THE MYSTERIOUS HINDOO
With the Hindoo question solved and the fisherman's staysails set, Suva
was lost in the distance and remained but a memory. By the time the
studded diamonds in their azure setting were twinkling in all the
splendor of a Southern sky, we were well to the westward of Bangor
Island. We had nothing to fear from coral reefs until we neared the
Gilbert group, which lay east of the 180th meridian and north and south
of the Equator.
After the Hindoo had eaten the milk toast and found that he was in the
midst of friends, sailing away to a country where opportunity knocks on
the door of hovels, he no longer looked the slave to his master. He
refused to bunk in the forecastle, preferring to sleep under the
forecastle head. The tropical nights were warm, and for the time being
this was a comfortable part of the ship in which to sleep. The crew
were kind enough to furnish blankets for him, in fact, were willing to
give him anything they had, for they considered him an unusual guest.
At ten o'clock I turned in and left orders with the second mate to call
me at midnight. By that time I knew that if we held our present rate of
eleven knots per hour, we should be far enough to the westward to change
the course, and haul her more northerly. Coming on deck at eight bells
and getting the distance run on the log, I went back to my room to
measure the distance on the chart before changing the course. I decided
to run one more hour before changing to the northward.
Old Charlie was at the wheel, and it seemed from the way he was clearing
his throat that he was anxious for a chat. But discipline forbade. I
walked forward to look at the sails, and see if they needed sweating up.
While looking around I ran into Riley, who as usual was smoking his clay
pipe, with its black bowl and short stem. It was strong enough of
nicotine to drive a wharf-rat to suicide.
"Riley," said I, "no doubt you are happy that we are on the last leg of
our voyage."
Before answering he gave a few heavy puffs on the old dudeen to insure
its not going out. While he was doing this I immediately changed for a
new position to windward, for to be caught to leeward of these deadly
fumes was to share the fate of the wharf-rat.
"Well," said Riley, "I am, and I am not."
"Come," I replied, "what is it that troubles you?" Thinking that I had
found the source of his discontent, I added,--"Surely, you can't expect
me to feed you on Scotch whiskey all the passage home? What little there
is on board must be kept for medicine. Just think what might have
happened to the poor Hindoo had I not had a little Scotch left on
board."
At the mention of the Hindoo's name Riley stepped up close to me,
saying, "Whisht, and it is that what is troubling me, it is that damned
coolie," and he pointed to the forecastle.
"Surely," I protested, "you are not afraid of that poor weak creature."
Riley fastened down the tin cover to his pipe so as to secure the
remains of the tobacco for future use. Economy of tobacco is strictly
observed on long voyages. Even the ashes have an intrinsic value among
sailors, like the kindling wood of a coal stove. Tucking the pipe away
in the folds of his breeches, he said:
"Ho, ho, and it is afraid you would have me! Shure'n I am afraid of
nothing in the say, and I will be damned if I will be afraid of anything
on top of it."
"Well, what about the Hindoo, what harm can he do to you?"
"Oh, it's the divil a bit he will be doing me. It's his snaky movements
and his ferret eyes that is getting on me nerves. During the dog-watch,"
continued Riley, "we fixed a place under the foc's'le head for the
coolie, giving him what blankets we could spare. At eight o'clock our
watch below turned in. Says I to Dago Joe, 'Turn down the glim.' 'I will
blow it out,' says he. 'Not by a damn sight,' says I. 'Shur'n we are
liable to scrape our bottom on an auld coral reef around here, and it
isn't Mike Riley that is going to get caught like a rat in a trap.' The
Dago is a reasonable man to talk to, and with that he turns the light
very low. About eleven o'clock I woke up along the hearing Broken-Nosed
Pete snoring. After throwing me auld shoe at him, I rolled over with me
face to the scuttle hatch, to get meself another nap before eight bells,
when I see the Hindoo standing there at the bottom of the ladder. I
rubbed me eye to make sure it wasn't desayving me. Pulling meself
together, I says to meself, says I, 'Whativer he is, he is there for no
good purpose.' Begob, the strangest thing about the coolie was that he
did not move a muscle, but stood there like a statue, staring straight
into me eye.
