AGAIN PRESERVED--CHARLEY'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF--A NIGHT AT SEA--THE WEST
INDIES--A HURRICANE--SHIP ON FIRE--AGAIN ON A RAFT--LOOK OUT FOR HELP--
THE HAPPY RELIEF--THE BREAKING OUT OF WAR--PURSUED--ENDEAVOUR TO
ESCAPE--CAPTURED BY FRIENDS--THE MAN-OF-WAR--OUR MATE PRESSED--DUTY ON
BOARD--MR. MERTON'S GALLANTRY--OLD ENGLAND AT LAST--A BITTER
DISAPPOINTMENT--FRIENDS GONE--MISS RUNDLE--SHE TELLS ME WHAT HAS BECOME
OF AUNT BRETTA--VISIT MY GRANDMOTHER'S GRAVE.
My last thoughts had been, before I lost all consciousness, that death
was about to put an end to my sufferings. I remember then hearing a
rush of waters--a confused sound--rattling of blocks--human voices--
cries and shrieks. I looked up--it was night. A dark object was
lowering above my head. I fancied it was a huge black rock, and that it
was going to fall down and crush me. "To what strange shore have we
drifted?" I thought. I cried out with terror. "Never fear, my lad,"
said a voice. "It's all right." I found myself gently lifted up in the
arms of a person, and when I next opened my eyes, I discovered that I
was on the deck of a large ship and several people standing round me.
The light of a lantern fell on the face of one of them. I looked hard
at the person. Was it only fancy? I was certain that it was the
countenance of Charley Iffley. I pronounced his name. He had not
before recognised me.
"Why, Will Weatherhelm, how did you come out here?" he exclaimed, in a
tone of surprise. But a gentleman, whom I found to be doctor, told him
that he must not now talk to me, and that he would find out all about it
by and by.
I was then carried below, and placed in a berth, and very kindly
treated. In a few days I was sufficiently recovered to go on deck. I
was glad to see old Captain Stunt there also, looking well and fresh. I
found that we were on board a large West India trader, the _Montezuma_,
belonging to the firm to which I was apprenticed, Messrs. Dickson,
Waddilove, and Buck. I little knew what additional cause for gratitude
we had for our escape, for the ship coming on the raft at night while
Mr Stunt was asleep, we were not observed till she actually grazed by
it. The noise awoke him, when he shouted out, and the ship being
close-hauled, and having little way, was immediately luffed up, and
without difficulty we were taken on board.
"Well, Charley, how did you come to be on board the _Montezuma_?" I
asked.
"That question is very simply answered," said he. "When I got home I
found that my uncles and aunts and all my first cousins looked upon me
as a very troublesome visitor, and hinted that the sooner I took myself
off to sea again the better. It is not comfortable to feel that
everybody is giving one the cold shoulder, so I begged to have a new
kit, and offered to look out for a ship. It was wonderful how willingly
everybody worked, and how soon my outfit was ready. My eldest uncle
hurried off to Mr Dickson, and as they were just sending the
_Montezuma_ to sea, and had room for an apprentice, I was immediately
sent on board, and here I am. Now you know all about me. I thought I
was going to change and become a better character. I was sorry for many
things I had done, and if my relations had treated me kindly at first, I
think they would have found me very different to what I was. How ever,
give a dog a bad name and it sticks to him like pitch."
"But I am afraid, Charley, from what you have told me, that you gave
yourself the bad name," said I. "You should not blame others."
"I do not," he answered. "All I blame them for is, that they did not
soften their hearts toward me, and try to reform me. They might have
done it, and I could have loved some of them tenderly; but others are
harsh, stiff, cold, very good people, who have no sympathy for any who
do not think like themselves, and make no allowances for the follies and
weaknesses of those who have not had the advantages they have enjoyed."
And Charley put his head between his hands and burst into tears.
I was very glad to see this. It made me like him more than I had ever
before done. I have since often thought how very different many young
people would turn out if they were spoken to by their elders with
gentleness and kindness--if sympathy was shown them, and if their faults
were clearly pointed out.
Our owners were very respectable people, and understood their business,
so they were generally well served. Captain Horner, of the _Montezuma_,
was a good sailor. The crew consequently looked up to him, though he
kept himself aloof from them. He was what the world calls a very good
sort of man, but as to his religion and morals I was not able to form an
opinion. It may seem strange that I, a young apprentice, should have
thought at all on the subject. Perhaps, if those in command knew how
completely their conduct and behaviour are canvassed by those under
them, they would behave very differently to what they do. Our second
mate, Josias Merton by name, was a man worthy of remark. He was a very
steady, serious-minded person, and yet full of life and fun. He prided
himself on his knowledge of his profession in all its details. His
heart was kind and gentle, and he was at the same time brave and
determined, active and prompt in action. He never undertook what he did
not believe, after due consideration, he could accomplish, and therefore
seldom failed in what he undertook. Both Charley and I owed him much,
for he spared no pains to improve us and to instruct us in our
profession.
As soon as I was well, I was placed in a watch and had begun to know and
to do my duty. The Atlantic afforded me the sight of many objects to
which I had been unaccustomed in the Mediterranean. I remember one
night coming on deck, and after I had looked to set what sail was set,
and how the ship was steering, I cast my eyes over the calm ocean. It
was very dark. There was no moon, and clouds obscured the stars. I
gazed with amazement. The whole surface of the deep, far as the eye
could reach, was lighted with brilliant flashes. I bent over the side.
The sea was alive with fish of every size and shape. Some were leaping
up, ever and anon, out of the water; others were chasing their smaller
brethren through it; others, again, rolled over in it, or lay floating
idly near, as if looking up with their bright eyes to watch the ship,
the invader of their liquid home. People talk of the lack-lustre of a
fish's eye. They are acquainted only with a dead fish. Did they ever
remark the keen, bright, diabolical eye of a shark watching for his
expected victim? I know nothing in nature more piercing, more
dread-inspiring. Here were collected sharks, and pilot-fish, and
albicores, bonettas, dolphins, flying-fish, and numberless others, for
which old Mr Stunt, to whom I applied, could give me no name. The very
depths of the ocean seemed to have sent forth all their inhabitants to
watch our proceedings.
