HE IS PUT INTO THE LARBOARD WATCH; GETS SEA-SICK; AND RELATES SOME
OTHER OF HIS EXPERIENCES
It was now getting dark, when all at once the sailors were ordered on
the quarter-deck, and of course I went along with them.
What is to come now, thought I; but I soon found out. It seemed we were
going to be divided into watches. The chief mate began by selecting a
stout good-looking sailor for his watch; and then the second mate’s
turn came to choose, and he also chose a stout good-looking sailor. But
it was not me;— no; and _I_ noticed, as they went on choosing, one
after the other in regular rotation, that both of the mates never so
much as looked at me, but kept going round among the rest, peering into
their faces, for it was dusk, and telling them not to hide themselves
away so in their jackets. But the sailors, especially the stout
good-looking ones, seemed to make a point of lounging as much out of
the way as possible, and slouching their hats over their eyes; and
although it may only be a fancy of mine, _I_ certainly thought that
they affected a sort of lordly indifference as to whose watch they were
going to be in; and did not think it worth while to look any way
anxious about the matter. And the very men who, a few minutes before,
had showed the most alacrity and promptitude in jumping into the
rigging and running aloft at the word of command, now lounged against
the bulwarks and most lazily; as if they were quite sure, that by this
time the officers must know who the best men were, and they valued
themselves well enough to be willing to put the officers to the trouble
of searching them out; for if they were worth having, they were worth
seeking.
At last they were all chosen but me; and it was the chief mate’s next
turn to choose; though there could be little choosing in my case, since
_I_ was a thirteener, and must, whether or no, go over to the next
column, like the odd figure you carry along when you do a sum in
addition.
“Well, Buttons,” said the chief mate, “I thought I’d got rid of you.
And as it is, Mr. Rigs,” he added, speaking to the second mate, “I
guess you had better take him into your watch;—there, I’ll let you have
him, and then you’ll be one stronger than me.”
“No, I thank you,” said Mr. Rigs.
“You had better,” said the chief mate—“see, he’s not a bad looking
chap—he’s a little green, to be sure, but you were so once yourself,
you know, Rigs.”
“No, I thank you,” said the second mate again. “Take him yourself—he’s
yours by good rights—I don’t want him.” And so they put me in the chief
mate’s division, that is the larboard watch.
While this scene was going on, I felt shabby enough; there I stood,
just like a silly sheep, over whom two butchers are bargaining. Nothing
that had yet happened so forcibly reminded me of where I was, and what
I had come to. I was very glad when they sent us forward again.
As we were going forward, the second mate called one of the sailors by
name:-“You, Bill?” and Bill answered, “Sir?” just as if the second mate
was a born gentleman. It surprised me not a little, to see a man in
such a shabby, shaggy old jacket addressed so respectfully; but I had
been quite as much surprised when I heard the chief mate call him _Mr._
Rigs during the scene on the quarter-deck; as if this _Mr. Rigs_ was a
great merchant living in a marble house in Lafayette Place. But I was
not very long in finding out, that at sea all officers are _Misters,_
and would take it for an insult if any seaman presumed to omit calling
them so. And it is also one of their rights and privileges to be called
_sir_ when addressed—Yes, _sir; No, sir; Ay, ay, sir;_ and they are as
particular about being sirred as so many knights and baronets; though
their titles are not hereditary, as is the case with the Sir Johns and
Sir Joshuas in England. But so far as the second mate is concerned, his
tides are the only dignities he enjoys; for, upon the whole, he leads a
puppyish life indeed. He is not deemed company at any time for the
captain, though the chief mate occasionally is, at least deck-company,
though not in the cabin; and besides this, the second mate has to
breakfast, lunch, dine, and sup off the leavings of the cabin table,
and even the steward, who is accountable to nobody but the captain,
sometimes treats him cavalierly; and he has to run aloft when topsails
are reefed; and put his hand a good way down into the tar-bucket; and
keep the key of the boatswain’s locker, and fetch and carry balls of
marline and seizing-stuff for the sailors when at work in the rigging;
besides doing many other things, which a true-born baronet of any
spirit would rather die and give up his title than stand.
Having been divided into watches we were sent to supper; but I could
not eat any thing except a little biscuit, though I should have liked
to have some good tea; but as I had no pot to get it in, and was rather
nervous about asking the rough sailors to let me drink out of theirs; I
was obliged to go without a sip. I thought of going to the black cook
and begging a tin cup; but he looked so cross and ugly then, that the
sight of him almost frightened the idea out of me.
