The weather continued fair, and in three weeks we crossed the line in
about twenty degrees west longitude.
We had seen but few vessels on the run down, but now sails were sighted
almost daily.
Some of these were heavily loaded clippers, bound round Cape Horn, that
had kept well to the eastward, in order to pick up the southeast trade
as far over as possible and keep from getting jammed to the northward of
Cape St. Roque.
As the northeast trade died out it left us entering the region of the
doldrums, with its squalls and calms. We did well to carry the trade
across the line, and then we drifted about for several days without
making any southing to speak of. The southeast trade appeared to be well
to the southward and the weather continued hot and calm.
One damp, overcast morning, a large ship appeared on the northern
horizon, standing almost directly after us. She drifted along all day
without coming near enough for Captain Crojack to make out who she was,
and toward evening she disappeared in a thick smudge of rain.
After supper it cleared off, and the moon shone brightly over a sea of
oily smoothness.
The ship astern had drifted quite close during the rain squall, and now
she suddenly appeared on the port quarter not half a mile distant.
It was a pretty sight to see her there, with her canvas all glimmering
in the moonlight, and all hands took a good look at her. She appeared
innocent enough.
By and by the skipper made her out to be an Englishman, and he sat aft
looking at her for a long time.
Mrs. Waters and her daughter came on deck and placed chairs, so they
could sit and watch the stranger, for she was the only vessel that had
come within hailing distance of us since we left port.
It is a strange feeling of fellowship that comes over people who are
abroad on the wide ocean when they find themselves in the vicinity of an
unknown vessel. There is as much interest taken in a strange ship at sea
as there would be in one carrying dear friends on soundings.
While Captain Crojack and his passengers were gazing at the vessel
astern the third mate came aft and seated himself close to Miss Waters.
The young girl and he conversed in low tones, so I could not hear what
was said; but as she appeared to lose all interest in the ship, it is
barely possible that they were not discussing nautical matters.
I can’t explain why this irritated me. It may have been the effect of
the moonlight, for the tropic moon has a powerful effect upon people if
they sleep with it shining in their faces.
I was irritated and had just about concluded to put in a word to help
the conversation, and was starting toward them, when Crojack put down
his night-glass with an impatient jerk.
“Where in thunder is that fellow heading?” he asked, turning and looking
at me. “If he keeps on, he’ll be aboard us in an hour or two.
“It’s just the way with some of those thick-headed Englishmen! They’ll
come drifting down on you in a dead calm, and, before you know it,
they’ll be afoul of you and tear half the stunsails out of you, to say
nothing of breaking the booms. It’s nigh eight bells, so suppose you
call the second mate and tell him to bring his speaking-trumpet and hail
the fellow. To run foul of a ship during a blow is bad enough, but to
run foul of one during a calm means that we might lay alongside for a
week and roll everything out of us aloft, stunsail-booms and all.”
Brown instantly started with me as I went forward, for the skipper
brought his eye to bear on him and saw he was becoming unnautical with
his niece. I sent him to call O’Toole.
“Wants me ter hail him, hey?” growled the red-headed giant, as he
tumbled out on the main-deck. “B’ th’ sowl av Saint Patrick, jist
hearken ter me. If thim illigant leddies av his are below, ye will hear
me talk Spanish t’ th’ bloody Englishmen, sich as ye niver heard before
nor since. Hello! Wait a minit--” and the second mate, catching a
glimpse of a dress in the moonlight, dived below again in a hurry.
As he had turned out just as he turned in, he had forgotten, in his
eagerness, to put on his trousers.
He appeared again in a few minutes better attired for the quarter-deck.
Then, growling something not very complimentary to passengers in
general, he came aft.
“Hail that fellow and tell him to stand off before he drifts afoul of
us,” said the skipper. “Tell him there’s room enough on the Western
Ocean without crowding.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered O’Toole, as he walked to the rail and glared
fiercely at the stranger astern.
“S’ o--o--hoy!” he roared, in a voice like a fog-horn, and then stopped
to listen.
He repeated the hail through his speaking-trumpet at the request of the
skipper, although it was evident that he held such an instrument in high
disdain and deemed any artificial acceleration to his voice as entirely
unnecessary.