"I suppose that it is the shining copper on the ship's bottom attracts
them," said the old man. "They take it to be some big light, I
conclude." Whether he was right or not I have never since heard any one
give an opinion.
The first place at which we touched was Bridgetown, in the island of
Barbadoes. I thought the Bay of Carlisle, with the capital Bridgetown
built round its shores, and the fertile valleys, and rich fields of
sugar-cane, altogether a very lovely spot. The West India Islands are
divided into what are called the Windward and Leeward Islands. The
wind, it must be understood, blows for nine months of the year from the
east. The most eastern islands are therefore called the Windward
Islands, and those in the western group the Leeward Islands. Of all the
Caribbean Islands, Barbadoes is the most windward, and the Havannah the
most leeward. We had to land cargo and passengers, and to take in cargo
at several islands. We commenced, therefore, at the windward ones. In
that way I became acquainted with a considerable portion of the West
India Islands, and very beautiful places I saw on them. The _Montezuma_
was not long in getting a full cargo, and then she prepared to return
home. The last place at which we touched was Kingston in Jamaica. At
length, I thought to myself, I shall once more see Old England, and
satisfy my kind grandmother and Aunt Bretta that I am still alive. I
hope that I may leave this vessel without her being shipwrecked, as has
been the fate of every one I have yet been on board. Just as this idea
had crossed my mind the captain sent for me, and said that he was going
to leave Mr Merton in charge of a small schooner, which was to be
employed in running between the different islands to collect cargo to be
ready for the return of the ship, and that he wished me to remain.
"You will be soon out of your indentures, and if you behave well, as I
have no doubt you will, I will promise you a mate's berth," he added.
This was indeed more than I could have expected; and though I was
disappointed in not going home, I thanked the captain very much for his
good opinion of me and kind intentions, and accepted his offer. The
_Montezuma_ sailed for England, and I found myself forming one of the
crew of the _Grogo_ schooner. We had a very pleasant life of it,
because the black slaves did all the hard work, taking in and
discharging cargo, and bringing water and wood off to us.
I might fill pages with descriptions of the curious trees and plants and
animals I saw in the West Indies. There is one, however, which I must
describe. I was asking Mr Merton one day the meaning of the name of
our schooner. He laughed, and said that grogo is the name of a big
maggot which is found in the Cockarito palm or cabbage tree. This
maggot is the grub of a large black beetle. It grows to the length of
four inches, and is as thick as a man's thumb. Though its appearance is
not very attractive, it is considered a delicious treat by people in the
West Indies, when well dressed, and they declare that it has the flavour
of all the spices of the East. These maggots are only found in such
cabbages as are in a state of decay. The Cockarito palm often reaches
fifty feet in height. In the very top is found the most delicate
cabbage enclosed in a green husk, composed of several skins. These are
peeled off, until the white cabbage appears in long thin flakes, which
taste very like the kernel of a nut. The heart is the most delicate,
and, being sweet and crisp, is often used as a salad. The outside when
boiled is considered far superior to any European cabbage. One of the
most important trees in the West Indies is the plantain tree. It grows
to the height of about twenty feet, and throws out its leaves from the
top of the stem so as to look something like an umbrella. The leaves
when fresh are of a shining sea-green colour, and have the appearance of
rich satin. When the young shoots come out, they split and hang down in
tatters. From the top grows a strong stalk about three feet long, which
bends down with the weight of its purple fruit, each of which is in
shape like a calf's heart--a considerable number form one bunch. Each
tree produces but one bunch at a time. The plantain, when ripe, forms a
delicious fruit, and when boiled or roasted, it is used instead of
potatoes. It forms a principal portion of the food of the negroes. The
cassava forms another important article of the food of the blacks. The
plant grows about four feet high; the stem is of a grey colour, and
divides near its top into several green branches, from which spring red
stalks with large leaves. There are two species, the sweet and bitter
cassava. The bitter is excessively poisonous till exposed to the heat
of fire. The root is like a coarse potato. It is dried and then grated
on a grater formed by sharp pebbles stuck on a board, and the juice
which remains is then pressed out by means of an elastic basket, into
which the grated root is stuffed. The farina thus produced is made into
thin cakes and baked. Tapioca is the finer portion of the farina.
I might, as I was saying, fill my pages with an account of the wonderful
productions of those fertile islands, of the value of which I do not
think even now my countrymen are fully aware. One curious circumstance
I must mention in connection with them and my paternal country,
Shetland, though I did not hear it till very many years afterwards. It
shows how intimately the interests of distant parts of the world are
united. The slaves in the West Indies were supplied by their masters
with salt-fish, which fish were caught by the Shetlanders off their
coasts. When the slaves were emancipated, they refused any longer to
eat the description of food which they had been compelled to consume
during their servitude, and the Shetland fish-dealers had not thought in
the meantime of looking out for fresh markets. The consequence was,
they were ruined; the herring boats were laid up, and the fishermen had
to go south in search of employment.
However, that has nothing to do with my story. The _Grogo_ was very
successful, and we were looking forward every day for the return of the
_Montezuma_. I could not help telling Mr Merton one day of my rash
oath which I had made in the presence of my grandmother, and how I had
been wrecked in every vessel I had sailed in from the time I came to
sea. He tried to reason me out of the belief that I was the cause of
the loss of the vessels. He said the oath was wicked, there was no
doubt of that, but that others had lost their lives and some their
property, while I each time had suffered less than anybody else. I saw
the strength of his reasoning, but still I was not convinced. I felt
that I had deserved all the hardships I had endured, and I fully
expected to be wrecked again. What followed may seem very strange. All
I can do is to give events as they occurred. Two days after this we lay
becalmed about ten miles from the land off Port Morant, to the eastward
of Kingston in Jamaica. We had an old man of colour, who acted as pilot
and mate on board. He had been below asleep. At last he turned out of
his hot, stifling berth, and came on deck. He looked round the horizon
on every side.
