CHAPTER SIX.
THE STARLING.
Rubbing my eyes and then opening them to the full, wide awake at last, Iat once recollected where I was, and who was speaking to me as he shookme.
It was Ching Wang, the Chinese cook, smiling all over his round yellowface, and holding out a tin pannikin with something steaming in it, thatsent forth a fragrant smell which made my mouth water.
"Hi me wakee can do," he said in his broken pigeon English, althoughfrom having been several voyages he spoke more intelligibly than themajority of his countrymen, "Mass' Looney me axee lookee after lillypijjin, and so me fetchee piecee coffee number one chop. You wanchee--hey?"
"Thank you," I cried gratefully, drinking the nice hot coffee, whichseemed delicious though there was no milk in it. Then, forgetting I wasin the top bunk, I sprang off the mattress on which I had been lying,falling further than I thought, it being quite six feet to the deckbelow; and, knocking down the good-natured Chinaman, with whom I tumbledover amongst the things scattered about the floor and landed finallyoutside the door of the deck-house in a heap, rolled up with him in theblanket I had clutched as I fell!
Fortunately, however, neither of us was injured by this littlescrimmage, which somehow or other seemed to smooth over the awkwardnessof our making acquaintance, both of us grinning over the affair as apiece of good fun.
"Chin-chin, lilly pijjin," said my new friend, as he picked himself upfrom the deck and made his way back to his galley with the emptypannikin, whose contents I was glad to have swallowed before jumping outof the bunk, or else it would have been spilt in another fashion. "Whenyou wanchee chow-chow you comee Ching Wang and he givee you first chop."
"Thank you," I replied again, not knowing then what he meant by his term"chow-chow," although I fancied he intended something kind, and probablyof an edible nature, as he was the cook. But all thoughts of him andhis intentions were quickly banished from my mind the moment I lookedaround me, and saw and heard all the bustle going on in the ship; for,men were racing here and there, and ropes were being thrown down withheavy bangs, the captain and Mr Mackay both on the poop were yellingout queer orders that I couldn't understand, and Mr Saunders and theboatswain on the forecastle were also shouting back equally strangeanswers, while, to add to the effect, blocks were creaking and canvasflapping aloft, and groups of sailors everywhere were hauling andpulling as if their lives depended on every tug they gave.
It was broad daylight and more; the sun having, unlike me, been up longsince, it being after eight o'clock and a bright beautiful morning, withevery prospect of fine weather before us for the run down the Channel.
We had come through the Bullock Channel, emerging from the estuary ofthe Thames ahead of the North Foreland, which proudly raised its headaway on our starboard bow, the sun shining on its bare scarp and pickingout every detail with photographic distinctness. Further off in thedistance, on our port quarter, lay the French coast hazily outlinedagainst the clear blue sky, from which the early mists of dawn that hadat first hung over the water had withdrawn their veil, the fresh nor'-easterly breeze sweeping them away seaward with the last of the ebb.The tide was just on the turn, and the dead low water showed up thesandbanks at the river's mouth.
The little tug Arrow was right ahead; but she had eased her paddles andstopped towing us, preparatory to casting off her hawser and leaving theSilver Queen to her own devices. The good ship on her part seemednothing loth to this; for, those on board were bustling about as fast asthey could to make sail, so that they might actually start on theirvoyage--all the preliminary work of towing down the river by the aid ofthe tug being only so much child's play, so to speak, having nothing todo with the proper business of the gallant vessel.
And here I suddenly became confronted with one of the discomforts ofboard-ship life, which contrasted vividly with the conveniences to whichI had been accustomed at home ever since childhood.
Before presenting myself amongst the others I naturally thought ofdressing, or rather, as I had gone to sleep in my clothes, of performingsome sort of toilet and making myself as tidy as I could; but, lo andbehold, when I looked round the cabin of the deck-house, nothing in theshape of a washhand-stand was to be seen, while my sea-chest beingunderneath a lot of traps, I was unable to open the lid of it and makeuse of the little basin within, as I wished to do if only to "christenit."
I was completely nonplussed at first; but, a second glance showing meTom Jerrold, one of my berthmates who had turned out before me, washinghis face and hands in a bucket of sea-water in the scuppers, I followedsuit, drying myself with a very dirty and ragged towel which he lent mein a friendly way, albeit I felt inclined to turn up my nose at it.
"You thought, I suppose," observed Jerrold with a grin, "that you'd havea nice bath-room and a shampooing establishment for your accommodation--eh?"
