Bang! Bang! Bang! went a heavy hand on my door, and a sailor poked his
head inside a moment afterward with the news that it was eight bells,
and that I must leave the warm blankets to turn out for my watch on
deck.
I lay awake listening to the deepening hum of the wind in the rigging,
and I knew that it was blowing a stiff breeze aloft. The air in my room
was cold, and, as I heard O’Toole’s footsteps overhead, the desire to
keep within a warm, snug berth was almost overpowering. I could tell by
the shuffling of the second mate’s feet that he was having a cold time
of it. However, I turned out and found Brown already on deck talking to
O’Toole, who was evidently giving him some instructions he did not
understand.
The ship was tearing along under t’gallantsails, heading a little to
the southward of east, and braced sharp on her backstays to the
northeast breeze that was increasing steadily.
The glass had gone down three-tenths since I had turned in, and Captain
Crojack had come on deck to take a look at the weather. The odour of his
toilet--which consisted invariably of three fingers of rum mixed with
sugar and water--was perceptible in the crisp air, and he appeared a
trifle nervous. As everything was all right, and it would not be
daylight for nearly two hours, he finally came to the conclusion that
everything would go along just as well if he went below and turned in
again.
“Looks sort o’ dirty away t’ th’ north’ard, Mr. Gore,” said O’Toole,
“but I’ve held her up to her course till th’ last half-hour. I was just
tellin’ Mr. Brown here that he wants t’ be careful about that weather
maint’gallant leech-line, as it’s badly chafed. We’ll have a chance t’
reeve another pretty soon.”
I could see Brown’s teeth in the darkness, for he knew no more of the
whereabouts of that leech-line than he did of Captain Kidd’s treasure.
He was sensible enough, however, not to show his ignorance to the second
mate.
“I’ll reeve the beast, if it don’t take too much blood,” he answered,
and the second officer stood staring at him in amazement for the space
of half a minute. Then he touched his head significantly with his
carroty forefinger, and went below muttering something about men who
were “off the handle” during the first part of their morning watches.
I came to the rescue as soon as we were alone and asked:
“Have you ever been to sea before--that is, on deep water?”
“No, never, except once when I was a small boy and went with my father.
He was a master, you know, and had an interest in some of the finest
vessels the firm ever chartered. But it won’t take me long to get the
hang of these ropes, for they are not so many as they appear to be after
one gets used to them. If you’ll give me a pointer now and then, I’ll be
able to do something.”
I was sorely tempted to ask him why he had taken the notion to come out
on this voyage as third mate. Then, when I thought of what I had heard,
it seemed too bad to stir up unpleasant memories with him, so I forbore.
He appeared so pleasant and willing that I made up my mind then and
there to stand by him. It was hard enough for him to start out and make
his living as a sailor, even if he might be able to hold a mate’s berth
in a few years, so I cheered him up and told him that he would get along
all right. I had had hard knocks and a rough struggle all my life, and I
have always believed that a man who has suffered hard knocks is less
liable to pass them along to others than a narrow-minded, soft-handed
fellow who doesn’t know what the lives of some men are.
We didn’t have much time for discussing nautical subjects on this
morning, for, after we had been on deck five minutes, I saw that we were
going to have trouble with the canvas, if the vessel wasn’t shortened
down quickly. I wasted but few moments before giving the order to take
in the fore and main t’gallantsails.
When the morning dawned, the deepening haze in the northeast turned a
dull, steel blue, while the sun sent fan-shaped beams of light through
it, giving it an unpleasant look to a nautical eye.
To windward the sea had a ghastly pale colour, and the whitening combers
showed that it was beginning to get a good, quick run to it from the
northeast.
Captain Crojack came on deck, accompanied by his niece. The young girl
wore an old sou’wester, which had done duty for the skipper for many a
year, and was wrapped in a shawl. She made a ludicrous picture, standing
there at the companion hatch rigged out in those togs.
“Isn’t this grand, Mr. Gore?” she cried, as I came aft to the skipper.
“I do hope we will have a terrible storm. I do so want to see something
exciting. It’s awful to be stuck away down there in that stuffy old
cabin.”
“I certainly hope we will have nothing of the kind,” I answered, rather
shortly, for the idea of any one wishing for a gale was exceedingly
distasteful to me, especially in the hours of the morning watch when I
was hungry and half-frozen.
She laughed pleasantly at my ill-humour, and begged Mr. Brown to take
her forward, which the skipper, to my surprise, let him do.
“Going to have a fracas before night,” said the old man; “you better see
to those hatches, that they are lashed fast. She will be dry enough at
both ends, but she’ll be a brute for taking water over her amidships.”