Soon a faint answer came floating over the calm, moonlit waters.
“What d’ yer want?” it said.
“Stand off, or you’ll be afoul of us!” roared O’Toole.
“Go to ’ell!” came the response, clear and distinct. Then the quiet of
the tropic night fell again upon the sea.
“What a brute!” exclaimed Mrs. Waters. “I wonder how a man can be so
coarse and vulgar. What is the matter with him?”
“It’s a disease that afflicts a great many shipmasters, and it appears
hard to cure,” I ventured. “It’s a--”
“Beggin’ your pardon,” interrupted O’Toole. “’Tis a disease I’ve had
occasion t’ cure often enough, an’, by th’ faith, I’ve always seen it
give way, most rapid like, before th’ inflooence av prayer, an’ th’
layin’ on av hands. I know av a case where a man--”
“By thunder!” snapped Crojack, suddenly, “if it falls as calm as this
to-morrow I’ll go aboard that fellow and see who he is. Mr. O’Toole, you
will be on deck in the morning, and I wish you to have one of the boats
ready. I’ve sailed in most seas and have met all kinds of people, but
for a real out an’ outer, with a loose jaw tackle, give me one of those
swine-gutted, bull-headed, egotistical Englishmen in the Indian trade.
Seems to me, though, I’ve heard that voice before.”
“It’s pretty hard to tell at this distance,” I answered, “but we’ll be
able to find out very soon, for she’s drifting down on us all the time.”
The skipper remained quiet for some moments, gazing steadily at the
stranger through his glass, so I took the opportunity to lean on the
taffrail close to where Miss Waters sat in her chair. She was looking
silently at the towering white cloud of canvas astern and her profile
shone clear in the moonlight.
Her large blue eyes had a dreamy, stupid look in them as they gazed from
under their long lashes, such as I had often noticed before in pretty
women; but her skin had a rich, creamy colour about the throat, and the
outlines of her willowy figure showed such beautiful curves that I
suddenly found my eyes roving in a most uncomfortable manner from ship
to girl and from girl to ship.
I don’t attempt to explain it. It may have been the moonlight that made
her look so pretty, but as I gazed I suddenly felt as if my blood had
turned to melted lead in my veins. The heat of it made my face burn, and
I could not utter a word, but I drew a long breath.
I shut my teeth hard and had just made up my mind to beat a retreat,
when, to my dismay, she turned and looked me straight in the eyes.
The next instant she burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
“Why, Mr. Gore, I didn’t know you suffered so with asthma,” she said
aloud. “You must pardon me, but you really made such a noise choking
that I was quite frightened. I should think the night air was bad for
you.”
For an instant I felt as if the ship had sunk under me, but, as I caught
the skipper’s inquiring look, my nerve, which seldom deserted me,
returned.
“Well, you see, I’m so used to walking fore and aft during my watch on
deck that I don’t notice it much while I’m in motion,” I replied. “It’s
only when I get lazy and sit down that it affects me. After all, it
don’t amount to much, and serves as well as a pipe to keep me on the
move during the night.”
I noticed the old man scan the breadth of my beam with a quizzical look;
for, you see, while I’m not as tall as some men, there is a certain heft
to my shoulders even yet that is ill connected with a man weak in the
wind.
However, my answer appeared to satisfy him, and I went below as quickly
as possible, and turned in with a feeling of resentment against
everybody on board the ship.
At midnight I turned out, and found the stranger close aboard our port
quarter, and O’Toole furious at the answer he had received on hailing
him.
“He won’t stand off, Mr. Gore,” said the second mate as I came aft, “an’
if it holds calm another hour he’ll be alongside.”
After O’Toole had gone below, I took the glass and watched the man who
had just relieved the watch on her quarter-deck. He was not over fifty
fathoms distant, and I could see that he was tall and wore a full beard.
Just below the stranger’s white quarter-rail was a yellowish streak on
her black hull, and on focusing the night-glass upon it I read _Countess
of Warwick_ in small gold letters.
She drifted steadily nearer and I hailed her again.
At that moment a sturdy, bow-legged man appeared on deck and joined the
one I had been watching.
