REPAIRING DAMAGES
The old _Grampus_, all unknowing of the hopes and fears and aches and
pains she bore, rolled uneasily throughout that terribly long night. To
tell the exact truth, she was often left entirely to herself, existing
only by the good will of the elements or any passing ship. In much the
same condition as the remnant of a beaten army, whose outposts, weary
to death, fall down and sleep weltering in mud and blood because poor
human nature has said her last word, the broken mate lay sleeping,
his fractured leg, benumbed from heel to thigh, straightened out, and
his utterly worn-out body not disturbing it by a single movement.
The battered men below in the stifling reek of the foc’s’le also lay
asleep (blessed be God for sleep and death), utterly unconscious of
their woes. The shipkeepers, whom a sense of duty kept, desperate as
their need was, from sleeping too long at one spell, lay in uncouth
attitudes about the moonlit deck. Occasionally one of them would rise
and aimlessly rove aft to the binnacle, gaze into its glittering oval
with eyes that distinguished not North from South, and then with
another owl-like glance aloft would stagger forward and tumble down
asleep again. And the missing ones, six stalwart men who yesterday
morning were each a centre of activity and private hopes, desires, and
possibilities? At any rate their rest would be long and sound.
Priscilla woke about midnight, and looked uneasily about her. The
almost stifling atmosphere of the tiny cabin, the reek of the lamp,
and the innumerable exhalations from below, made the place almost
unbearable. And as with a feeling of nausea overpowering her she
surveyed her prison, there came to her, like a voice from a previous
life, the most vivid recollection possible of the sweet breath stealing
over the fields of her old home; of the careless days when singing she
went about her household work; of the many delights brought by the
changing seasons, each with its own particular charm; yes, even the
hard, bitter winters when all the land was held in a grip of steel, and
only amusement, out of doors, seemed possible. That seemed to her like
a glimpse of paradise, from which, by her own act and because she did
not value its joys, she had been shut out: she had exchanged it for
this. And her eyes filled, her heart swelled with self-pity, regret,
repentance, until suddenly a hoarse murmur by her side resolved itself
into: Pris, whar air ye?’
Immediately she was recalled to present realities. Swift as thought she
had asked and received strength, and leaning over her helpless husband,
she said, quite tenderly, ‘Yes, dear, I am here. What can I do for
you?’ Apparently ignoring her gentle question, he muttered savagely but
disconnectedly, ‘What’s th’ matter? whar’s everybody? what’s doin’?
call th’ mate.’ I do not see any necessity for indicating the stream
of fantastic blasphemies which followed, apparently to emphasise his
demand for information. They made her shrink, as does a delicate skin
upon meeting a cold blast; but as soon as she was able she said, ‘The
mate has been badly hurt, Ramon, but I can call the second mate if
you will. He can explain so much better than I can what has happened.’
‘Well, whyn’t yew call him, then? Kain’t ye see, yo’ pulin’ idiot,
’at I want t’ know--t’ _know_, d’ ye hear?’ More horrible emphasis,
in the midst of which Priscilla crept from the cabin, and, going to
the companion, rung a little handbell, an agreed signal for summoning
the steward. That worthy man was lapped in profoundest slumber by
the side of the galley, but at almost the first tinkle of the little
bell he sprang to his feet, and, hastening to the companion, listened
breathlessly to his mistress’s orders (he called them so, but they
sounded more like entreaties).
As soon as he understood them he departed, and returning in two minutes
announced to Priscilla that he had succeeded in arousing the second
mate, who was coming immediately. Receiving Priscilla’s instructions to
keep handy in case she wanted anything, he retired to the lee-side of
the skylight and waited. In about a minute the second mate appeared,
still heavy with sleep (the deep sleep of utter exhaustion from which
he had been aroused), and lumberingly made his way down into the
darksome cabin. Tapping gently at the skipper’s state-room door, he
was greeted with a torrent of oaths, and understood that if he didn’t
hurry in nameless consequences awaited him. Trembling in every limb, he
instantly obeyed, and presently stood beside his commander’s couch like
an utterly abject coward. Yet he was, as we have seen, nothing less
than a hero. His deeds on the preceding day were those of a man who
counted the preservation of his own life but a very little thing, if
haply he might save some of his shipmates from death. In the midst of
those aggressive monsters he did not quail, but led his men on to deeds
as noble as any that have ever been recorded--yet here he stood abashed
and quivering before a helpless man morally as much his inferior as it
was possible for a man to be. Mystery of mysteries, and one that men
have never yet taken sufficient account of, even with the stupendous
object-lesson of that utterly contemptible animal, but supereminent
commander of men, Napoleon, before their eyes. The meanest soldier
of Napoleon’s armies was a greater hero than he; but the possession
of that awful power of domination enabled this utter egotist, this
unutterable cad, to rule Europe and send to sordid deaths rejoicingly
hundreds of thousands of men, most of whom were in a moral and physical
sense immeasurably superior to himself.
