CHAPTER NINE.
OUR STOWAWAY TUMBLES INTO LUCK.
"A man in the forepeak--eh?" yelled out Captain Gillespie, all hiscomplacency gone in a moment, his voice sounding so loudly that itdeadened the moaning of the wind through the shrouds and the creaking ofthe ship's timbers, whose groans mingled with the heavy thud of thewaves against her bows as she breasted them, and the angry splash of thebaffled billows as they fell back into the bubbling, hissing cauldron ofbroken water through which the noble vessel plunged and rolled, spurningit beneath her keel in her majesty and might. "A man in the forepeak,and dead, is he, bosun? I'll bet I'll soon quicken him into life againwith a rope's-end!"
He muttered these last words as he hastily scrambled down the poopladder and along the weather side of the main-deck towards theforecastle, making his way forward with an activity which might haveshamed a younger man.
Mr Mackay at once tumbled after him, and I followed too, as quickly asI could get along and the motion of the ship would allow me, beingbuffeted backwards and forwards like a shuttlecock between the bulwarksand deck-house in my progress onwards, as well as drenched by the spray,which came hurtling inboards over the main-chains from windward as itwas borne along by the breeze, wetting everything amidships and soakingthe main-sail as if buckets of water were continually poured over it,although the air was quite dry and the sun still shining full upon itsswelling surface.
"Begorra, he's as did as a door-nail, sorr," I heard Tim Rooney sayingon my getting up at last to the others, who were grouped with a numberof the crew round the small hatchway under the forecastle leading downto the forehold below, the cover of which had been slipped off leavingthe dark cavity open. "I ownly filt him jist move once, whin I kickedhim wid me fut unknowns to me, as I wor sayin' about stowin' the cable."
"Dead men don't move," replied the captain sharply, the hands roundgrinning at the boatswain's Irish bull. "Some of you idlers there, godown and fetch this stowaway up and let us see what he's made of."
The boatswain, spurred by Captain Gillespie's rejoinder, was the firstto dive down again into the dark receptacle, where he had previouslybeen searching to find room for stowing the cable, the anchor havingbeen hoisted inboard and the chain unshackled on the ship now getting tosea; and, Tim was quickly followed below by a couple of the other hands,as many as could comfortably squeeze into the narrow space at theircommand.
"On deck, there!" presently called out Tim Rooney from beneath, hisvoice sounding hollow and far off.
"Some av ye bind owver the coamin' av the hatch an' hilp us to raise thepoor divil!"
A dozen eager hands were immediately stretched downwards; and, the nextinstant, between them all they lifted out of the forepeak the limp bodyof a ragged youth, who seemed to be either already dead or dying, not amovement being discernible in the inert, motionless figure as it waslaid down carefully by the men on the deck, looking like a corpse.
Captain Gillespie, however, was not deceived by these appearances.
"Sluice some water over his face," cried he, after leaning down andputting his hand on his chest; "he's only swooned away or shamming, forhe's breathing all right. Look, his shirt is moving up and down now."
"I think he must be pretty far gone with starvation," observed MrMackay, bending over the unconscious lad, too, and scrutinising hispinched features and bony frame. "He could only have stowed himselfdown there when we were loading in the docks, and it is now over threedays since we cleared out and started down the river."
"Humph!" growled Captain Gillespie, "the confounded skulker has onlybrought it on himself, and sarve him right, too."
"Shame!" groaned one of the men, a murmur of reproach running roundamongst the rest, in sympathy with this expression of opinion againstsuch an inhuman speech, making the captain look up and cock his ears andsniff with his long nose, trying to find out who had dared to call himto account. But, of course, he was unable to do so; and, after glaringat those near as if he could have "eaten them without salt," as thesaying goes, he bent his eyes down again on Mr Mackay and theboatswain. These were trying to resuscitate the unfortunate stowaway ina somewhat more humane way than the captain had suggested; for, whilethe mate opened his collar and shirt and lifted his head on his knee,Tim Rooney sprinkled his face smartly with water from the bucket thathad been dipped over the side and filled.
At first, Tim's efforts were unsuccessful, causing Captain Gillespie tosnort with impatience at his delicate mode of treatment; but, the thirdor fourth dash of the cold water at last restored the poor fellow toconsciousness, his eyelids quivering and then opening, while he drew adeep long breath like a sigh.
He didn't know a bit, though, where he was, his eyes staring out fromtheir sockets, which had sunk deep into his head, as if he were lookingthrough us and beyond us to something else--instead of at us closebeside him.