"Captain," said he, "I wish we were safe in port. There's something bad
coming."
"What is it, Billy?" asked Mr Merton.
"A hurricane!" was the answer.
The hurricane came. The spirit of the whirlwind rode triumphantly
through the air. Earth and ocean felt his power; trees were torn up by
the roots; houses were overthrown; the water rose in huge waves--
hissing, and foaming, and leaping madly around us. Our topmasts had
been struck; every stitch of canvas closely furled, and everything on
deck securely lashed. The fierce blast of the tempest struck the little
vessel; round and round she was helplessly whirled. Away we drove out
to sea, and we thought we were safe; but our hopes were to prove vain.
Once more we approached the shore with redoubled speed; the frowning
rocks threatened our instant destruction; we could do nothing for our
preservation. To anchor was utterly useless. We shook hands all round;
on, on we drove. A yellow sandy bay appeared between two dark rocks; a
huge sea carried us on; safely between the two rocks it bore us; up the
beach it rolled. The schooner drew but little water. High up the sea
carried us stem on. We rushed forward, and springing along the
bowsprit, leaped on to the sand, and before another sea could overtake
us we were safe out of its reach. We fell down on our knees and uttered
a prayer of thanksgiving for our preservation. In ten minutes not a
fragment of the schooner held together. We had truly reason to be
grateful.
"Another time wrecked," said I to Mr Merton.
"Yes, Will; but another time saved," was his answer.
We got safe to the village of Morant Bay, where we were very kindly
received, and the next day were forwarded over land to Kingston, there
to await the arrival of the _Montezuma_. She came into Port Royal
Harbour in about a week, not having felt the hurricane. As the agent
had a full cargo for her, she only remained a short time, and at length
I found myself on the way to the shores of old England.
"There is no fear now but what I shall get to Plymouth at last," I
thought to myself as I walked the deck in my watch the first wight after
we had got well clear of the land, and were standing out into the broad
Atlantic. Then I remembered my rash oath, and in spite of all Mr
Merton's reasonings, I could not help believing that its consequences
would still follow me. "Home! home! with all its endearments, is not
for you. The time of your probation is yet unfulfilled!--your
punishment is not accomplished!"--a voice whispered in my ear. I could
not silence it. Still I thought that it was only fancy. Just then
Charley Iffley joined me in my walk; we were in the same watch.
Hitherto I had never told him of my belief that a curse was pursuing me.
I should have been wiser not to have mentioned the subject to him;
still I thought that he was so much changed that he would sympathise
with me. I told him all that had occurred from the moment when I first
expressed my wish to go to sea to my grandmother and aunt, and reminded
him of all the sufferings I had endured, and the number of times I had
been shipwrecked. Instead, however, of treating the subject in the
gentle, serious way Mr Merton had done, he burst into a loud fit of
laughter.
"Nonsense, Will," he exclaimed, "you'll next accuse me of being your
evil spirit, and of tempting you to sin. Many a man has been
shipwrecked as often as you have who has been sent to sea against his
own will; and if he swore at all, it was that he might speedily get on
shore. Get that idea out of your head as soon as possible."
I was anxious enough to follow Charley's advice, but do all I could, the
idea came back and back again whenever I found myself during my watch at
night taking a turn by myself on deck.
Charley was already out of his indentures, and as he had become a steady
fellow and a good seaman, he hoped to be made mate on his next voyage.
At last the day arrived when the term of my apprenticeship expired, and
I was to be a free man, able to take any berth offered to me. My only
wish, however, after I had paid my family a visit, was to be employed in
the service of my present owners. To commemorate the event, Charley
proposed having a feast in our mess, and he managed to purchase from the
third mate, who acted as a sort of purser, various articles of luxury
and an additional bottle of rum. We were very jolly, and very happy we
thought ourselves, and blew all care to the winds. The passengers and
the captain were making merry in the same way in the cabin, drinking
toasts, and singing songs, and making speeches, and telling funny
stories, so the cabin-boy told us as he came forward convulsed with
laughter. The wind was fair and light, the sea was smooth, and no ship
floating on the ocean could have appeared more free from danger.
Suddenly there was a cry--a cry which, next to "Breakers ahead," is the
most terror-inspiring which can strike on a seaman's ear. It was,
"Fire! fire! fire!" Who uttered it? A man with frantic haste--horror
in his countenance--rushed up from the after hold. "Fire! fire! fire!"
he repeated. In an instant fore and aft the revellers in dismay sprang
from their seats and hurried on deck. The captain was calm and
collected, had he lost his presence of mind, who could have hoped to
escape? With rapid strides he reached the after-hatchway, out of which
streams of smoke were gushing forth. He summoned the passengers and
some of the crew to provide themselves with buckets, and to heave water
down upon the spot whence the smoke seemed to come, while the rest of
the crew were employed in pumping water into the hold. Wet sails and
blankets were brought, and, led by Mr Merton, some of the more daring
of the men leaped down with them, in the hopes of stifling the flames
before they burst forth. I followed the second mate; I knew the risk,
but I resolved to share it with him. "More blankets! more sails!" we
shouted. They were hove down to us; but in vain we threw them over the
lower hatchway. Thicker and thicker masses of smoke came gushing forth,
and we were obliged to cry out to be drawn up, and were almost
overpowered before we reached the deck. Two of our number had been left
behind. Mr Merton and I were about to return, when a loud explosion
was heard. Part of the deck was torn up, and flames burst fiercely
forth through the hatchway. It was very evident that some of the rum
casks had ignited, as was afterwards ascertained, by a candle having
been carelessly left burning in the hold.