When supper was over, for they never talk about going to _tea_ aboard
of a ship, the watch to which I belonged was called on deck; and we
were told it was for us to stand the first night watch, that is, from
eight o’clock till midnight.
I now began to feel unsettled and ill at ease about the stomach, as if
matters were all topsy-turvy there; and felt strange and giddy about
the head; and so I made no doubt that this was the beginning of that
dreadful thing, the sea-sickness. Feeling worse and worse, I told one
of the sailors how it was with me, and begged him to make my excuses
very civilly to the chief mate, for I thought I would go below and
spend the night in my bunk. But he only laughed at me, and said
something about my mother not being aware of my being out; which
enraged me not a little, that a man whom I had heard swear so terribly,
should dare to take such a holy name into his mouth. It seemed a sort
of blasphemy, and it seemed like dragging out the best and most
cherished secrets of my soul, for at that time the name of mother was
the center of all my heart’s finest feelings, which ere that, I had
learned to keep secret, deep down in my being.
But I did not outwardly resent the sailor’s words, for that would have
only made the matter worse.
Now this man was a Greenlander by birth, with a very white skin where
the sun had not burnt it, and handsome blue eyes placed wide apart in
his head, and a broad good-humored face, and plenty of curly flaxen
hair. He was not very tall, but exceedingly stout-built, though active;
and his back was as broad as a shield, and it was a great way between
his shoulders. He seemed to be a sort of lady’s sailor, for in his
broken English he was always talking about the nice ladies of his
acquaintance in Stockholm and Copenhagen and a place he called the
Hook, which at first I fancied must be the place where lived the
hook-nosed men that caught fowling-pieces and every other article that
came along. He was dressed very tastefully, too, as if he knew he was a
good-looking fellow. He had on a new blue woolen Havre frock, with a
new silk handkerchief round his neck, passed through one of the
vertebral bones of a shark, highly polished and carved. His trowsers
were of clear white duck, and he sported a handsome pair of pumps, and
a tarpaulin hat bright as a looking-glass, with a long black ribbon
streaming behind, and getting entangled every now and then in the
rigging; and he had gold anchors in his ears, and a silver ring on one
of his fingers, which was very much worn and bent from pulling ropes
and other work on board ship. I thought he might better have left his
jewelry at home.
It was a long time before I could believe that this man was really from
Greenland, though he looked strange enough to me, then, to have come
from the moon; and he was full of stories about that distant country;
how they passed the winters there; and how bitter cold it was; and how
he used to go to bed and sleep twelve hours, and get up again and run
about, and go to bed again, and get up again—there was no telling how
many times, and all in one night; for in the winter time in his
country, he said, the nights were so many weeks long, that a Greenland
baby was sometimes three months old, before it could properly be said
to be a day old.
I had seen mention made of such things before, in books of voyages; but
that was only reading about them, just as you read the Arabian Nights,
which no one ever believes; for somehow, when I read about these
wonderful countries, I never used really to believe what I read, but
only thought it very strange, and a good deal too strange to be
altogether true; though I never thought the men who wrote the book
meant to tell lies. But I don’t know exactly how to explain what I
mean; but this much I will say, that I never believed in Greenland till
I saw this Greenlander. And at first, hearing him talk about Greenland,
only made me still more incredulous. For what business had a man from
Greenland to be in my company? Why was he not at home among the
icebergs, and how could he stand a warm summer’s sun, and not be melted
away? Besides, instead of icicles, there were ear-rings hanging from
his ears; and he did not wear bear-skins, and keep his hands in a huge
muff; things, which I could not help connecting with Greenland and all
Greenlanders.
But I was telling about my being sea-sick and wanting to retire for the
night. This Greenlander seeing I was ill, volunteered to turn doctor
and cure me; so going down into the forecastle, he came back with a
brown jug, like a molasses jug, and a little tin cannikin, and as soon
as the brown jug got near my nose, I needed no telling what was in it,
for it smelt like a still-house, and sure enough proved to be full of
Jamaica spirits.
“Now, Buttons,” said he, “one little dose of this will be better for
you than a whole night’s sleep; there, take that now, and then eat
seven or eight biscuits, and you’ll feel as strong as the mainmast.”