"No, I didn't," said I, smiling too, and quite cheerful under thecircumstances, having determined to act on my father's advice, which TimRooney had subsequently confirmed, of never taking umbrage at any jokeor chaff from my shipmates, but to face all my disagreeables like a man;"I think, though, we might make some better arrangement than this. I'vegot a little washhand-basin fixed up inside my chest under there, only Ican't get at it."
"So have I in mine, old fellow," he rejoined familiarly; "and it wasonly sheer laziness that prevented me rigging it up. The fact is, asyou'll soon find out, being at sea gets one into terribly slovenlyhabits, sailors generally making a shift of the first thing that comesto hand."
"I see," said I meditatively; looking no doubt awfully wise and solemn,for he laughed in a jolly sort of way.
"I tell you what, Graham," he remarked affably as he proceeded toplaster his hair down on either side with the moistened palm of his handin lieu of a brush. "You're not half a bad sort of chap, though Weeksthought you too much of a stuck-up fine gentleman for us; and, d'youknow, I'll back you up if you like to keep our quarters in the deck-house here tidy, and set a better example for imitation than MasterWeeks, or Matthews--though the latter has left us now, by the way, for acabin in the saloon, the skipper having promoted him to third mate, as Iheard him say just now. Do you agree, eh, to our making order out ofchaos?"
"All right! I'll try if you'll help me," I answered, reciprocating hisfriendly advances, as he seemed a nice fellow--much nicer, I thought,than that little snob Sam Weeks, with his vegetable-marrow sort of face,my original dislike to the latter being far from lessened by theobservation Jerrold told me he had made about me! "I like things to beneat and tidy; and as my father used to say, `cleanliness is next togodliness.'"
"I'm afraid, then," chuckled Tom Jerrold, "we poor sailors are in a badway; for, although we live on the water and have the ocean at command, Idon't believe there's a single foremast hand that washes himself oftenerthan once a week, at least while he's at sea, from year's end to year'send."
"Oh!" I exclaimed, making him laugh again at my expression of horror.
"Aye, it is so; I'm telling the truth, as you'll find if you ask theboatswain, whom I see you've got chummy with already. But, by Jove,they're just going to set the tops'les; and we'll have the skipper orold Sandy Saunders after us with a rope's-end if we stop jawing here anylonger."
From the way he spoke you would think we had been talking for a verylong time; but, really, our conversation had only lasted a couple ofminutes or so at the outside, while I was making myself tidy, using alittle pocket-comb my mother had given me just before I left home, toarrange my hair, instead of imitating Jerrold with his palm brush. Ialso utilised the bucket of sea-water as an improvised looking-glass soas to get the parting of my hair straight and fix my collar.
The ropes I had heard thrown about the decks were the halliards andclewlines, buntlines, and other gear belonging to the topsails being letgo, the gaskets having been thrown off before I was awake; and now at aquick word of command from Mr Mackay--"Sheet home!"--the sails on thefore and main-topsail yards were hauled out to the ends of t
he clews andset, the canvas being thus extended to its full stretch.
Then followed the next order.
"Man the topsail halliards!"
Thereupon the yards were swung up and the sails expanded to the breeze;and then, the outer jib being hoisted at the same time and the lee-braces hauled in, the man at the wheel putting the helm up the while,the ship payed off on the port tack, making over towards the Frenchcoast so as to take advantage of the tide running down Channel on thatside. At the same time, the towing-hawser which had up to now stillattached us to the tug, was dropped over the bows as we got under weigh.
The Silver Queen seemed to rejoice in her freedom, tossing her bowspritin the air as she cast off from the tug; and then, heeling over toleeward as she felt the full force of the breeze on her quarter, shegave a plunge downwards, ploughing up the water, now beginning to becrested with little choppy waves as the wind met the current, andsending it sparkling and foaming past her bulwarks, and away behind herin a long creamy wake, that stretched out like a fan astern till ittouched Margate sands in the distance.
I now went up on the poop, avoiding the weather side, which Tim Rooneyhad told me the previous evening was always sacred to the captain orcommanding officer on duty; for I noticed that the thin pilot in themonkey-jacket, who had just mounted the companion stairs from the cuddyafter having his late breakfast, was walking up and down there withCaptain Gillespie, the latter smiling and rubbing his hands together,evidently in good humour at our making such a fine start.
"Good morning!" said Mr Mackay, who was standing at the head of the leepoop ladder, accosting me as I reached the top. "I hope you had asound, healthy sleep, my boy?"
"Oh yes, thank you, sir," I replied. "I'm ashamed of being so late wheneverybody else has been so long astir. Isn't there something I can do,sir?"