He came to the rail and stared at me for several minutes, and then
answered in a deep, gruff, even tone:
“By the great eternal! Ain’t this ocean big enough for you, that you
must come wailing like a babe in the night? S’help me Gawd, when I
sailed Yankee clippers there was little trouble in finding room enough
in any ocean. This here lady is a real countess, and you needn’t be
afraid of her sassiety, even if she is a little fast. She won’t foul
them blooming stunsails of yours.”
At the sound of this voice, which was now quite near and distinct, I
heard a quick movement in the skipper’s cabin, and I glanced down into
it through one of the open ports.
Crojack had jumped out of his bunk and was in the act of swallowing a
stiff drink of grog,--his usual toilet,--and as he finished it he
bounded on deck with a series of sudden springs.
“Hello, there!” he bawled at the stranger.
His answer was a hoarse chuckle from the stout man, which swelled into a
hearty laugh.
“Hello, there! Is that you, Bill Garnett?” repeated the skipper.
I heard the bow-legged man mutter something, and then take off his cap
and mop his bald head, which shone in the moonlight.
“Well, sure enough, so it is,” he finally answered.
“Who the devil would be sailing with such a cargo but me? Why in thunder
didn’t you tell me ’twas you, messmate? and I would have tried to put
more water atween us--though there ain’t no danger.”
I had been watching him while he was talking, and I now recognized the
old mate easily enough. Nearly every man in the deep-water trade at that
time had seen or heard of old Bill Garnett.
“I might have known it was you,” growled Crojack. “Always an ornery,
bull-headed, headstrong mate, trying to make trouble. Why don’t you keep
off and give us more room?”
“Well, well, I am mate o’ this craft, sure enough,” laughed the old
sailor, “but it ain’t such a bad job alongside o’ being a d----d,
shad-bellied, thieving shipmaster. As for room, you’ve got the whole
ocean and can change your course as easy as my skipper can change
his--but you was always a hard man to reason with.”
And old Garnett began to walk fore and aft on his deck, chuckling
audibly.
“I might have known it,” repeated the skipper to himself. Then turning
to me:
“I’ve had Garnett with me as mate six voyages, Mr. Gore, and I’ve never
seen a more unreasonable critter in my life. What do you suppose he’s
doing on that Englishman, anyway? She looks mighty light for the India
trade.”
“I don’t know why he should be on her, except for the pay,” I replied.
“Garnett’s a rough mate and would just as soon sail under one flag as
another. He’s been under about all. The vessel does look uncommonly
light.”
The skipper stood watching the Englishman for some time, but as she
appeared to draw no nearer, he finally went below. The _Arrow_, having
no steering way, now drifted so as to bring the stranger almost head
on, so I could no longer see the men on her quarter-deck.
In the morning, after I had passed a restless night, I turned out with
but little appetite for breakfast. I knew well enough what was the
matter with me, and, had I been ashore, I would have put some distance
between myself and our passengers.
I was about as awkward at the table as it was possible to be, but I
dared not shirk the ordeal, for fear of making an idiot of myself before
Captain Crojack.
It’s all well enough to joke about such matters, and say they don’t
last, and that no man ever died for love, but joking don’t help the case
in any way whatever.
The cholera don’t last long after it takes a man, either, for that
matter. It’s just as well to look the subject squarely in the face.
That no man ever died for love is an absurd statement. There are more
men killed or ruined by this mental disturbance than any other.
That its origin is not purely physical even a deep-water sailor knows.
That it don’t last is also certain, for nothing human ever does last
above a certain limited time.
I have seen this passion burn itself out like a flash of tropical
lightning, and I’ve seen it smoulder like the damp coal in a ship’s hold
and last until it passes quietly into the perfect friendship between an
old man and an old woman.
But because it don’t last, don’t think that it lacks force while it does
act.
I’m a plain man and known as “Bull Gore” among the deep-water men. My
face is too big to be handsome, and I’ve the girth of forty-five inches
around the heave of my chest. In spite of this, I knew I was going to
have a tough struggle and would need all my strength for the fracas
brewing within me.
Who is it, I say? Who is it that has felt this passion and can say no
one was ever hurt or killed by it?
Why, I once saw a Japanese samurai pass his heavy two-handed sword
through nine men in succession for--
Well, I’m not a young man, but I don’t mean to be garrulous.