All hopes of saving the ship were now abandoned. The boats could not
carry the entire crew and passengers. They were, however, instantly
lowered into the water with a boat-keeper in each, while the rest of the
people were told off, some to get up provisions and water, and others to
construct a raft. I was engaged on the raft, but remembering what I had
suffered on former occasions, I urged the people to take an ample supply
of water in each of the boats. Scarcely was the long-boat in the water
than the flames burst forth through the main hatchway, and had not the
captain been prompt in his orders, the boat itself would have been lost.
Provisions for the raft were put into the long-boat, while we were
working away at its construction. Every moment we expected to see the
flames burst forth from under our feet. We worked with might and main;
with our axes we cut away the after-bulwarks, so as to launch it
overboard. We had crowbars in our hands. It was barely finished.
"Heave away, my lads, heave away!" shouted the captain. "Now,
gentlemen; now, my men; those told off for the boats, be smart! Get
into them! No crowding, though."
The orders were obeyed, for everybody had learned to confide in the
captain's judgment. We meantime were urging the raft over the side.
"Quick! quick!" was the cry. With reason, too. The flames burst forth
close to our heels. With mighty efforts, by means of our crowbars, we
prized on the raft, it being balanced over the sea, yet the flames
almost caught it. One effort more. It plunged into the water. A rope
brought it up. Almost before it again rose to the surface we were
compelled by the devouring element behind us to leap on to it. The deck
gave way with a crash as we left it, and two more poor fellows sank back
into the flames. The painter was cut, and as the ship drove slowly away
from us, another loud explosion was heard, and fore and aft she was
wrapped in flames, which rose writhing and twisting up to her topgallant
masts.
"And there's an end of the fine old _Montezuma_. Well, she was a happy
ship!" exclaimed a seaman near me, passing his hand across his brow.
"You know, Weatherhelm, I've sailed in her since I was a boy, and I have
learned to look upon her pretty much as if she was my mother." I never
heard warmer praise bestowed on a merchantman.
Thus was I once more floating on a raft in the middle of the Atlantic.
"I thought it would be so," I muttered to myself. "My oath, my oath?"
While watching the conflagration of the ship, we had had no time to
think of our own condition. The boats had pulled off to some distance
from the burning ship, and we were left without oars, or sails, or
provisions. Night, too, was coming on. The dreadful idea occurred to
some of us, that those in the boats with their eyes dazzled by the glare
of the burning ship might not see the raft. The captain, by the urgent
request of the people, had gone in the long-boat. Mr Merton had
remained with us. We shouted--but in vain--the boats were too far off
to allow our voices to be heard. The night came on, but still we could
see the burning wreck, and we felt sure that while that beacon was in
sight, the boats would not give up their search for us. We forgot how
fast the wreck had been drifting away. Ours seemed a hard fate.
Without food or water, unless picked up we must evidently soon perish.
Mr Merton addressed us in a spirited, manly way. He told us not to
despair--that many poor fellows had been much worse off than we were,
and that certainly by daylight we should be seen by our shipmates in the
boats, and be supplied with what we wanted. If not, we were exactly in
the track of homeward-bound vessels coming from America, and that we
should be certainly fallen in with.
It was a very dreary night, though. All we could do was to sit quiet
and watch the burning wreck. Gradually the flames burnt lower and
lower. Then a huge glowing ember appeared, and that suddenly sank from
sight. In spite of our position, I had fallen asleep, when I was
aroused by a loud shout from my companions. It was in answer to a cry
which came floating over the water from a distance. We waited eagerly
listening. Again the far-off cry was repeated. Loudly we cheered in
return, for we were very hungry, and had not yet had time to grow weak
from hunger. In less than twenty minutes the boats came dashing up
round us, and we found ourselves amply supplied with provisions, which
we discussed with no small appetites. The captain then addressed us
all; he told us that we must husband our provisions and water, as we
could not tell when any vessel might fall in with us. He then urged the
people in the other boats to remain by the raft, and suggested that in
the day-time they should extend themselves about ten miles on either
side so as to have a wider field of observation, but in the night that
they should come back and hang on to the raft.
I ought to have said there were four boats, and thus we were able to
command a range of vision of at least fifty miles. That is to say--the
raft being in the centre--the boats were twenty miles apart, and from
each boat a sail of fifteen miles off could at all events be seen. The
plan was agreed on. We had secured a long spar, which we set up as a
mast in the centre of the raft, with a flag at its head, so that the
boats could always have us in view; besides which, several compasses had
been saved which would enable them to find us even in thick weather.
All we had now, therefore, much to fear from was bad weather and a long
detention, when we might run short of provisions. The day passed away,
and no sign of a vessel was perceived. The mate kept up our spirits by
every means in his power. He encouraged us to sing songs and tell
stories to each other, and to give an account of our adventures, and
then he told us some stories, and some of them were very funny, and made
us laugh, and I must say that I have passed many duller days than were
those which I spent on that raft. "And now, my lads," said he, "as we
cannot steer our course across the ocean without a compass, no more can
we our course through life without principles to guide us. Now the only
book which can give us right principles--can show us how to live--the
port we are bound for, and how to gain it, is one I have in my pocket."
We all wondered what he was aiming at, and he was silent for some little
time to allow our thoughts to settle down after the joking we had had.
Then he pulled out of his pocket a Bible, and took his seat on a cask in
the middle of the raft. "I am going to read to you from this Holy Book,
my lads, and I hope that you will listen to what I read--try to
understand it--think over it--and do what it tells you." I've often
since heard the word of God read to sailors, but never more
impressively; never to better effect, I believe, than I did on that raft
in the Atlantic.