I went forward and had the carpenter get out two heavy timbers to lash
over the after hatch, and then saw that the fore and main were battened
properly.
The men eyed the third mate curiously while he helped Miss Waters on to
the poop again and then joined in the work of lashing the timbers. I
noticed a smile or two in the group and saw some of the fellows exchange
glances.
The big, burly German--the first man I had chosen in my watch, and who
looked like an overgrown sculpin--made a remark to the man next to him,
as they bent over the timber.
I brought the end of the lashing across the fellow’s broad shoulders so
heavily that he started up with an oath and faced around at me.
It was only for an instant, for I held my face close to his and he
caught the look of my eye while I cursed him in a low, even tone for
being so slow at his work. Then he bent to it again, flashing out
venomous glances at me from the corners of his little black eyes.
Before going to breakfast, the skipper took in the maingallantsail, and
we ragged along under topsails with the weather clew of the mainsail
hauled up. Forward, the lower sails were the maintopmast-staysail,
foresail, and forestaysail, and they strained away at a rate that sent
the clipper flying through a perfect smother of white foam suds.
O’Toole came on deck, and Brown, the skipper, and myself went to
breakfast.
Miss Waters came to the table, but her mother was too ill to leave her
bunk. The cleats were fastened to the board to keep the dishes from
slipping to leeward, and the young girl appeared to enjoy this novelty.
I couldn’t help thinking how bright and rosy she looked as she steadied
her plate and laughed gaily at every lurch of the racing ship.
She and Brown kept up a cheerful conversation, while the skipper and I
drank our coffee in silence. Once I fancied the old man regarded his
third mate a little sourly. However, he said nothing disagreeable and,
after finishing his coffee, contented himself with some remarks about
the weather. We were nearly through the meal when the vessel took a
sudden heel to leeward.
A deep, booming roar overhead, mingled with the hoarse cries of the
second mate and thundering crack of flying canvas, told us plainly that
something was wrong on deck. Captain Crojack jumped from his chair,
letting the dish of cold beef slide to the deck, and together we made
our way on deck, closely followed by the third mate.
The ship, struck by a squall, was almost on her beam ends, while the
main and mizzen topsails, which O’Toole had let go by the run, were
thundering away at a rate that threatened to take the masts out of her.
“Hard up the wheel!” bawled Crojack, as he gained the poop.
“Maintopmast-stay-sail, Mr. Gore, quick!” he yelled again as I cast off
the halyards and got a couple of men at the down-haul.
O’Toole bawled for all hands, and, as I turned, he and a dozen men
sprang into the main rigging and up they went to secure the maintopsail.
Young Brown kept with the men on deck and helped wherever he could lend
a hand, for, as he was stout and active, his weight on a down-haul or
clewline was equal to any.
The wind increased rapidly while the vessel was paying off before it, so
by the time the main and mizzen upper topsails were snug, we were kept
hard at it struggling with the main and fore sails.
As she came slowly to, the full force of the wind could be realized, and
the flying drift and spray gave the thing a nasty look to windward. The
sea began to make rapidly.
I took my watch below a little before two bells, while the skipper
stayed on deck with the second mate.
Miss Waters stood in the door of the after companionway holding to the
combings of the hatch-slide. She looked a little frightened, but was
apparently enjoying the ship’s plunges in spite of it. By the present
outlook of things to windward, it appeared as though her wish for
excitement would be fulfilled before many hours passed.
Brown turned in, or rather he went below, when I did. I fancied that he
did it for appearances, as there was little chance for a landsman to
rest.
An old sailor will never miss his watch below in bad weather if he can
help it, for he never is sure of how long it will be before all hands
are turned out for a fight with canvas.
He will manage to get to sleep even if he is stood on his head every few
minutes. But
[Illustration: “MISS WATERS STOOD IN THE DOOR OF THE AFTER
COMPANIONWAY.”]
to a person unaccustomed to the motion of an overloaded ship, the
jerking and crashing going on below are unbearable. It is entirely
different from a comfortable ’tween decks of a passenger ship. Every
plank and timber is groaning with the strain, and the tremendous
cracking will make it appear, at first, as if the vessel is going to
pieces in a few moments.
On the contrary, an old sailor knows that the more noise in the working
timbers, up to a certain extent, the safer is the ship, for it is only
sound timber that makes a great noise. As for me, I was asleep almost as
soon as I had stretched out in my bunk, but almost instantly afterward I
was awakened by a thundering shock that made the ship stagger. In a
moment my door was burst open and a man stuck in his head and bawled,
“All hands, sir!”