In a moment, however, recollection came back to him and he tried toraise himself up, only to fall back on Mr Mackay's supporting knee;and, then, he called out piteously what had probably been his cry forhours previously as he lay cramped up in the darkness of the forepeak:
"Hey, let Oi out, measter, and Oi'll never do it no more! Oi be clemmedto da-eth, measter, and th' rats and varmint be a-gnawing on me cruel!Let Oi out, measter, Oi be dying here in the dark--let Oi out, forGawd's sake!"
"It is as I told you," said Mr Mackay looking up at the captain; "he isstarving. See, one of you, if the cook's got anything ready in hisgalley."
"Begorra, it wor pay-soup day to-day," cried Tim Rooney getting up toobey the order; "an' Ching Wang bulled it so plentiful wid wather thatthe men toorned oop their noses at it, an' most of it wor lift in thecoppers."
"The very thing for one in this poor chap's condition," replied MrMackay eagerly. "Go and bring a pannikin of it at once."
Captain Gillespie sniffed and snorted more than ever of being baulkedfor the present in his amiable intention of giving the stowaway a bit ofhis mind, and, possibly, something else in addition.
He saw, though, that his unwelcome passenger was too far gone to bespoken to as yet; and so, perforce, he had to delay calling him toaccount for his intrusion, putting the reckoning off until a moreconvenient season.
"Ah, well, Mackay," said he, on Tim Rooney's return presently with apannikin of pea-soup and a large iron spoon, with which he proceeded toladle some into the starving creature's mouth, which was ravenouslyopened, as were his eyes, too, distended with eager famine craving as hesmelt the food--"you see to bringing the beggar round as well as youcan, and I'll talk to him bye and bye."
So saying, Captain Gillespie returned to his former place on the poop,and contented himself for the moment with rating the helmsman forletting the ship yaw on a big wave catching her athwart the bows andmaking her fall off; while the first mate and Tim Rooney continued theirgood Samaritan work in gently plying the poor creature, who had justbeen rescued from death's door, with spoonful after spoonful of thetepid soup. Presently a little colour came into his face and he wasable to speak, recovering his consciousness completely as soon as thenourishment affected his system and gave him strength.
In a little time, he also was able to raise himself up and stand withoutassistance; and, then, Mr Mackay asked him who he was and why he cameon board our ship without leave or license.
He said that he was a country bricklayer, Joe Fergusson by name; andthat, not being able to get work in London, whither he had tramped allthe way from Lancashire, he had determined to go to Australia, hearingthere was a great demand for labour out there. By dint of inquiries hehad at length managed to reach the docks, hiding himself away in theforepeak of the Silver Queen, she being the first ship he was able toget on board unperceived, and the hatchway being conveniently open as ifon purpose for his accommodation.
"But, we're not going to Australia," observed Mr Mackay, who had onlycontrived to get all this from the enterprising bricklayer by the aid ofa series of questions and a severe cross-examination. "This ship isbound fo
r China."
"It don't matter, measter," replied Mr Joe Fergusson with the mostcharming nonchalance. "Australy or Chiney's all the same to Oi, so longas un can git wa-ark to dew. Aught's better nor clemming in Lonnon!"
"You've got no right aboard here, though," said Mr Mackay, who couldnot help smiling at the easy way in which the whilom dying man now tookthings. "Who's going to pay your passage-money? The captain's in afine state, I can tell you, about it, and I don't know what he won't doto you. He might order you to be pitched overboard into the sea,perhaps."
The other scratched his head reflectively, just as Tim Rooney did whenin a quandary, looking round at the men behind Mr Mackay, who weregrinning at his blank dismay and the perturbed and puzzled expression onhis raw yokel face.
"Oi be willin' to wa-ark, measter," he answered at length, thinking thatif they were all grinning, they were not likely to do him much harm."Oi'll wa-ark, measter, loike a good un, so long as you gie Oi grub andlet Oi be."
"Work! What can you, a bricklayer according to your own statement, doaboard ship? We've got no bricks to lay here."
"Mab'be, measter, you moight try un, though," pleaded the poor fellow,scratching his head again; and then adding, as if a brilliant thoughtall at once occurred to him from the operation, "Oi be used toscaffoldin' and can cloimb loike sailor cheaps."
