I
The good ship _Nupple-duck_ was drifting rapidly upon a sunken coral
reef, which seemed to extend a reasonless number of leagues to the right
and left without a break, and I was reading Macaulay's "Naseby Fight" to
the man at the wheel. Everything was, in fact, going on as nicely as
heart could wish, when Captain Abersouth, standing on the
companion-stair, poked his head above deck and asked where we were.
Pausing in my reading, I informed him that we had got as far as the
disastrous repulse of Prince Rupert's cavalry, adding that if he would
have the goodness to hold his jaw we should be making it awkward for the
wounded in about three minutes, and he might bear a hand at the pockets
of the slain. Just then the ship struck heavily, and went down!
Calling another ship, I stepped aboard, and gave directions to be taken
to No. 900 Tottenham Court Road, where I had an aunt; then, walking aft
to the man at the wheel, asked him if he would like to hear me read
"Naseby Fight." He thought he would: he would like to hear that, and
then I might pass on to something else--Kinglake's "Crimean War," the
proceedings at the trial of Warren Hastings, or some such trifle, just
to wile away the time till eight bells.
All this time heavy clouds had been gathering along the horizon directly
in front of the ship, and a deputation of passengers now came to the man
at the wheel to demand that she be put about, or she would run into
them, which the spokesman explained would be unusual. I thought at the
time that it certainly was not the regular thing to do, but, as I was
myself only a passenger, did not deem it expedient to take a part in the
heated discussion that ensued; and, after all, it did not seem likely
that the weather in those clouds would be much worse than that in
Tottenham Court Road, where I had an aunt.
It was finally decided to refer the matter to arbitration, and after
many names had been submitted and rejected by both sides, it was agreed
that the captain of the ship should act as arbitrator if his consent
could be obtained, and I was delegated to conduct the negotiations to
that end. With considerable difficulty, I persuaded him to accept the
responsibility.
He was a feeble-minded sort of fellow named Troutbeck, who was always in
a funk lest he should make enemies; never reflecting that most men would
a little rather be his enemies than not. He had once been the ship's
cook, but had cooked so poisonously ill that he had been forcibly
transferred from galley to quarter-deck by the dyspeptic survivors of
his culinary career.
The little captain went aft with me to listen to arguments of the
dissatisfied passengers and the obstinate steersman, as to whether we
should take our chances in the clouds, or tail off and run for the
opposite horizon; but on approaching the wheel, we found both helmsman
and passengers in a condition of profound astonishment, rolling their
eyes about towards every point of the compass, and shaking their heads
in hopeless perplexity. It was rather remarkable, certainly: the bank of
cloud which had worried the landsmen was now directly astern, and the
ship was cutting along lively in her own wake, toward the point from
which she had come, and straight away from Tottenham Court Road!
Everybody declared it was a miracle; the chaplain was piped up for
prayers, and the man at the wheel was as truly penitent as if he had
been detected robbing an empty poor-box.
The explanation was simple enough, and dawned upon me the moment I saw
how matters stood. During the dispute between the helmsman and the
deputation, the former had renounced his wheel to gesticulate, and I,
thinking no harm, had amused myself, during a rather tedious debate, by
revolving the thing this way and that, and had unconsciously put the
ship about. By a coincidence not unusual in low latitudes, the wind had
effected a corresponding transposition at the same time, and was now
bowling us as merrily back toward the place where I had embarked, as it
had previously wafted us in the direction of Tottenham Court Road, where
I had an aunt. I must here so far anticipate, as to explain that some
years later these various incidents--particularly the reading of "Naseby
Fight"--led to the adoption, in our mercantile marine, of a rule which I
believe is still extant, to the effect that one must not speak to the
man at the wheel unless the man at the wheel speaks first.