"No, my boy, not at present," cried he, laughing at my eagerness to beuseful, which arose from my seeing Jerrold nimbly mounting up the after-shrouds with Matthews and a couple of other hands to loosen the mizzen-topsail. "You haven't got your sea-legs yet, nor learnt your way aboutthe ship; and so you would be more a hindrance than a help on a yard upaloft."
"But I may go up by and by?" I asked, a little disappointed at notbeing allowed to climb with the others, they looked so jolly swingingabout as if they enjoyed it; with Tom Jerrold nodding and grinning at meover the yard. "Sha'n't I, sir?"
"Aye, by and by, when there's no fear of your tumbling overboard,youngster," he answered good-naturedly. "You must be content withlooking on for a while and picking up information. Use your eyes andears, my lad; and then we'll see you shortly reefing a royal in a gale!You needn't be afraid of our not making you work when the time comes."
"I'll be very glad, sir," I said. "I do not like being idle when othersare busy."
"A very good sentiment that, my boy; and I only hope you'll stick toit," he replied earnestly. "That desire to be doing something showsthat you're no skulker, but have the makings of a sailor in you, as Itold the captain last night; so, you see, you mustn't go back on thecharacter I've given you."
"I won't, sir, if I can help it," said I, with my heart in my words;and, from Mr Mackay's look I'm sure he believed me, but just at thatmoment he crossed over to the other side of the poop, Captain Gillespiecalling him and telling him what he wanted before he could take a stepto reach him.
"We'd better get some more sail on her," said the captain, still rubbinghis hand as if rolling pills between them; "the pilot thinks so, and sodo I."
"All right, sir!" replied Mr Mackay; and going to the front by therail, he shouted out forwards:
"Hands make sail!"
"Aye, aye, sorr," I heard the boatswain answer in his rich Irish brogue,supplemented by his hail to the crew of: "Tumble up there, ye spalpeens!Show a leg now, smart!"
"Lay out aloft there and loose the fore and main topgallants, my men!"cried Mr Mackay, as soon as he saw the sailors out on the deck. "And,some of you, come aft here to set the spanker!"
Up the ratlines of the rigging clambered the men, racing against eachother to see who would be up first, while others below cast off theropes holding up the bunt and leech of the sail, as soon as the smartfellows had unloosed the gaskets; and then, the folds of the sails beingdropped, were sheeted home with a "one, two, three, and a yo heave ho!"by those on deck, before the top men were half-way down the shrouds.
Matthews and Jerrold alone managed the mizzen topgallant-sail, afterwhich the spanker was set, making the ship drive on all the fasterthrough the water; though, even then, Captain Gillespie was not contentyet.
"We must have the main-sail and forecourse on her," he said a fewminutes later to Mr Mackay. "It would be a sin to lose this wind."
"All right, sir!" replied the other; and the order being at once given,these lower sails were soon set, adding considerably to our average ofcanvas, the vessel now forging ahead at a good eight knots or more; andwe passed Deal, on our starboard hand, some couple of hours or so fromthe time of our leaving the river.
"I call this going--eh?" cried Captain Gillespie to the pilot, while hecocked his eye up aloft as if he seriously thought of setting theroyals. "I said I'd get out of the Straits before the afternoon; and,you know, when I say a thing I always mean a thing!"
"Aye, aye," returned the other, motioning to the helmsman to keep heroff a bit as the ship luffed up; "but we'll soon have to come about, forwe'll be getting a little too near that shoal to the eastwards on thistack."
"Very good," said the captain; "whenever you please."
"I think we'll wait till we pass the South Sands light," replied thepilot. "Then we can round the Foreland handsomely on the starboard tackwith the wind well abaft our beam."
"All right!" was Captain Gillespie's laconic response, rubbing his handsgleefully together again. "Carry-on."
Noticing Tom Jerrold just then on the main-deck, I went down from offthe poop and joined him.
"Have you had any breakfast?" he asked when I got up to him, patting hisstomach significantly. "I was just thinking of getting mine as I feelvery empty here, for all the rest have had theirs."
"No, I haven't had anything but some coffee the cook brought me a longwhile ago, and I feel hungry too," I replied. "Where do we get ourmeals?"
"In the cuddy, after the captain and mates have done grubbing," he said."Come along with me and we'll rouse up that Portugee steward."
"What! Pedro?"
"Yes; you've made his acquaintance already, I see. Did you noticeanything particular about him?"
"Only his temper," I said. "Dear me, hasn't he got an awful one!"
"Bless you he only puts half of it on to try and frighten you if you'rea new hand," replied Jerrold as he jauntily walked into the cuddy withthe air of a commodore. "Only give him a little backsheesh and he'll doanything for you."