"Ah, you must speak to the captain about that," replied Mr Mackaydrily, turning aft and giving some whispered instructions to Tim Rooneyto let the stowaway have some more food later on and give him a shake-down in the forecastle for the night, so that he might be in betterfettle for his audience with Captain Gillespie on the morrow. "You canstop here with the men till the morning, and then you will know whatwill be done in the matter."
"Well," cried Captain Gillespie as soon as Mr Mackay stepped up thepoop ladder, "how's that rascal getting on?"
"I think he'll come round now, sir," said the first mate, thinking itbest not to mention how quickly his patient had recovered, so that hemight have a few hours' reprieve before encountering the captain'swrath. "I've told the boatswain to give him a bunk in the fo'c's'le forthe night, and that you'll talk to him in the morning."
"Oh, aye, I'll talk to him like a Dutch uncle," retorted the captain,sniffing away at a fine rate, as if Mr Mackay was as much in fault asthe unfortunate cause of his ire. "You know I never encourage stowawayson board my ship, sir; and when I say a thing I mean a thing."
"Yes, sir; certainly, sir," said Mr Mackay soothingly, taking no noticeof his manner to him and judiciously turning the conversation. "Do youthink, though, sir, we can carry those topgallants much longer? Thewind seems to have freshened again after sunset, the same as it did lastnight."
"Carry-on? Aye, of course we can. The old barquey could almost standthe royals as well, with this breeze well abeam," replied "Old Jock,"who never agreed with anyone right out if he could possibly help,especially now when he was in a bit of temper about the stowaway; but,the next instant, like the thorough seaman he was, seeing the wisdom ofthe first mate's advice, he qualified what he had previously said. "Ifit freshens more, though, between this and eight bells, you can take inthe topgallants if you like, and a reef in the topsails as well. Itwill save bother, perhaps, bye and bye, as the night will be a darkishone and the weather is not too trustworthy."
Captain Gillespie then went down the companion into the cuddy to havehis tea; and Mr Mackay, thinking I ought to be hungry after all mysacrifices to Neptune, advised me to go down below and get some too.
I was hungry, but I did not care about tea, the flavour of the pea-soupthe stowaway had been plied with having roused my appetite; so,receiving Mr Mackay's permission, instead of seeking out the stewardPedro, I paid a visit to Ching Wang in his galley forward.
"Hi, lilly pijjin," cried this worthy, receiving me far more pleasantlythan I'm sure the Portuguese would have done, for as I passed under thebreak of the poop I heard the latter clattering his tins about in thepantry, as if he were in a rage at something. "What you wanchee--hey?"
I soon explained my wants; and, without the slightest demur, he ladledout a basinful of soup for me out of one of the coppers gently stewingover the galley fire, which looked quite bright and nice as the eveningwas chilly. The good-natured Chinaman also gave me a couple of hardship's biscuits which he took out of a drawer in the locker above thefireplace, where they were kept dry.
"Hi, you eatee um chop chop," said he, as he handed me the basin and thebiscuits and made me sit down on a sort of settle in the galley oppositethe warm fire--"makee tummee tummee all right."
The effects of this food were as wonderful in my instance as in that ofthe poor starved bricklayer shortly before; for, when I had eaten thelast biscuit crumb and drained the final drop of pea-soup from thebasin, I felt a new man, or rather boy--Allan Graham himself, and notthe wretched feeble nonentity I had been previously.
Of course, I thanked Ching Wang for his kindness as I rose up from thesettle to go away, on the starboard watch, who were just relieved fromtheir duty on deck, coming for their tea; but the Chinee only shook hishead with a broad smile on his yellow face, as if deprecating any returnfor his kind offices.
"You goodee pijjin and chin chin when you comee," he only said, "andwhen you wanchee chow-chow, you comee Ching Wang and him gettee you chopchop!"
Then, I stopped in front of the forecastle, as Tim Rooney giving me acheery hail, and saw to my wonder Joe Fergusson looking all hale andhearty and jolly amongst the men, without the least trace of havingbeen, apparently, at his last gasp but an hour or so before.
He was half lying down, half sitting on the edge of one of the bunks,nursing the big stray tortoise-shell tom-cat which had shared hislodgings in the forepeak, and he had mistaken it for a rat as it creptup and down the chain-pipe to see what it could pick up in the cook'sgalley at meal-times, which it seemed to know by some peculiar instinctof its own; and although thus partially partial to Ching Wang's society,the cat now appeared to have taken even a greater fancy to his bed-fellow in his hiding-place below than it had done to the cook, lookingupon the stowaway evidently as a fellow-comrade, who was unfortunatelyin similar circumstances to himself.