Just at nightfall all the boats came back, and hung on to us during the
night, and nearly all the people went soundly to sleep. The captain in
the morning proposed that those in the boat should change places with
those on the raft, but we said that we were contented to be where we
were, and that we preferred remaining with Mr Merton. The next day
passed away much as the first, so did a third and fourth. In the
evening, however, of that last day, three boats only came back; the
whale-boat, commanded by the fourth mate, did not make her appearance.
Various were the surmises about her. Some thought that an accident had
happened to her; many expressed their fears that the mate had deserted
us, and abuse of no gentle nature was heaped on his and his companions'
heads. The only people who made no complaints, and only seemed anxious
to find excuses for him, were those on the raft. Why was this?
Because, as I fully believe, they were influenced by the principles of
Christian charity which the mate had been explaining to us, that
principle which thinketh no wrong, until evidence indubitable is brought
that wrong has been committed. Although we on the raft did not abuse
the first mate and those with him, we could not help feeling anxious for
his return. An hour of darkness passed away, and then another and
another, and still the whale-boat did not appear. She had gone, I ought
to have said, on the lee side of the raft; but the wind was light, so
that she could have had no difficulty in pulling up to it. No one this
night felt inclined to go to sleep. We were all too anxious about our
companions. I saw Mr Merton turning his eyes with a steady gaze away
to the south-east. I looked in the same direction. Gradually I saw
emerging out of the darkness an opaque, towering mass. At first I
thought it was a mere mark in the clouds, and then it resolved itself
into the form of a tall ship close-hauled under all canvas. A shout
from the boats showed that they had discovered the stranger. Again we
shouted, and a cheer came up from her to show us that we were seen and
heard. In a few minutes she hove-to, and our own whale-boat appeared
from alongside her, accompanied by another boat. The mate explained, as
he made a tow-rope fast to the raft to tow us alongside the ship, that
he had seen her just before nightfall, and by pulling away to the
southward had happily succeeded in cutting her off.
We soon found ourselves on board a large ship, the _Happy Relief_--and a
happy relief she was to us--bound homeward from Honduras with logwood.
They were a rough set on board, from the master to the apprentices, but
they treated us kindly, as most sailors treat others in distress, and we
had every reason to be grateful to them. We had still greater reason to
be thankful that we got on board their ship that night, for before the
morning a gale began to blow, and a heavy sea soon got up, which would
have swept us all off the raft, and in all probability swamped the
boats. It continued blowing for several days. The ship laboured very
much, and soon all hands were called to the pumps. She had proved a
fortunate ship to us, and it was a fortunate circumstance for her that
she had fallen in with us; for all hands had to keep spell and spell at
the pumps, and even so we were only just able to keep the leaks under.
Had she not had us on board, she would very soon, I suspect, have been
water-logged. At length the gale abated, but we notwithstanding, had to
keep the pumps going night and day. By the time we reached the Chops of
the Channel, having a fair breeze, we were looking out every instant to
make the land, when a big ship hove in sight, standing directly across
our course. The people on board the Honduras ship had told us that a
few days before they fell in with us, they had spoken an outward-bound
brig, from which they gained the news that war had broken out between
England and France and Spain. We made out the stranger to be a heavy
frigate, but as she showed no colours, to what nation she belonged we
could not tell. Some on board thought we ought to haul our wind on the
opposite tack to that she was on, so as to avoid her altogether. She
was standing with her head to the north. Our captain soon after gave
the order to brace up the yards on the larboard tack, hoping to run into
Mount's Bay or Falmouth harbour. We soon had proof that those on board
the frigate had their eyes on us. The smoke of a gun was seen to issue
from one of her bow ports, as a sign for us to heave-to, but the captain
thought he should first like to try the fleetness of his heels before he
gave in. So we continued our course to the northward. The frigate on
this braced her yards sharp up, and showed that she was not going to
allow us to escape her, and, by the way she walked along, we soon saw
that we should without fail become her prize.
All the men who had got two suits of clothes went and put them on, and
stowed away all their money and valuables in their pockets, and we all
of us began to think how we should like to see the inside of a Spanish
or French prison. For my part, I had heard such stories about the
cruelty of the Spaniards and French that I began to wish I was back
again on the raft in the middle of the Atlantic. One thing is
certain,--there is nothing harder than to become a prisoner at the
beginning of a war, to an enemy who hates you, with very little prospect
of being exchanged. All the glasses in the ship were turned towards the
frigate as she drew near, to try and make out what she was. Presently
she fired another gun across our bows, and this time she was within shot
of us, and at the same moment up went the British ensign. Seeing that
there was no chance of escape, our captain hove-to. I thought that as
she was an English ship, all was right, and could not make out the
reason of the agitation some of the older hands were in. In a quarter
of an hour or so, a boat with a lieutenant and a pretty strongly armed
crew came alongside. As he stepped on board, he went up to the captain
and told him about the war, and asked where he had come from, and
whether he had fallen in with any strange ships. "And now, captain,"
said he, quite calmly, "I should just like to see your crew. Muster
them on deck, if you please. You've a large number," he remarked, as
soon as we all appeared. The captain told him how he had picked so many
of us up at sea. "Ho, ho!" said the lieutenant; "come here, my lads;
you'd be glad to serve his Majesty, I know."
And he told all the crew of the _Montezuma_, except the captain and
first mate, to get into his boat.
There was no little grumbling at this, but he did not appear like a man
who would stand any nonsense of this sort, so it went no further. "But
those two are apprentices," said Captain Horner, pointing to Charley and
me, and forgetting that we were both out of our indentures.
"Stout lads for apprentices," remarked the lieutenant. "Let me see your
papers." Now it might have been said, as we had been wrecked, that we
had lost them, but I would not tell a lie to gain any object.
"Please, sir," said I, "the captain makes a mistake. I was out of my
indentures a few days ago. I've no protection, and I don't want any.
