A Lad of Grit: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea in Restoration Times
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CHAPTER V--Of my First Ship, the _Gannet_
Once it had been settled that I should go to sea, my uncle lost no timein getting me a ship. Through his influence, his intimacy with SirThomas Middleton, and also through the interest which Sir Thomas showedtowards me, the matter was an easy one, and before August was out Ifound myself being escorted down to the dockyard to join the _Gannet_.
This stout craft I must describe. She was of six hundred tons burthenand pierced for fifty guns. She had three masts, besides a small one ather bowsprit-head. When first I saw her she was having a new mizzenfitted, her old mast having been lost in a gale outside the Wight.
Her figurehead represented a man on horseback trampling on a Dutchman, aFrenchman, a Spaniard, and an Algerine. I was told that the horsemanwas supposed to be the arch-traitor, Old Noll, but a clever hewer ofwood had caused all likeness of the great rebel to disappear, and hadgraven instead the features of honest George, now created Duke ofAlbemarle.
Her stern gallery was upheld by a row of gilt figures representing thathero of mythology, Master Atlas, of whom my father used to speak; whileover the gallery towered three enormous lanterns, and above everythingwas a maze of spars and rigging that confused me not a little, thoughbefore long I was well acquainted with the names of all of them.
This much did I see from the dockyard wall, for the _Gannet_ was lyingat anchor in the harbour. One of the seamen on the quay hailed herthrough a speaking-trumpet, and presently a longboat came off for us,manned by ten lusty rowers, while a boy of about my own age sat in thestern-sheets steering the boat and giving orders to the men as if thecommanding of the boat had been his life-long business.
Directly we embarked--that is, my uncle, my cousin Maurice, andmyself--the boat pushed off, and urged by long strokes soon covered thedistance betwixt the shore and the ship. As she neared the latter theyoungster shouted: "Oars!" in such a loud voice that I thought somethinghad happened. The rowers immediately tossed their oars, while the boatran alongside the _Gannet_.
We climbed by a steep ladder up the rounding side of the ship, my uncleperforming the feat with surprising agility, though he was puffingheartily when he gained the deck and took off his hat to the royal armsthat graced the quarterdeck at the break of the poop.
We were received by the captain, one Adrian Poynings, said to be adescendant of the fiery governor of Portsmouth who bore the same name,and whose will was the terror of the inhabitants of Portsmouth in thedays of Queen Bess.
The captain did not appear to bear the same reputation as did hisancestor. He seemed, for a king's officer, a very mild-manneredgentleman, for when speaking to his subordinates he would say: "DesireMaster So-and-so to do this", or "Desire the bos'n to be sent to me";and so on.
Having been introduced to him, I was sent off in charge of a midshipmanto be shown round the ship. This youngster, whose name was GrevilleDrake (a remote relation of the immortal Sir Francis Drake), was one ofthe six gentlemen midshipmen serving on the ship. He appeared to be akeen young officer, knowing the ins and outs of everything, yet withalhe was of a roguish disposition, and given to skylarking. Before long wewere excellent friends.
Having inspected the waist of the ship, the main and upper gundecks, heled me below to the orlop deck, where right aft was situated the gunroomor midshipmen's mess.
Here, illuminated by the glimmer of a couple of purser's dips, or tallowcandles, was the place where for the next two or three years I was tolive and sleep--otherwise my floating home. The heavy beams were so lowthat I was obliged to stoop when passing underneath them. Innumerablecockroaches crawled across the floor or attempted to climb the sides ofthe cabin, till pinked by a well-directed thrust with a sail-needle.
There were four other midshipmen, taking things as easily as theirsurroundings would permit, and on our entry I was warmly greeted with avolley of remarks that were both good-natured and humorous.
But my tour of the _Gannet_ was by no means finished, my mentorevidently meaning to make me thoroughly acquainted with the ship. Belowthe orlop deck we went, passing down a steep ladder to the flats, orpart of the ship immediately above the ballast. The amidship portion ofthis space is termed the cockpit, and, though nearly empty, it did notrequire much imagination on my part to see the forms of mangled seamendimly outlined in the feeble glimmer of the lantern, young Drake tellingme of some of the ghastly sights of the cockpit during action in ahighly-worded and realistic style.