Joe Fergusson not only looked all right, but he likewise was in the bestof spirits, possibly from the tot of rum Tim Rooney had given him afterhis soup, to "pull him together," as the boatswain said; for, ere I leftthe precincts of the forecastle he volunteered to sing a song, and as Imade my way aft I heard the beginning of some plaintive ditty concerninga "may-i-den of Manches-teer," followed by a rousing chorus from thecrew, which had little or nothing to do with the main burden of theballad, the men's refrain being only a "Yo, heave ho, it's time for usto go!"
A hint which I took.
The wind did not freshen quite so soon as either Mr Mackay or thecaptain expected; but it continued to blow pretty steadily from thenorth-west with considerable force, the ship bending over to it as itcaught her abaft the beam, and bowling along before it over the billowyocean like a prancing courser galloping over a race-course, tossing herbows up in the air one moment and plunging them down the next, andspinning along at a rare rate through the crested foam.
As it got later, though, the gale increased; and shortly after "twobells in the first watch," nine o'clock that is in landsman's time,Captain Gillespie, who was on deck again, gave the order to shortensail.
"Stand by your topgallant halliards!" cried Mr Mackay, giving thenecessary instructions for the captain's order to be carried intoeffect, following this command up immediately by a second--"Let go!"
Then, the clewlines and buntlines were manned, and in a trice the threetopgallants were hanging in festooned folds from the upper yards, Idoing my first bit of service at sea by laying hold of the ropes thattriced up the mizzen-topgallant-sail, and hauling with the others, MrMackay giving me a cheery "Well done, my lad," as I did so.
Tom Jerrold, who now appeared on the poop, and whom I had fought shy ofbefore, thinking he had behaved very unki
ndly to me in the morning, wasone of the first to spring into the mizzen-shrouds and climb up theratlines on the order being given to furl the sail, getting out on themanrope and to the weather earing at the end of the yard before eitherof the three hands who also went up.
Seeing him go up the rigging, I was on the point of following him; butMr Mackay, whose previous encouragement, indeed, had spurred me on,stopped me.
"No, my boy," said he kindly, "you must not go aloft yet, for you mightfall overboard. Besides, you would not be of the slightest use on theyard even if you didn't tumble. Wait till you've got your sea-legs andknow the ropes."
I had therefore to wait and watch Tom Jerrold swinging away up there andbundling the sail together, the gaskets being presently passed round itand the mizzen-topgallant made snug. When Tom and the others came down,he grinned at me so cordially that I made friends with him again; but Iwas longing all the time for the blissful moment when I too could goaloft like him.
Previously to this, I had given Billy, the ship's boy, a shilling toswab out our cabin and make it all right, so that neither Tom nor Weekscould grumble at the state it was in; and Sam Weeks, at all events,seemed satisfied, for he turned into his bunk as soon as Billy had donecleaning up, having begged Tom Jerrold to take his place for once withthe starboard men, who had the first watch this evening instead of the"middle watch," as on the previous night. This shifting of the watches,I may mention here, gives all hands in turn an opportunity of being ondeck at every hour of the night and day, without being monotonouslybound down to any fixed time to be on duty throughout the voyage, aswould otherwise have been the case.
This alternation of the four hours of deck duty is effected by the dog-watches in the afternoon, which being of only two hours duration each,from four o'clock till six the first, and the second from six to eighto'clock, change the whole order of the others; as, for instance, theport watch, which has the deck for the first dog-watch to-night, say,will come on again for the first night watch from eight o'clock tilltwelve, and the morning watch from four o'clock until eight, thestarboard watch, which goes on duty for the second dog-watch, taking themiddle watch, from midnight till four o'clock, and then going below tosleep, while the port watch takes the morning one. The arrangement forthe following night is exactly the reverse of this, the starbowlinesstarting with, the first dog-watch and taking the first and the eveningwatch; while the port watch has only the second dog-watch and the middleone, from midnight till morning.
I thought I had better explain this, as it was very strange at first tome, and I could not get out of the habit of believing sometimes that Iought to be on deck when it was really my turn to have my "watch in"below.
This evening, as I felt all right and hearty after my pea-soup and had agood sleep in the afternoon, I remained on deck, although the portwatch, to which I belonged, was not on duty, Mr Mackay, who had onlystayed on the poop to see the topgallants taken in, having at once gonebelow on this operation being satisfactorily performed.