I, for one, am ready to serve his Majesty and to fight for my country."
Charley hearing me say this, declared himself of the same mind, and
wishing Captain Horner and the captain of the Honduras ship good-bye,
and thanking them, we went over to the side ready to step into the boat.
The lieutenant said he liked our spirit, and that he should keep his
eye on us, and if we behaved well he should recommend us for promotion.
This was satisfactory, but still I felt that all my prospects of
becoming a mate were blown to the wind. The person who felt it most was
Mr Merton. From being an officer (and a gentleman he always was) he
was reduced to the rank of a common seaman. What was far worse, too, he
was engaged to be married, as soon as he returned home, to the daughter
of a clergyman, who, Charley told me, was quite a lady. Now, poor
fellow, for what he could tell, years might pass before he would be able
to return on shore.
"Well, my man, are you ready to go?" said the lieutenant to him.
"I was second mate of the ship, and have private affairs which require
my presence in England, sir," he answered, quite calmly; and his voice
showed that he was a man of education.
"That is no protection, I am afraid," said the lieutenant. "Duty is not
always pleasant, but it must be done."
"Very true, sir," said Mr Merton; "but let me write a line to send
home, and speak a few words to my late captain. I will not detain you."
"I can give you five minutes," said the lieutenant, pulling out his
watch.
Mr Merton thanked him and hurried below.
Poor fellow! What words of anguish and sorrow did he pour out in that
letter; yet, I doubt not, he expressed his own resignation, and
endeavoured to encourage her to whom it was addressed to hope that yet
happy days were in store for them. He entrusted the letter to the
captain, and begged him to go and see and comfort the lady to whom it
was addressed. Then with a calm countenance he appeared on deck, and
signified to the lieutenant that he was ready to accompany him, I doubt
not he felt like a brave man going to execution.
The frigate we were on board was the _Brilliant_, of forty guns, and, as
I looked round and saw what perfect order she was in, I thought her a
very fine ship, and except that I regretted not being able to return
home, I was perfectly content to belong to her. Men-of-war in those
days were very different to what they are at present. Men of all
classes were shipped on board, often out of the prisons and hulks, and
the sweepings of the streets. Quantity was looked-for because quality
could not be got. An able seaman was a great prize. The pressgangs
were always at work on shore, and they thought themselves fortunate when
such could be found. Now, with such a mixture of men, the bad often
outnumbering the good, very strict and stern discipline was necessary.
The very first day I got on board I saw five men flogged for not being
smart enough at reefing topsails. I thought it very cruel, and it set
me against the service. I did not inquire who the men were. I found
afterwards that they were idle rascals who deserved punishment, and
always went about their duty in a lazy, sluggish way. However, there
was no doubt that our captain was a very taut hand. The ship had just
come out of harbour. He had found out that the greater part of his crew
were a bad lot, and he was getting them into order. He treated us who
had belonged to the _Montezuma_ in a very different way. He saw that we
were seamen, and he valued us accordingly. Still I think there was more
punishment on board than was absolutely necessary. We had nine powerful
fellows doing duty as boatswain's mates on board, and there was starting
and flogging going on every day and all day long. The first time I ever
saw a man punished I felt sick at heart, and thought I should have
fallen on deck, but I recovered myself and looked out afterwards with
very little concern.
The frigate I found was bound on a six months' cruise in the Bay of
Biscay, not the quietest place in the world in the winter season. Mr
Merton was very soon made captain of the fore-top, and Charley and I
were stationed on the top with him. Owing to him, I believe, we avoided
being flogged, for he was always alive and brisk and kept us up to our
duty. After all, there's nothing like doing things briskly. There's no
pleasure in being slow and sluggish about doing a thing, and a great
waste of time. Mr Merton soon attracted the notice of the officers,
and they used to address him very differently to the way they spoke to
the other men. There was in the top with us a young midshipman: he was
a fine little lad--full of life, and fun, and daring. He was the son or
heir of some great lord or other, and a relation of the captain's, who
had promised especially to look after him. Well, one day the ship was
running before the wind with studden sails set alow and aloft and every
sail drawing, so that she was going not less than eight or ten knots,
when this youngster, with two or three others, was skylarking aloft. He
had gone out on the fore-topsail yard-arm, when somehow or other he lost
his hold and down he fell. Fortunately, he struck the belly of the
lower studden sail, which broke his fall and sent him clear of the ship
into the sea. Just at that moment Mr Merton was coming up into the
top. He saw the accident. Almost before the sentry at the gangway
could cry out, "A man overboard!" he was in the water striking out to
catch hold of the youngster, who couldn't swim a stroke. At that moment
the captain came on deck. He was in a great state of agitation when he
heard who it was who had fallen overboard. Studden sail-sheets were let
fly. No one minded the spars, though they were all cracking away; the
helm was put down, the yards were braced sharp up, and the ship was
brought close on a wind.
Meantime Mr Merton was striking out towards where young Mr Bouverie
had gone down. All eyes were directed to the spot. "Now he sees him.
He strikes out with all his might to catch him before the youngster
sinks again. He has him--he has him, hurra!" Such were the cries
uttered on every side, for the youngster was a favourite with all hands.
A boat was instantly lowered, and Mr Merton was brought on board with
the youngster he had rescued, both of them nearly exhausted. The
midshipman was carried into the captain's cabin. Mr Merton, when he
had shifted his wet things, returned on deck to his duty. The captain,
however, immediately sent for him, and told him that he could not find
words to express his gratitude. Mr Merton thanked him, and said that
he had merely done his duty, and did not consider which of the
midshipmen it was he was going to try to save.
"Well, you have prevented a mother's heart from being wrung with agony,
and a noble house from going into mourning," said the captain. "You
deserve to be rewarded." Mr Merton thanked him, and went about his
duty, thinking little more of the matter.