Thus Mr. Winslow stood before his skipper, who, glaring up at him with
an expression of fiercest contempt in his black eyes, demanded of him
why he had not reported before the doings of that disastrous day.
Falteringly, as if personally to blame for the skipper’s incapability
of receiving any information before, Mr. Winslow began his melancholy
narration. His nervousness, coupled with a most excusable desire to
make the best account he could of an exceedingly bad job, caused him at
times to be almost unintelligible, and subjected him to the fiercest
abuse from the skipper. But this incitement had one good effect. It
tended to brevity of account, and in ten minutes there was little left
to tell. For a moment or two after he ceased speaking there was a dead
silence, through which the ceaseless wash of the watchful waves outside
against the topsides could be felt rather than heard.
Then suddenly the skipper spoke again. ‘’Spose ye’re all hard at it
repairin’ damages, hey?’ ‘Well, sir,’ stammered the officer, ‘ye see,
sir----’ ‘Give _me_ none o’ yer lyin’ backin’ an’ fillin’, y’ lazy
hog, ’r I’ll----’ He got no further. All Mr. Winslow’s manhood came
to his assistance, breaking through the mysterious bonds that had held
him so long. With all his nervousness gone, he made one stride nearer
the skipper, a dangerous light gleamed in his blue eyes, and he said:
‘Stop right thar, Cap’n Da Silva. Ther’ ain’t a man aboard this ship
but wut’s done his duty like a man, an’ no one could ha’ done any
better. We’re all nearly dead with fightin’ fag, all ’cept me sleepin’
w’ere we fell down, an’ some of us is broke up so in body ’at it’ll
be months before we’re fit again. An’ you dare t’ lie there ’n’ speak
t’ me ov lyin’ and laziness. Say it again, an’ jes’ ’s if yew wuz any
other varmint I’ll choke th’ life outen ye where ye lie.’ He wound up
with a terrible oath. But Priscilla rose and confronted him, her grave
eyes looking unnaturally large in the whiteness of her face. ‘Go on
deck, Mr. Winslow,’ she said; ‘you forget yourself. The Captain is very
ill and irritable, and cannot be held responsible for what he says.’
Without a word the second mate bowed his head and departed, leaving her
alone to face the fiendish malice of her husband, who, as soon as his
officer had departed, turned upon her and exhausted even his perverted
ingenuity in abuse.
Strange to say, this bad exercise seemed to improve his bodily
condition, for in about an hour, during which Priscilla waited on him
with the utmost care and in as perfect a silence as if she were stone
deaf to his shameful words, he ordered her to assist him to dress. When
she had done so he staggered to the state-room door, rudely thrusting
aside her proffered arm, and dragged himself on deck. As soon as he was
gone from the room she prayed with all her heart on her lips for peace,
filled with pity for the poor men above now that their tyrant was
unloosed again. A hoarse cry of pain sent a thrill of sympathy through
her, but she _would_ not be distressed, believing that in some way she
would have a satisfying answer to her prayer.
On deck the skipper, his cold heart full of malicious intent, had
stumbled over the body of the steward lying by the side of the cabin
skylight, and kicking savagely at the prostrate man had aroused him to
an immediate sense of his peril. Scrambling to his feet, the frightened
black man was slinking below, when the hoarse command of the skipper to
‘Come here’ arrested him, and he obeyed with shaking knees. ‘Whar’s the
helmsman?’ demanded the Captain. ‘I d’ no, sah,’ pleaded the steward.
‘I’ll go see, sah.’ ‘Stop right whar y’ air, will ye?’ was the fierce
answer, and in the dim light of the binnacle the steward saw the
skipper’s hand go to his hip-pocket, produce something that glittered,
and immediately a couple of shots rang out startlingly through the
quiet night. At that dread summons men began to appear from all around,
first of them all the second mate, with wild inquiry in his eyes. ‘Mr.