I was glad I stopped, though; for, presently, Captain Gillespie,ignoring Mr Saunders the second mate, who was now supposed to be incharge of the deck, sang out in his voice of thunder, his nose no doubtshaking terribly the while, albeit I couldn't see it, the evening beingtoo dark and lowering for me even to distinguish plainly that longproboscis of his:
"Hands reef topsails!"
The men, naturally, were even more spry than usual from the fact of "OldJock" having given the order; so, they were at their posts before thecaptain could get at his next command.
"Stand by your topsail halliards--let go!"
The yards tumbled down on the caps in an instant as the last word cameroaring from Captain Gillespie's lips; and at almost the same momentparties of the men raced up the fore and main and mizzen-shrouds, eachlot anxious to have their sail reefed and rehoisted the first.
The foretop men, however, this time, bore away the palm over thoseattending to the main-topsail; while those on the cro'jack-yard werecompletely out of the running with only four hands against the fourteenin the other top--although Tom Jerrold was pretty quick again, and ifthose helping him had been but equally sharp they might, in spite ofbeing short-handed, have achieved the victory.
Urged on by Tim Rooney, though, the men forward were too smart for thoseaft, and had handed their topsail and were hoisting away at thehalliards again before those reefing the main-topsail were all in fromtheir yard. The last man, indeed, was just stepping from the yard intothe rigging again, when an accident happened that nearly cost him hislife, although fortunately he escaped with only a fall and a fright.
In order to render the work of reefing easier for the hands, the captainhad directed the men at the wheel by a quick motion which theyunderstood to "luff her up" a bit, so as to flatten the sails; and now,on the folds of the main-topsail ballooning out before being hoistedagain as it caught the wind, the sail flapped back and jerked theunfortunate fellow off the yard, his hands clutching vainly at the emptyair.
We could see it all from the poop, although the night was darkish,because the whiteness of the sails made everything stand out in reliefagainst their snowy background; and, as he fell, with a shriek thatseemed to go through my heart, I held my breath in agonised suspense,expecting the next moment to hear the dull thud of his mangled body onthe deck below.
But, in place of this, a second later, a wild hurrah burst from the menat the halliards and from those coming down the rigging, who hadremained spellbound, their descending footsteps arrested in the ratlinesin awful expectancy and horror. It was a cheer of relief on theiranxious fears being dispelled.
I never heard such a hearty shout in my life before, coming, as it did,as if all the men had but one throat!
I seem to hear it now.
"Hurrah!"
It rang through the ship; and we on the poop soon saw the reason for thetriumphant cry and shared the common feeling of joy.
The main-sail had jibed and then bellied out again in the same way asthe topsail above it had done; and when the man fell, a kind Providencewatching over him caused it to catch him in its folds, and then gentlydrop him into the long-boat above the deck-house below, right in themidst of the captain's pigs there stowed--thus breaking his fall, sothat he absolutely escaped unhurt, with the exception of a slightshaking and of course a biggish fright at falling.
"Who is the man?" sang out Captain Gillespie as soon as some of thehands had clambered up on top of the deck-house and released theircomrade from the companionship of the pigs, who were grunting andsquealing at his unexpected descent in their midst. "Who is that man?"
"Joe Fergusson," cried out one of the men. "It's Joe Fergusson, sir."
Captain Gillespie was bothered, thinking he could not hear aright.
"Joe Fergusson?" he called back. "I don't know any man of that name, oranything like it, who signed articles with me, and is entered on theship's books. Pass the word forrud for the bosun--where is he?"
"Here, sorr," cried out Tim Rooney, who of course was close at hand,having bounded to the scene of action the moment he heard the man's wildweird shriek as he fell, arriving just in time to see his wonderfulescape. "Here I am, sorr."
"Who is the man that fell?"
"Our new hand, sorr."
"New hand?" repeated Captain Gillespie after him, as perplexed as ever."What new hand?"
"Joe Fergusson, sorr. Himsilf and no ither, sure, sorr."
"What the dickens do ye mean, man?" said the captain, angry at themystification. "I don't know of any Joe Fergusson or any new hands savethose I brought on board myself at Gravesend; and there was no one ofthat name amongst 'em, I'm certain."
"Aye, aye, thrue for ye, cap'en," answered Tim, and although, of course,I couldn't see him, I'm sure he must have winked when he spoke, therewas a tone of such rich jocularity in his voice; "but, sure, sor this isthe chap as brought himsilf aboard. He's the stowaway, sorr; JoeFergusson, by the same token!"
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