Now, although seamen know how to value a man who has leaped overboard,
at the risk of his own life, to save a fellow-creature from drowning,
they do not make much fuss about it, because most of them would be ready
to do the same thing themselves. Still, it was easy to see that Joe
Merton, as he was called by the ship's company, was raised yet higher in
their estimation.
After we had been at sea some time we stood away to the westward. One
forenoon, a shout from the masthead announced a sail in sight.
"Where away?" asked the officer of the watch.
"On the weather bow," was the answer. "There are two--three--four--the
whole horizon is studded with them," cried the look-out.
The officers were pretty quickly aloft to see what the strangers could
be, for some thought perhaps it was an enemy's fleet. As they drew
near, however, they were pronounced to be merchantmen, and before long
we ascertained by their signals that they were part of a homeward-bound
West India convoy, which had been separated in a gale of wind, off the
banks of Newfoundland, from the ships of war in charge of them. Finding
that they were totally unprotected, our captain made up his mind that it
was his duty to see them safe into port, and signalling to them to keep
together and put themselves under his orders, he invited some of the
masters of the vessels near him to come on board to give him the news.
Among other things, he learned that a fast-sailing French privateer had
been hovering about them for some time, and had already picked off two,
if not more, of their number, both heavily laden and valuable ships
belonging to London; and the masters were of opinion that she had
carried them into Santa Cruz, a harbour in the island of Teneriffe, one
of the Canaries, because they had spoken an American vessel, the master
of which told them that he had passed two such ships, accompanied by a
craft answering to the description of the privateer, steering for that
place. This information made the captain in a greater hurry than ever
to get back to England, as he had made up his mind, as it afterwards
appeared, to go and try to cut the ships out.
A strong westerly wind sprang up soon after this, and carried us in five
days, with all our convoy, safe into Plymouth Sound. Now, for the first
time after so many years, I found myself back at the place where I had
passed my childhood, and where the only relations I had ever known, the
only beings whose love I had any right to claim, resided. How eagerly I
gazed on the shore, and I thought even that I could make out the little
neat white row of cottages outside the town, in one of which my
grandmother and aunt lived! But now came the question, how could I hope
to get on shore? It was not likely that any leave would be granted, as
we guessed that the frigate would not remain more than a day or two in
harbour. The captain had gone on shore to we the admiral, and the first
lieutenant was also called away, so that the ship was left in charge of
the second lieutenant, who had pressed me. I knew that I was not likely
to get what I wanted by holding back, so I made bold and went up to him
and told him how I had left my grandmother when I was a boy, and had
been kept knocking about ever since, and had only once, for a few hours,
set my foot on English ground in the London docks, and how I would give
anything if I might just run up and see how the old lady and my aunt
were, and show them that I was alive.
"I think I may trust you, my lad," said the lieutenant, looking hard at
me. "But who will be answerable for you?"
"Mr Merton, sir. I know he will. He has known me for some time," I
answered earnestly. The lieutenant smiled; he was not accustomed to
hear a topman have a mister put to his name. "I mean Joe Merton--beg
pardon, sir," said I, "he was my officer for some years."
"No offence, my man; I like to hear a person speak respectfully of those
above him," answered the lieutenant. "He is your officer still, I
fancy. Well, if you can get him to be answerable for you, you may go on
shore for ten hours. I cannot give you longer leave than that."
"Thank you, sir; thank you," said I, and I hurried below to look for Mr
Merton. I found him hard at work writing a letter to send on shore; but
he instantly jumped up, and accompanied me on deck to assure the
lieutenant that I would return. So on shore I went with great joy; but
my knees almost trembled as I walked up the steep streets towards the
part of the town where my grandmother and aunt lived. I had seen a good
many strange places since last I walked down those streets on my way to
join the _Kite_, and though, after thinking a moment, I easily found the
road without asking, the houses seemed changed somehow or other. They
were lower and narrower and less fine-looking than I expected. At last
I reached the quiet little house I knew so well. By climbing up an iron
railing before it I could, when a boy, look into the parlour over the
blind. There wag no necessity to climb now. By holding on by the rail,
and stretching myself upon my toes, I could easily look in; I could not
help doing so before knocking. There I saw an old lady with a neat
white cap and dressed in black, bending over her knitting. Her back was
towards me; but somehow or other I did not think that it could be
Granny. Her figure was too small and slight for that of Aunt Bretta.
Who could it be then? My heart sank within me. It was some minutes
before I could muster courage to knock. At last I went up to the door.
A little girl opened it. She was deaf and dumb, so she did not
understand what I said, and I could not understand her signs.
"Come in," said a voice from the parlour. "Who is that? what does he
want?"
On this I pushed open the parlour door, and then I saw the old lady whom
I had observed through the window, seated in an arm-chair, with her
knitting in her hand. I looked at her very hard. "I am Willand, your
grandchild, Granny!" I exclaimed, springing across the room.
"Young man, you have made a strange mistake," said the old lady, in a
voice which sent a chill through my heart. "I never had a grandchild.
You take me for some one else."
"Beg pardon, marm," said I, trying to recover myself. "I took you for
my grandmother, Mrs Wetherholm, who once lived here. I have been at
sea for many years, and have never heard from her or my aunt. Can you
tell me where they are gone?"
"Sit down, young man, and let me think. I cannot answer all in a
hurry," said she, and I thought her tone was much pleasanter than at
first. "Your name is Wetherholm, is it? and what ship did you go to sea
in?" I told her. "The _Kite_! That is strange," said she. "I should
know something about that vessel. If Margaret were here, she would tell
me, but my memory is not as good as it was. You want to know where your
relatives are. Now I come to think of it, the old lady who lived in
this house before me had a daughter. They came, I have heard, like my
poor niece's family, from Shetland. Wetherholm was her name. Then I am
sorry to say, young man, that she is dead."
