AT DEAD OF NIGHT HE IS SENT UP TO LOOSE THE MAIN-SKYSAIL
I must now run back a little, and tell of my first going aloft at
middle watch, when the sea was quite calm, and the breeze was mild.
The order was given to loose the _main-skysail,_ which is the fifth and
highest sail from deck. It was a very small sail, and from the
forecastle looked no bigger than a cambric pocket-handkerchief. But I
have heard that some ships carry still smaller sails, above the
skysail; called _moon-sails,_ and _skyscrapers,_ and _cloud-rakers._
But I shall not believe in them till I see them; a _skysail_ seems high
enough in all conscience; and the idea of any thing higher than that,
seems preposterous. Besides, it looks almost like tempting heaven, to
brush the very firmament so, and almost put the eyes of the stars out;
when a flaw of wind, too, might very soon take the conceit out of these
cloud-defying _cloud-rakers._
Now, when the order was passed to loose the skysail, an old Dutch
sailor came up to me, and said, “Buttons, my boy, it’s high time you be
doing something; and it’s boy’s business, Buttons, to loose de royals,
and not old men’s business, like me. Now, d’ye see dat leelle fellow
way up dare? _dare,_ just behind dem stars dare: well, tumble up, now,
Buttons, I zay, and looze him; way you go, Buttons.”
All the rest joining in, and seeming unanimous in the opinion, that it
was high time for me to be stirring myself, and doing _boy’s business,_
as they called it, I made no more ado, but jumped into the rigging. Up
I went, not daring to look down, but keeping my eyes glued, as it were,
to the shrouds, as I ascended.
It was a long road up those stairs, and I began to pant and breathe
hard, before I was half way. But I kept at it till I got to the
_Jacob’s Ladder;_ and they may well call it so, for it took me almost
into the clouds; and at last, to my own amazement, I found myself
hanging on the skysail-yard, holding on might and main to the mast; and
curling my feet round the rigging, as if they were another pair of
hands.
For a few moments I stood awe-stricken and mute. I could not see far
out upon the ocean, owing to the darkness of the night; and from my
lofty perch, the sea looked like a great, black gulf, hemmed in, all
round, by beetling black cliffs. I seemed all alone; treading the
midnight clouds; and every second, expected to find myself
falling—falling—falling, as I have felt when the nightmare has been on
me.
I could but just perceive the ship below me, like a long narrow plank
in the water; and it did not seem to belong at all to the yard, over
which I was hanging. A gull, or some sort of sea-fowl, was flying round
the truck over my head, within a few yards of my face; and it almost
frightened me to hear it; it seemed so much like a spirit, at such a
lofty and solitary height.
Though there was a pretty smooth sea, and little wind; yet, at this
extreme elevation, the ship’s motion was very great; so that when the
ship rolled one way, I felt something as a fly must feel, walking the
ceiling; and when it rolled the other way, I felt as if I was hanging
along a slanting pine-tree.
But presently I heard a distant, hoarse noise from below; and though I
could not make out any thing intelligible, I knew it was the mate
hurrying me. So in a nervous, trembling desperation, I went to casting
off the _gaskets,_ or lines tying up the sail; and when all was ready,
sung out as I had been told, to _“hoist away!”_ And hoist they did, and
me too along with the yard and sail; for I had no time to get off, they
were so unexpectedly quick about it. It seemed like magic; there I was,
going up higher and higher; the yard rising under me, as if it were
alive, and no soul in sight. Without knowing it at the time, I was in a
good deal of danger, but it was so dark that I could not see well
enough to feel afraid—at least on that account; though I felt
frightened enough in a promiscuous way. I only held on hard, and made
good the saying of old sailors, that the last person to fall overboard
from the rigging is a landsman, because he grips the ropes so fiercely;
whereas old tars are less careful, and sometimes pay the penalty.
After this feat, I got down rapidly on deck, and received something
like a compliment from Max the Dutchman.
This man was perhaps the best natured man among the crew; at any rate,
he treated me better than the rest did; and for that reason he deserves
some mention.
Max was an old bachelor of a sailor, very precise about his wardrobe,
and prided himself greatly upon his seamanship, and entertained some
straight-laced, old-fashioned notions about the duties of boys at sea.
His hair, whiskers, and cheeks were of a fiery red; and as he wore a
red shirt, he was altogether the most combustible looking man I ever
saw.
Nor did his appearance belie him; for his temper was very inflammable;
and at a word, he would explode in a shower of hard words and
imprecations. It was Max that several times set on foot those
conspiracies against Jackson, which I have spoken of before; but he
ended by paying him a grumbling homage, full of resentful reservations.
Max sometimes manifested some little interest in my welfare; and often
discoursed concerning the sorry figure I would cut in my tatters when
we got to Liverpool, and the discredit it would bring on the American
Merchant Service; for like all European seamen in American ships, Max
prided himself not a little upon his naturalization as a Yankee, and if
he could, would have been very glad to have passed himself off for a
born native.
But notwithstanding his grief at the prospect of my reflecting
discredit upon his adopted country, he never offered to better my
wardrobe, by loaning me any thing from his own well-stored chest. Like
many other well-wishers, he contented him with sympathy. Max also
betrayed some anxiety to know whether I knew how to dance; lest, when
the ship’s company went ashore, I should disgrace them by exposing my
awkwardness in some of the sailor saloons. But I relieved his anxiety
on that head.
He was a great scold, and fault-finder, and often took me to task about
my short-comings; but herein, he was not alone; for every one had a
finger, or a thumb, and sometimes both hands, in my unfortunate pie.