But I felt very little like doing as I was bid, for I had some scruples
about drinking spirits; and to tell the plain truth, for I am not
ashamed of it, I was a member of a society in the village where my
mother lived, called the Juvenile Total Abstinence Association, of
which my friend, Tom Legare, was president, secretary, and treasurer,
and kept the funds in a little purse that his cousin knit for him.
There was three and sixpence on hand, I believe, the last time he
brought in his accounts, on a May day, when we had a meeting in a grove
on the river-bank. Tom was a very honest treasurer, and never spent the
Society’s money for peanuts; and besides all, was a fine, generous boy,
whom I much loved. But I must not talk about Tom now.
When the Greenlander came to me with his jug of medicine, I thanked him
as well as I could; for just then I was leaning with my mouth over the
side, feeling ready to die; but I managed to tell him I was under a
solemn obligation never to drink spirits upon any consideration
whatever; though, as I had a sort of presentiment that the spirits
would now, for once in my life, do me good, I began to feel sorry, that
when I signed the pledge of abstinence, I had not taken care to insert
a little clause, allowing me to drink spirits in case of sea-sickness.
And I would advise temperance people to attend to this matter in
future; and then if they come to go to sea, there will be no need of
breaking their pledges, which I am truly sorry to say was the case with
me. And a hard thing it was, too, thus to break a vow before unbroken;
especially as the Jamaica tasted any thing but agreeable, and indeed
burnt my mouth so, that I did not relish my meals for some time after.
Even when I had become quite well and strong again, I wondered how the
sailors could really like such stuff; but many of them had a jug of it,
besides the Greenlander, which they brought along to sea with them, _to
taper off with,_ as they called it. But this tapering off did not last
very long, for the Jamaica was all gone on the second day, and the jugs
were tossed overboard. I wonder where they are now?
But to tell the truth, I found, in spite of its sharp taste, the
spirits I drank was just the thing I needed; but I suppose, if I could
have had a cup of nice hot coffee, it would have done quite as well,
and perhaps much better. But that was not to be had at that time of
night, or, indeed, at any other time; for the thing they called
_coffee,_ which was given to us every morning at breakfast, was the
most curious tasting drink I ever drank, and tasted as little like
coffee, as it did like lemonade; though, to be sure, it was generally
as cold as lemonade, and I used to think the cook had an icehouse, and
dropt ice into his coffee. But what was more curious still, was the
different quality and taste of it on different mornings. Sometimes it
tasted fishy, as if it was a decoction of Dutch herrings; and then it
would taste very salty, as if some _old horse,_ or sea-beef, had been
boiled in it; and then again it would taste a sort of cheesy, as if the
captain had sent his cheese-parings forward to make our coffee of; and
yet another time it would have such a very bad flavor, that I was
almost ready to think some old stocking-heels had been boiled in it.
What under heaven it was made of, that it had so many different bad
flavors, always remained a mystery; for when at work at his vocation,
our old cook used to keep himself close shut-up in his caboose, a
little cook-house, and never told any of his secrets.
Though a very serious character, as I shall hereafter show, he was for
all that, and perhaps for that identical reason, a very suspicious
looking sort of a cook, that I don’t believe would ever succeed in
getting the cooking at Delmonico’s in New York. It was well for him
that he was a black cook, for I have no doubt his color kept us from
seeing his dirty face! I never saw him wash but once, and that was at
one of his own soup pots one dark night when he thought no one saw him.
What induced him to be washing his face then, I never could find out;
but I suppose he must have suddenly waked up, after dreaming about some
real estate on his cheeks. As for his coffee, notwithstanding the
disagreeableness of its flavor, I always used to have a strange
curiosity every morning, to see what new taste it was going to have;
and though, sure enough, I never missed making a new discovery, and
adding another taste to my palate, I never found that there was any
change in the badness of the beverage, which always seemed the same in
that respect as before.
It may well be believed, then, that now when I was seasick, a cup of
such coffee as our old cook made would have done me no good, if indeed
it would not have come near making an end of me. And bad as it was, and
since it was not to be had at that time of night, as I said before, I
think I was excusable in taking something else in place of it, as I
did; and under the circumstances, it would be unhandsome of them, if my
fellow-members of the Temperance Society should reproach me for
breaking my bond, which I would not have done except in case of
necessity. But the evil effect of breaking one’s bond upon any occasion
whatever, was witnessed in the present case; for it insidiously opened
the way to subsequent breaches of it, which though very slight, yet
carried no apology with them.