"I shouted to the Dago to turn up the light, which is within easy reach
of him. Says I, 'Things are not as they should be down here.' With me
eye still on the Hindoo, Dago Joe turned up the light. I declare to me
Maker when the light was turned up the Hindoo had disappeared.
"'That's damned strange,' says I to Dago Joe. 'Be Hivens he was standing
there not a minute ago,' and when I comes up on deck at eight bells I
looked under the foc's'le head and there he is, fast asleep. So I lights
me poipe, and takes a look over the sea to leeward of the foresail, to
see if we are still in sight of land. While I am standing there humming
a bit av an auld ditty, all of a sudden I felt meself in the presence
of something uncanny, and turning around quick-like, there stood the
coolie. Ses I to him, ses I:
"'What are you up to, me boy?'
"'Oh,' says the coolie, 'the wash on the prow is disturbing to my
peaceful slumbers. I should much prefer being crooned to sleep by the
waving branches of a Himalayan evergreen.'
"Ses I, 'Me coolie friend, no more of your palavering. Back to bed with
you, and stay there.' I looked at him again, and, shure, Howly St.
Patrick, he disappears like he did in the foc's'le."
"Where is he now, Riley?"
"Begobs, and I don't know, sir."
I went forward to see the strange visitor who seemed to be causing Riley
so much misery. There, under the forecastle head, the Hindoo lay,
wrapped in his blankets, sound asleep.
"Riley," said I, "you drank too much Scotch last night; be careful that
you don't get the Jimmies and jump overboard. If you feel yourself
slipping just tie a gasket around you. We need you to work ship on the
voyage home."
These insults were too much for Riley. He slunk away to the lookout
where Broken-Nosed Pete would lend a willing ear to his story of the
Hindoo and his abuse of me.
At one o'clock, feeling sure of the reefs, I changed the course to N. N.
W.
The next morning the Hindoo was eating his breakfast off the forehatch
and looking much better than he had on the preceding evening. He rose
and thanked me kindly for the interest we had taken in him, saying:
"I feel the pleasure of liberty after my prison term, among those
terrible people. As for last night, I was quite comfortable. I can
easily adapt myself to the new environment. But although I could not
quite understand what the one-eyed man meant when he bent over me in the
night, exclaiming, 'There he is, and the divil a move out of him,' I
feel nevertheless, that I am in the midst of friends, and I shall do my
best to entertain their friendship."
These quaint expressions were pleasing to me, and I continued the
conversation. He said that he had had no sea experience. That while
going from Bombay to the Fiji Islands he was battened down in the hold
with the rest of the coolie labor, and only allowed to walk the deck a
short time in the evenings. He was anxious to work and help in any way
that he could. The second mate put him to work scrubbing paint-work.
There is always plenty of this kind of work to be done on every ship.
The Hindoo went to work with a will, as if glad to have the opportunity.
For the next four days the southeast trades held fair, until we were
well to the northward of the Fiji group. I was hoping to get east of the
180th meridian before crossing the Equator, This would give me a better
slant before I struck the northeast trades. Then in latitude about 30°
north we would encounter the westerly winds, which would be fair for the
Pacific coast.
I was well pleased with the progress we had made since we left Suva, and
I anticipated making a sailing record from the Fijis to San Francisco.
Events had favored us since our departure. The crew were willing and the
good ship herself seemed to feel that she was homeward bound. But our
outward peace was somewhat broken by the sudden and mysterious illness
of the Hindoo, who, after the second day out from Suva refused to eat,
complaining of a headache, and later remaining for hours in what
appeared to be almost a state of coma.
I was worried by this new disease, and hoped that it would not prove to
be contagious. As a precautionary measure, I removed the Hindoo aft to
the deceased Captain's cabin. For two days it was with a great effort
that he was even aroused to drink a cup of bouillon.