THE EUGENIE.
After being conveyed on board, hot brandy punch was readily
administered to me; all my wet clothes were taken off, and I was put
into a snug berth, the cosy warmth of which, together with the effect
of the steaming punch--"a stiff nor'-wester," as I heard it
called--and the toil and misery, mental and bodily, I had undergone,
all conduced to give me a long and almost dreamless slumber. Thus
the noon of the next day was far advanced before I awoke to the
realities of life and a consideration of the awkward predicament in
which I was placed.
I had been picked up by the _Eugenie_, a new brig of two hundred and
fifty tons register, "coppered to the bends, and standing A1 at
Lloyds," as I was informed by Samuel Weston, her master. He added
that she had a crew of twelve hands, men and boys, exclusive of Marc
Hislop, the mate, and Tattooed Tom, his assistant, and that the brig
had the reputation of being one of the best sailing vessels out of
London.
The morning was fine and warm; the skylight was open, and a pleasant
current of air passed through the clean wainscotted cabin. A
spotless white cloth was on the table, across which there were lashed
certain bars of wood, technically termed a fiddle, to keep the plates
and glasses from falling to leeward; and on looking from my curtained
berth (for I was not permitted to rise), I saw the captain and mate
at lunch over brandy and water, biscuits and cheese; and busy the
while with charts and compasses, as they were comparing their
nautical notes and observations.
The brig seemed to be running steadily through the water upon the
starboard tack, and I could hear the gurgle of the sea under her
counter, as it bubbled away in the wake astern--in fact, the sound
seemed to be just a foot above my ear, realizing the terrible idea
that there was "only a plank between me and eternity."
Captain Samuel Weston was a well-made man of the middle height, and
somewhere about forty years of age. He was rather grave than jovial
in manner, but pleasant, kind, and gentlemanly. There was nothing
about him that particularly indicated the seaman, and he never used
startling adjectives, or according to the proverbial idea interlarded
his conversation with obscure nautical phraseology.
He wore a short pea-coat with brass buttons, and a straw hat. A
handsome gold ring secured his necktie, and the fag-end of a cheroot
was between his teeth. He was exactly portrayed thus in his colored
calotype, which was framed and screwed into the bulkhead. Close by
it was another of a lady, with a little boy, standing at the base of
a column, which of course had a crimson curtain festooned behind it;
and they, I had no doubt, were his wife and child. So Captain
Samuel--or as he preferred to call himself--Sam Weston was more
domestic in his tastes than those who usually live by salt water are
supposed to be.
Neither was there any thing particularly nautical in the appearance
of the mate, who was a smart and athletic young fellow, about
five-and-twenty years of age, with somewhat of a Glasgow accent, keen
gray eyes, and sandy-colored hair; and he it was (though I was not
aware of it then, or for long after) who boldly plunged into the
stormy sea, and swam to the foundering schooner, and finding that I
could neither understand nor obey his instructions, had made a line
fast to my waist, and thus conveyed me safely into the boat; so to
this young Scotsman I owed my life and a debt of gratitude.
On perceiving that I was awake, a hand-bell was rung by the captain,
and hot coffee, accompanied by the last slice of shore-bread that
remained was brought to me by Billy, the cabin-boy, and then, after a
time, I was requested to state what craft that was from which I had
been taken, my name, and so forth, that Mr. Hislop might enter all
the particulars among the "remarks" in his log-book.
I soon satisfied them as to all this.
"And where am I now?" I inquired.
"Pretty far out upon the open sea, my lad," replied the captain with
a smile, as he threw the end of his cheroot into the empty grate.
"The open sea--_still_ the open sea!" I reiterated with dismay, which
I cared not to conceal.
"Yes; we saw the last glimpse of the rugged Start on the day before
yesterday, and this morning, just an hour before picking you up, we
bade good-by to old England, for the Lizard Light was bearing--you
had the dead watch, Hislop; how did it bear?"