"Dead!" I exclaimed. "Dear Granny dead!" And my heart came all of a
sudden into my throat, and I fairly burst out crying as I should have
done when a boy. For some time I could not stop myself; but I put my
face between my hands, and bent down as I sat, trying to prevent the
tears finding their way through my fingers. I hadn't had such a cry
since I was a little boy, and then I felt very differently, I know. The
old lady did not say a word, but let me have it out.
"That will do you good, young man," said she at length. "I don't think
the worse of you for those tears, remember that."
I thanked her very much for her sympathy, and then asked her if she
could tell me anything about Aunt Bretta.
"I can't tell you myself," she answered; "but Miss Rundle, who lives
next door, knew her well; and I'll just send and ask her to step in, and
she will give you all the information you want."
The old lady summoned her little deaf and dumb girl, and signing to her,
in two minutes Miss Rundle made her appearance. I remembered Miss
Rundle, and used to think her a very old woman then, but she did not
look a day older, but rather younger than when I went away. I had no
little difficulty in persuading her who I was, and at first I thought
she seemed rather shocked at seeing a common sailor sitting down in her
friend's parlour. However, at last I convinced her that I was no other
than the long-lost Willand Wetherholm. She told me how my grandmother
had long mourned at my absence, still believing that I was alive and
would return, and always praying for my safety. At length she
sickened--to the last expecting to see me. She had died about two years
before; "and then," added my old acquaintance, "the good old lady sleeps
quietly in the churchyard hard by. I often take a look at her
tombstone. Her name is on it; you may see it there."
"That I will," said I. "It will do my heart good to go and see dear
Granny's tombstone, as I cannot ever set eyes on her kind face again."
When I asked about Aunt Bretta, Miss Rundle bridled up a little, I
thought.
"Well, she was my friend," said she; "and she was a very good woman, and
I used to have a great respect for her. Nobody made orange marmalade
better than she did, or raspberry jam; and as for knitting, there was no
one equalled her in all the country round. I have several of the bits
of work she gave me, and I value them; but still I don't see what right
one's friends have to go and demean themselves."
Rather astonished at these remarks, I asked what had happened.
"Why, young man, she went and got married," said Miss Rundle, drawing
herself up.
"I don't see any great harm in her doing that," remarked the old lady.
"No, marm, not in marrying," answered Miss Rundle, somewhat sharply.
"It's a very lawful state to get into, I dare say; but I find fault with
her in respect to the person to whom she got married. I don't want to
offend the feelings of this young man, her nephew; but what was he but a
common sailor, and more than that, he had a wooden leg."
"Aunt Bretta married to a common sailor with a wooden leg!" said I,
scarcely knowing what I was saying, yet not thinking that there was
anything very shocking in the matter. "What sort of a man was he, marm?
and can you tell me where they are gone, and where I shall find them? I
long to see Aunt Bretta again."
"I won't deny that he was a pretty good-looking man enough, and as we do
now and then exchange letters, I can tell you where she is to be found,"
answered Miss Rundle, softening down a little. "They live at Southsea,
near Portsmouth. Her husband was an old shipmate of one of her
brothers--your father, perhaps--and that is the way they became
acquainted. His name is Kelson; you'll find them without difficulty."
"Aunt Bretta hasn't any family?" said I. "I should like to have a dozen
little cousins to play with when I go to see her."
Miss Rundle looked very much shocked at the question, and said that as
she had not been married much more than a year, that wasn't very likely.
Well, though all Miss Rundle's talk had for the moment driven away my
sad thought, as soon as we were silent I felt very low-spirited and
melancholy. I said that I would go up and have a walk through the
churchyard, and the old lady begged that I would come back and take tea
with her, when her niece would be there, who would be glad to hear me
talk about the sea. Miss Rundle said that she had an engagement, and
was very sorry she could not stop; but the old lady signed to the little
girl to accompany me to point out my grandmother's tomb, remarking that
I might otherwise have some difficulty in finding it.
The child tripped away before me, and we soon reached the churchyard.
She pointed out an unpretending white little slab of stone in a quiet
corner, with a number of wild-flowers growing round it, and then,
looking up into my face with an earnest, commiserating look, she nodded
and ran off. I walked up to the stone and read a short inscription--
"ELLA WETHERHOLM LIES BENEATH.
HOPE, IF ON ME YOUR HOPE IS PLACED."
I felt very sad and grave, but I had no longer an inclination to cry.
"She wrote that for herself," I thought. "I'll try and hope as she
hoped, and perhaps her prayers may lighten, if they do not remove, the
heavy curse I brought down on my head."
With regard to the curse I fancied was following me, I now know that I
was entirely mistaken. Our loving Father in Heaven does not curse His
creatures, though He permits for their benefit the consequences of sin
to fall on their heads.
I will not repeat all the ideas which passed across my mind. I was not
nearly so sad as I might have expected. I had met with sympathy and
kindness, though from a stranger, and that lightened the burden; and
then, though Miss Rundle was an odd creature, I could not help feeling
pleased at seeing her again, and hearing from her about my aunt. I had
little fear about her marriage, and I had every expectation of finding
the sailor she had married, some fine old fellow well worthy of her,
even though he had been all his life before the mast. While I was
sitting down beside my grandmother's grave, and thinking of the years
that were past, the days of my childhood, and the many strange things
which had since occurred to me, every now and then reading over the
words on the tombstone: "Hope!--if on me your hope is placed," and
trying to understand their full meaning, and very full I found it, I
happened to look up, and then I saw at a little distance a young woman
who seemed to have been passing along a path across the churchyard,
regarding me attentively. She was dressed in black, which made her look
very fair and pale, and certainly I had never seen anybody else in all
my life who came up in appearance to what I should fancy an angel in
heaven would look like. This is what I thought at the moment. When she
saw that she was observed, she drew her shawl instinctively closer
around her, and moved on.