I could discern the heels of the fore and main masts, and the well ofthe ship's pump, while farther away was a stack of imperishable ship'sstores, from which a number of rats darted, seemingly unmindful of ourpresence.
When we gained the daylight once more I blinked like an owl, breathingin the fresh air with a relish that the stifling atmosphere of betweendecks had caused; but short was my respite, for my new friend asked mewhether I would be bold enough to go to the foretopmast head.
Not wishing to be thought a coward, and having had plenty of experienceof tree-climbing, I assented; and Drake, kicking off his shoes,immediately sprang into the shrouds, making his way aloft withmarvellous rapidity.
I followed, clinging tenaciously to the shrouds with my hands, while mybare feet were tortured by the contact with the sharp ratlines. However,I stuck to it, followed Drake over the futtock shrouds, where for aspace I felt like a fly on a ceiling, and at length gained the foretop.
Without pausing for breath my guide literally jumped into the topmastshrouds, and before I had attempted to follow he was perched upon thecrosstrees. Five minutes later I was by his side, and I must confessthat on looking down I experienced a feeling of giddiness that requireda strong effort on my part to overcome. Eighty feet below, the decklooked like a long, narrow strip of dazzling white planks, the crewappearing no larger than manikins.
"You have pluck, Aubrey," remarked Drake. "I thought you would haveshrunk from the task, or, in any case, have climbed no farther than theforetop. And you didn't crawl through the lubber's hole, either!"
"The lubber's hole! What's that?"
"Those openings on the tops. Greenhorns generally scramble throughthose instead of going over the futtock shrouds. I say, can you swim?"
"No," I replied. "An old shipman whom I know, one Master Collings, ofGosport, used to say that swimming was a useless art, for when a manfell overboard his agony was only unduly prolonged."
"Ah! Many an old seaman thinks the same, but nevertheless to be able toswim comes in very handy. Supposing you fell overboard; well, in ninecases out of ten you would be picked up again if you could swim. I'vebeen knocked overboard as often as four times and I am still here. Now,take the first opportunity and let me teach you."
I thanked my newly-found friend for his offer, and, now thoroughlyrested, I began my descent to the deck, grasping the shrouds tightly andfeeling very gingerly with one foot till I found a secure foothold.
On gaining the deck I saw that my uncle and the captain had beenwatching my manoeuvres, both being well satisfied with my maiden effortsat going aloft.
The time of parting had come, and dry-eyed, though with a curiousfeeling in my throat, I bade farewell to my uncle and cousin Maurice.
I watched them row ashore, waving my handkerchief as they went, and whenthey reached the wharf they waited to see the _Gannet_ get under way.
It was a busy scene, and an operation in which I could take no part.The captain gave the ship in charge to the master; the red cross of St.George was struck at the gaff and run up to the peak. The shrill notesof the bosn's whistle had hardly died away when the rigging was alivewith men; the canvas was spread from the yards as if by magic, and allthat remained was to break the anchor out, the cable already being hoveshort.
A part of the crew manned the capstan bars, a fiddler being perched onthe capstan head. "Heave round the capstan," came the order, and with apatter of bare feet, the clanking of the pawls, and the merry lilt ofthe fiddle, the cable came inboard.
"Up and down," sh
outed a man stationed for'ard, meaning the anchor hasleft its muddy bed. "Now, then, my hearties, heave and away!" And toan increased pace the anchor came home.
A medley of other orders, unintelligible to me, followed; the sheetswere hauled well home, the braces and bowlines made taut, and by thepeculiar gliding sensation that followed I knew the _Gannet_ was underway.
The old town of Portsmouth appeared to slip past our larboard quarter,and presently the ship was lifting to the gentle swell, as,close-hauled, we headed towards the English Channel.
Thus commenced the three years' cruise of my first ship, His Majesty'sship _Gannet_, and I soon accustomed myself to the routine, showing akeen interest in the duties of a midshipman; and ere long I could viewith my messmates in the most hazardous tasks that fell to their lot.
The _Gannet_ first sailed through the Straits of Gibraltar to theMediterranean Sea, for the purpose of keeping an eye on the Algerinerovers, who had again begun, in spite of the sharp lesson taught them byAdmiral Blake, to molest peaceful traders. From the Mediterranean wesailed across the Atlantic to the Indies, to make our headquarters thetown of Port Royal in Jamaica, an island that Penn and Venables hadseized from the Spaniards some five years before.