Winslow,’ snarled the skipper, whose voice was growing stronger with
each word he spoke, ‘call all hands t’ make sail. A hand ’t th’ wheel
at once.’ By this time all those who were able to do so had mustered,
and with the instinctive habit of obedience, as if all recollection of
their recent interview had disappeared from his mind, the second mate
replied in his usual tone, ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ then roaring, ‘All hands
make sail, loose taups’ls ’n t’gallants’ls fore and aft. Clear away
stays’ls, jib, ’n’ spanker. Naow git a move on yerselves, d’ ye hear?’
There was a rush to obey, for all felt somehow that their brief season
of relief from the skipper’s oversight had come to an end, and as they
disappeared in different directions with their old frantic haste, the
skipper said to the second mate in a voice that could not be overheard
by any other: ‘See hyar, Mr. Winslow, fur what yew said to me to-night
I’ll pay ye full price an’ interest, ef it takes me all this voy’ge.
But fur now yew go scot free ’cause I need yer assistance, ’n’ I hain’t
goin’ t’ hev enny limejuicer rot of bullyin’ my officers ’fore the men
an’ destroyin’ disciplin’. Only ef thar’s enny sign ov ye playin’ it on
me, wall, yew’ll hev to shoot quick ’r yew’ll be a goner. I’m heeled
an’ I’m watchin’ fur ye.’ Again the second mate replied steadily, ‘Aye,
aye, sir,’ and almost instantly after his shouts of ‘Sheet home fore
taups’l, sheet home mizen taups’l, histe away stays’ls,’ &c., made the
solemn night hideous.
A low groan a little forward of where the skipper stood caused him to
move that way, and, stooping, he found the mate, who had been aroused
to a miserable consciousness of bone-wrenching pain by the clamour
around him. Stooping towards him, the skipper said in a grating tone,
‘Wall, ’n’ wut’s wrong with yew? Whyn’t yew gettin’ abaout yer dooties?
Pretty fine condition yew’ve let the ship git into in a few days.’
Pausing as if for a reply, and receiving none, the skipper went on,
‘What in thunder yew lyin’ thar fur? Don’t ye know it’s “all hands”?’
‘Kain’t move, sir,’ came slowly from the mate’s parched lips, as if
dragged thence by torture, ‘fur me right arm an’ leg seem’s if they wuz
one big pain. Fact, I seem to be all raw on thet side of me. _Kain’t_ I
hev a drink o’ water, sir?’ ‘Wall, I guess yew kin. Here, boy!’ to one
of the younger men hastening across the deck, ‘give the mate a drink of
water, an’ look slippy.’ The skipper looked on while the unfortunate
man drank as if his poor throat had been a bed of unslaked lime. Then
he said, ‘I guess yew wun’t du any wuss till daylight, ’n’ I’ll be
all th’ better fit to see wut kin be done with ye. But yew’ve made a
hell ov a mess ov th’ cruise, naow, ain’t ye?’ The sufferer drew in
his breath sharply as this mental blow was added to all his physical
sufferings, but he did not--indeed, he could not--answer. The merciful
climax of suffering was reached, the broken human machinery protested
vainly to the surcharged brain, and Mr. Court, relapsing into blessed
insensibility, passed into a place where neither the malignity of man
nor the liabilities of the body could trouble him.
The Captain strode away muttering until he stood by the wheel and
gazed into the face of the compass. He was revolving in his mind the
possibilities of fetching the Cape Verde Islands, as they were now on
the edge of the Doldrums, those neutral latitudes between the trade
winds that are such a sore trial to the patience of sailing-ship
masters. Only a gentle zephyr was stirring, like the last breath of
the departing N.E. trade winds, and it was rather a serious question
to decide whether to struggle eastward to Brava, or keep on southward,
doing all the repairs possible until reaching Rio de Janeiro. One thing
only was needed to turn the scale--the personal touch. And it availed.
He knew the place so well; although he had not been born there, much
of his youth had been spent there, and he was sure not only of getting
a few fresh hands who would be devoted to himself, but there would not
be the faintest opportunity given for any one of his remaining crew
to desert. So he gave a muttered order to the helmsman, followed by a
shout of ‘Square away the mainyard,’ as the old ship fell off the wind.
With his usual skill and alertness he conned her as she slowly wore
round on to the port tack, and to his grim satisfaction he found that
she would head a little to the northward of east, and that the breeze
was even then freshening a little.
By this time the whole of the available canvas had been set, and the
men were busy coiling up the gear. Again the skipper called Winslow
to him, and in a quiet, passionless tone gave him certain orders
concerning the repairing of damage that would keep all hands busy
for some time to come. Then the carpenter and cooper were summoned,
and each received a few vitriolic remarks concerning their so-called
laziness, coupled with a warning that before long they would have paid
very dearly for the advantage they had taken of his helplessness.