"Backsheesh! What is that?"
"Palm oil--tip him. Do you twig?" whispered Tom; "but, mum's the word,here we are in the lion's den!"
To my surprise, however, the whilom cranky steward made no difficultyabout supplying our wants; and I strongly suspect that my fellowapprentice must have carried out his advice anent tipping Pedro thatvery morning, he was so extremely civil. He gave us some cold fried hamand eggs, the remains no doubt of Captain Gillespie's breakfast, withthe addition of some coffee which he heated up for us especially, andwhich I enjoyed all the more from its having some milk in it--it was thevery last milk that I tasted until I landed in England again, alas!
After making a hearty meal, I suggested to Tom that if he'd nothing todo we'd better go to work and make our cabin in the deck-house more cosyand habitable; and, on his agreeing, we left the cuddy, I taking carebefore going out to slip five shillings into the steward's ready palm asan earnest of my future intentions towards him should he treat me well.
"Well, you're in luck's way now, old fellow," said Jerrold when I toldhim of this outside the passage, Pedro retiring to his pantry to secretemy tip along with others
he had probably already received. "Only a dayon board, and friends with the first mate, boatswain, cook, and steward;and, last, though by no means least, your humble servant myself, I beingthe most important personage of all."
"Are you really such a very important personage?" I rejoined, laughingat his affected air--"as big a man as the captain?"
"Aye, for after another voyage I'll be made third mate too, likeMatthews, and then second, and then first; and after that a captain likeour old friend `sayings and meanings' here, only a regular tip-topper,unlike him."
"Aren't you anticipating matters a bit, like the Barber's Fifth Brotherin the Arabian Nights," said I--"counting your chickens before they'rehatched, as my father says?"
"Your father must be a wonderful man," he retorted; but he grinned sofunnily that I really couldn't be angry, though I coloured up at hisremark; seeing which, to change the subject, he added, "Come and let usrouse out the deck-house and make things comfortable there forourselves."
This was easier said than done; for in the first place Weeks, who onlyseemed to think of eating and sleeping and nothing else, was having aquiet "caulk," as sailors call it, cuddled up in the bunk appropriatedby Jerrold as being the roomiest, with all our blankets wrapped roundhim, although the day was quite warm and spring-like for February.
"Hullo!" cried Jerrold at the sight of the slumbering lamb, seizing holdof the blankets. "Out you go, my hearty; and confound your cheek fortaking possession of my crib!"
With these words, giving a good tug, Weeks was rolled out on the deck,tumbling on his head. This angered him greatly, and he got up as red asa turkey cock, with the freckles on his face coming out in strongrelief.
Seeing that Tom Jerrold was the culprit, however, he soon quieted down,being an arrant sneak and afraid of him.
"What did you do that for?" he whined. "I was only having a nap."
"You're always napping," retorted Tom; "and I should like to know whatthe dickens you mean by going snoozing in my bunk? I've half a mind topunch your head. The next time I catch you at it I'll keelhaul you,Master Sammy, by Jupiter!"
Jerrold kept on grumbling away, pretending to be very angry; and hefrightened Weeks so that he forgot the ugly knock he had received on hisown head, and apologised abjectly for the offence he had committed. Tomthen allowed his assumed indignation to pass away, and forgave him onthe condition that he took away all the spare crockery ware, which thesteward had stowed in the top bunk of the deck-house, into the cuddy,giving it to the Portuguese with his, Tom's, compliments.
Weeks thereupon proceeded to execute this mission, Jerrold and Iawaiting the result with much anticipated enjoyment, Tom saying to meconfidentially as he started for the cuddy, "Won't Pedro carry-on athim! I wouldn't be in the young fool's shoes for something."
The denouement justified our expectations; for, no sooner had Weeksentered the passage way than he came flying out again looking awfullyscared, a tremendous crash following as if all the crockery ware waspitched after him, bang! Next, we heard Pedro swearing away in hisnative tongue, and kicking his preserved meat tins about his pantry atsuch a rate that Captain Gillespie sang out on the poop above, and sentMatthews down the companion to find out what he was making all the rowabout. This finally quieted the steward down, but subdued mutteringscame to our ears from the cuddy for long afterwards, Pedro never havingbeen so roused up before, not even when Tim Rooney tackled him on theprevious day.
Weeks got very angry on our laughing at him when he returned crestfallento the deck-house, and he went off forwards in high dudgeon; but thisdid not make any difference to us, we being rather pleased at gettingrid of his company--at least I was, for one. So we went on arrangingthe chests and things in the little cabin until we ultimately made itquite ship-shape and comfortable. As Jerrold had proposed, he had hischest on one side of the doorway and mine and Weeks's were now stowedalongside our bunks, just sufficient space and no more being left for usto open them without having to shift them, and also to get in and out ofthe cabin.