"About twelve miles off, on the weather quarter."
"How shall I return home?"
They both laughed as I despairingly made this inquiry.
"By the way you left it, I suppose; that is by water," said Captain
Weston.
"You spoke of the Start; what is that?"
"A cape of the Channel, on the south-east coast of Devonshire, about
nine miles to the southward of Dartmouth," he replied, while casting
a casual glance at a chart which lay on the table.
I had thus, before being rescued so providentially, drifted more than
a hundred miles from Erlesmere, and it was marvellous that the
schooner had floated so far unseen.
"That lubberly old Dutchman, Zeervogel, should have made his craft
secure, by mooring her so that the flood-tide could not have floated
her off shore. But," added the captain, laughing, "he may have a
clear case of barratry against you, if you ever return to England."
"Barratry--what is that?" I asked, with a bewildered air.
"A landshark's phrase for running away with a ship--carrying her out
of her course--sinking or deserting her; or doing any thing by which
she may be arrested, detained, or lost."
"But the schooner ran away with me."
"And the sea with you both. Well, what is to be done now? We are
bound for the West Indies, but we may put you aboard the first craft
that passes us, homeward-bound; or you are free to remain, if we
cannot do better for you."
I thought of my mother, of my father, my two sisters; and my heart
was so full of gratitude to Heaven for preserving me to the end, that
I might see and embrace them all again, that I had no words to reply.
After a time I exclaimed--
"Home, home!--let me go home to Erlesmere!"--weeping as I spoke, for
the thought of them all made me a very child again.
The captain and mate exchanged glances of inquiry.
"It's no use piping your eye now, my lad," said the former, coming
toward my berth; "but answer me quietly. You said that your name was
Rodney?"
"Yes."
"And you spoke of Erlesmere; are you a son of old Dr. Rodney, the
rector?"
"Do you know my father, then?" I exclaimed.
"Can't say exactly that I have the honor of being known to him; but I
know of him, right well. Why, Master Rodney, I have sailed your
uncle's ships many a time, and know his gloomy old office in the
city, as well as the buoy at the Nore; so you are as safe and as
welcome aboard the _Eugenie_ as if in the old Rectory-house at home."
This was pleasant intelligence, at all events; but my earnest desire
was to return--a design which was not fated to be speedily gratified.
"The pain which is first felt when the infant branch is first torn
from the parent tree," says Southey, in a passage of great beauty,
"is one of the most poignant we have to endure through life; there
are other griefs which wound more deeply, which leave behind them
scars never to be effaced, which bruise the spirit and sometimes
break the heart,--but never, never do we feel so much the want of
love, and the keen necessity of being loved, as when we are _first_
launched from the haven of our boyhood, into the wide and stormy sea
of life!"
I felt the _wrench_ of this separation in all its intensity for a
time, and longed for the means of returning home; but for several
days we passed only outward bound vessels, or others which were at
such a distance that the task of signalling and speaking with them
would have delayed the _Eugenie_ longer than Captain Weston could
risk. Two that passed near us, when we showed our ensign, replied by
displaying the tricolor of France or the red and yellow bars of
Spain; so there was nothing for me now but to remain contentedly on
board the _Eugenie_, which was bound for Matanzas with a solid cargo
of steam machinery and coal.
The master had no doubt of getting a return freight direct for
London; thus six or eight months might elapse before I could return
to Ellesmere.
My wardrobe was now in the most deplorable condition; but Weston and
Hislop, the first mate, kindly supplied me with all that was
requisite--"clothes and shirts for running rigging," as the latter
said, "with twenty sovereigns for mainstays, which were sure to be
well kept, as we were on board ship."
I gradually became reconciled to the novelty of my situation; I
looked forward hopefully to the time when the sorrow of those I had
left behind would be alleviated, and began to enjoy to the utmost the
prospect of a voyage in a spanking brig to the shores of Cuba.