Moreover, he told them that, being now quite well again, he was fully
prepared to keep them at their work, if he had to do it at the mouth
of a revolver. They stood perfectly silent and submissive, neither
attempting the faintest justification of himself, and when dismissed
with the contemptuous remark, ‘Naow git t’ hell eout er this, an’ do
some work,’ they turned and slunk away like beaten curs. Both were
Americans of the best type, both were splendid workmen of middle
age, with whose way of performing their duties it would seem utterly
impossible to find any fault, and yet both endured such utterly
undeserved and blistering contumely as this without a word, and, what
is more, without a thought of retaliation. So well had they been
trained in whaleship ways.
Thus having resumed the reins of power in altogether vigorous fashion,
and reasserted his ability to make himself feared as well as obeyed
fore and aft, the skipper went below, growling as he passed the
helmsman, ‘Naow jes’ keep her full an’ bye, an’ ef I hear anythin’
shakin’, by ---- I’ll shake _yew_, till y’ don’ know whether yew’re dead
’r alive.’ The man replied cheerfully in the stereotyped phrase, ‘Aye,
aye, sir,’ relieved beyond measure to find that he should be free of
the presence of his enemy for a little while, at any rate.
The skipper’s first action on getting below was to send for the steward
by ringing his bell, and on the darkey’s immediate appearance to order
some food and coffee to be prepared for himself. Of his wife he took
not the slightest heed. Then going to his medicine-chest he took out
the little book of simple instructions in surgery and medicine that is
always part of the furniture of a ship’s medicine-chest, and, seating
himself at the cabin table, with one hand fiercely tugging at his
black beard, he began to study the chapter on setting broken limbs. A
sardonic smile twitched upwards the corners of his mouth as he imagined
how the poor mate would suffer. There was just a glint of pleasure in
the thought lighting the otherwise beclouded horizon of his mind. When
he had settled to his own satisfaction the course of his operations
upon his mate (fancy learning to set a broken arm and leg in an hour!),
he sulkily called to his wife, ‘Here, you, git me some bandages ready,
an’ be quick abaout it.’ She, watching for his lightest word, came on
the instant, and quietly asked how long and how wide he wanted them.
Even this essential question seemed to afford him an opportunity of
venting more of his spleen upon her, but wearying of that soon (indeed,
he was as yet far from strong), he supplied the information, and
went on with his studies. Then lying down upon the transom locker he
composed himself to sleep, well satisfied with his watches work.
On deck the ship hummed like a hive. Even the men who had been so
badly bruised that the most elementary exercise of humanity would
have allowed them to rest, dragged themselves wearily up out of
the forecastle, and did whatever they could do towards the general
refitment which was going on. Some were hoisting on deck coils of
‘tow-line,’ the beautiful rope which is fastened to the harpoons;
others were taking the superfluous turns out of it, and stretching it
by passing it through a block as high as the topgallant crosstrees,
and coiling it again and again the reverse way of the lay. Others,
again, were fitting harpoons to poles, and securing to them their
bridles of tow-line; others were doing the same to lances, or putting
keen edges on new weapons. Several, under the carpenter’s orders, were
working away at the repairing of the one boat which had been picked
up, sawing timbers and planks, and carefully unriveting broken knees
from splintered skin. Two men were assisting the cooper to make new
line-tubs. And amidst it all Mr. Winslow moved alert, with eyes like
a cat’s, unhindered by the encompassing darkness, but for all that
earnestly desirous of the day.
Unto these toilers at last came the blessing of light, bringing with
it a certain satisfaction, as it always does, to those who have been
working in the dark, but also sadly associated with the idea that the
skipper would soon be on deck among them. Every now and then one of
them would glance furtively aft in search of his dreaded appearance,
and, relieved temporarily by the assurance that he was not yet among
them, would renew energetically his efforts to accomplish his task.
Suddenly all hands were startled by his voice, all its old vigour
having returned, shouting, ‘Mr. Winslow.’ The second mate immediately
hurried aft, and saying inquiringly, ‘Yes, sir,’ awaited his orders.