"Be jabers ye've made a tidy job av it, lads," said the boatswain,coming up as we finished, and surveying approvingly our arrangements."I couldn't have done it no betther mesilf! Ye can well-nigh swing acat round, which it would a poozled ye to a-done afore, faix. An' sure,Misther Gray-ham, does ye loike bayin' at say yit?"
"Of course I do," I answered. "Why shouldn't I?"
"Begorra, ye're a caution!" he ejaculated. "An', did that haythin,Ching Wang, wake ye up this mornin' wid some coffee, as he promised me.I wor too busy to say you or ax you afore?"
"Yes," I replied; "and many thanks for your kind thoughtfulness."
"Stow that flummery," he cried; and to prevent my thanking him he beganto tell Jerrold and me one of his funny yarns about a pig which hisgrandmother had, but unfortunately the story was nipped in the bud by aroar from the captain on the poop.
"Hands 'bout ship!"
In a second the boatswain was away piping on the forecastle, and ropescast off and sails flapping again.
"Helms a-lee!" was the next order from the captain, followed by a secondwhich grew familiar enough to me in time. "Raise tacks and sheets!" andthe foretack and main-sheet were cast off with the weather main-bracehauled taut.
Then came the final command, "Main-sail haul!" and the Silver Queen cameup to the wind slowly. The foretack being then boarded and the main-sheet hauled aft, she heeled over on the starboard tack with the windwell on her starboard beam, heading towards the South Foreland, whichshe rounded soon after.
Off Dungeness, which we reached about three in the afternoon, or "sixbells," exactly twenty-four hours from the time of our leaving thedocks, we hove-to, backing our main-topsail and hoisting a whiff at thepeak as a signal that we wanted a boat from the shore to disembark ourpilot.
A dandy-rigged little cutter soon came dancing out to us; when the thinman in the monkey-jacket took his farewell of Captain Gillespie and wenton board to be landed, the Silver Queen filling again and shaping acourse west by south for Beachy Head, and so on down channel, free nowof the last link that bound her to old England.
The afternoon, however, was not destined to pass without anotherincident.
It was getting on for sunset; and, steering more to the west well outfrom the land so as to avoid the Royal Sovereign shoal, we must havebeen just abreast of Hastings, although we could not see it, the weatherthickening at the time, when suddenly a strange bird settled on therigging utterly exhausted. It had evidently been blown out to sea andlost its reckoning.
"Here's a Mother Carey's chicken come aboard!" cried Sam Weeks, makingfor the poor tired thing to catch it. "I'll have it."
"Don't hurt it, it's a starling," I said. "Can't you see its nice shinyblack-and-green plumage, and its yellow bill like a blackbird? Leavethe poor little thing alone, it's tired to death."
"A starling! your grandmother!" he retorted, nettled at my speaking, andbearing me a grudge still for what had recently occurred in the deck-house. "A fine lot you know about birds, no doubt! I tell you I'llcatch it, and kill it too, if I like."
So saying, he made another grab at the little creature, which, justfluttering off the rigging in time, managed for the moment to escape himand perched on the backstay, when the cruel lad hove a marlin-spike atit. He again missed the bird, however, and it then flew straight intothe bosom of my jacket as I stood in front of it, whistling to entice itin that chirpy kissing way in which you hear starlings call to eachother, having learnt the way to do so from a boy at Westham.
Weeks was furious at my succeeding in the capture of the poor bird whenhe had failed; although he would not understand that I had only coaxedit to protect it from his violence. Poor little thing. I could feelits little heart palpitating against mine as it rested safe within thebreast of my jacket, nestling close to my flannel shirt!
"Why, you've caught it yourself after all, you mean sneak!" he cried;and thinking he was more of a match for me than he was for Tom Jerrold,and could bully me ea
sily, he made a dash at my jacket collar to tear itopen, exclaiming at the same time, "I will have it, I tell you. There!"
He made a wrong calculation, however, for, holding my right arm acrossmy chest so as to keep my jacket closed and protect the poor bird thathad sought my succour, I threw out my left hand; and so, as he rushedtowards me, my outstretched fist caught him clean between the eyes,tumbling him backwards, as if he had been shot, on to the deck, where herolled over into a lot of water that had accumulated in the scuppers toleeward--the pool in the scuppers washing forwards and then aft as theship rose and fell and heeled over to port on the wind freshening withthe approach of night.
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