man in
the ship, fore or aft, that didn't love me very much.