‘Clear away the carpenter’s bench, an’ bring it aft here!’ snarled the
Captain. ‘Pedro, Bibra, come here.’ The carpenter’s bench having been
placed on the fore side of the skylight, athwart the deck, the steward
made his appearance, carrying the bandages and certain bottles, also
some pieces of rough but thin boards, just portions of canned meat
cases with the nails drawn, split to necessary narrowness, and cut
in proper lengths. At an order from the Captain, the two Portuguese
harpooners lifted the still insensible body of the mate on to the
bench, and began to bare his broken limbs, a most difficult task, owing
to their having become glued to the clothing with dried blood.
This operation roused him at once from his stupor, and with groans
that shook his whole frame his glazed eyes opened. He muttered feebly,
‘For God’s sake go easy: ain’t I sufferin’ enough?’ But a glance at
the skipper showed these rough attendants that, even had they been
inclined to yield to the mate’s prayer, and ‘go easy,’ they dare not,
so, disregarding his agony, they persevered, and after dragging and
slitting and soaking his clothes, succeeded at last in exposing the
leg and arm, each with fragments of bone protruding through the torn
and swollen flesh. By the time this had been done the mate could only
feebly gasp, ‘Water! water!’ and the steward, with a fearful glance at
the skipper for permission, put a pannikin full to his cracked lips.
Then with a corner of the towel he carried he was about to wipe the
sweat from the mate’s drawn face, but an execration from the skipper
caused him to scuttle back into his place like a frightened rabbit.
The operation began, and really it is questionable whether the utter
callousness and brutality of the operator were not more merciful to the
sufferer than the tender, half-afraid manipulations of a kindhearted
and unskilful man would have been. For in any case much pain had to
be endured, and, as I have before noted, the human body can only feel
a certain amount. When that has been borne, whatever you may have to
endure does not matter in the least as far as your consciousness of
it goes. It is a comforting thought when reading of the infliction of
ancient tortures. So now, before the mangled arm had been straightened,
the fragments of bone drawn within the swollen muscles, the mate had
again lapsed into insensibility. The attendants glanced fearfully at
the white, set face, and from it to the scowling visage of the skipper,
but dared not utter their fears that the patient was dead. The operator
worked on with a skill amazing to see in one who had never performed
such an operation before, nor had ever seen such a thing done. Without
again referring to his book, without a moment’s hesitation, he placed
the splints, passed the bandages, saturated them with carbolic lotion,
and then, having satisfied himself that, in spite of the ghastly
appearance of the mate’s side, it was only an extensive superficial
laceration--there were no ribs broken--he ordered the two harpooners to
carry the patient to a mattress placed for his reception on the after
corner of the deck behind the tiller, and leave him there. The steward
was given orders to keep an eye on him, and feed him occasionally with
a little soup and bread, and again the skipper retired below.
By this time the meal-hour had arrived--eight bells--and a brief
respite from their labours was enjoyed by all hands. The day was fair
and bright, the wind was steady at about north, and the old ship was
making good progress. So Mr. Winslow sent everybody but the helmsman
to breakfast, and himself came aft and sat beside his brother officer,
full of pity, but oppressed by his own utter inability to do anything
for him. But he had the satisfaction of noting how well the work of
repairing the broken limbs had been done, and, as he was thinking how
even the worst of men sometimes compel our admiration, he was intensely
gratified to see Mr. Court open his eyes and look wearily round. ‘Wall,
haow d’ ye feel abaout it naow, sir?’ said he earnestly. The mate
stifled a groan, and at last managed to reply, ‘Winslow, I’d rather ten
thousan’ times ’a’ died than ben thro’ wut I’ve suffered this laest
twenty-four hours. But I don’t feel’s much pain’s I did, an’ if only
I k’n git a little food ’at I k’n eat I think I sh’ll do. Ole man’s
awful mad, ain’t he?’ Bending his head close down, Winslow gave the
mate a hurried outline of the proceedings since the skipper’s return to
command, and wound up by saying, ‘He ain’t said nawthin’ abaout it, but
I believe he’s makin’ fur Cape Verdes. We’re carryin’ all sail to th’
eastward.’ ‘Thank God fur that,’ murmured the mate; ‘thar’ll be some
chance ov seem’ a doctor if I need one by then. Say, Winslow, ef ye k’n
git one o’ th’ fellows t’ give an eye to me now an’ then, I’ll be glad.’
For all answer Winslow patted his cheek, and in response to the
breakfast bell departed below. He and the mate, while respecting each
other, had not been chums in any sense of the word, but the recent
happenings had drawn them very close, this feeling especially affecting
Winslow. And he began to feel as if he could do anything, endure
anything on the mate’s behalf while he was so helpless--yes, even dare
the risk of being shot by the skipper, if he should go too far in his
calculated brutality.