CHAPTER ELEVEN.
"ONE PIECEE COCK-FIGHTEE."
The ship had nearly all her canvas spread, so as to take advantage ofthe first puff of air which came to waft us beyond the Doldrums towardsthe region of the south-east trades, then beginning to blow just belowthe calm belt; consequently, it took all hands some time to clew up andfurl all the light upper sails, and squall after squall burst over usere we could reduce the ship to her proper fighting trim of reefedtopsails and courses, our outer jib getting torn to shreds before itcould be handed.
"Begorra, it's a buster an' no mishtake!" exclaimed Tim Rooney comingoff the forecastle as soon as he had seen the other head sails attendedto, and setting me free from the lashings with which his whilom tritonshad bound my hands and legs. "Sp'ilin' all av our fun, too, MistherGray-ham, jist whin I wor goin' to shave ye!"
I did not regret this, though, I'm sure. Still, I did not stop toanswer him, being in too great a hurry to join Tom Jerrold and theothers aft in taking in the mizzen-royal and topgallant--my fellowapprentices having had time already to get aloft while I was rolling onthe deck forward like a trussed fowl!
"Take it aisy, me darlint," shouted Tim after me as I rushed up the poopladder and swung myself into the shrouds; but, I was half-way up theratlines before he could get out the end of his exordium, "Aisy doesit!"
I was too late to help hand the royal, my especial sail since I had gotfamiliar with my footing aloft; but the mizzen-topgallant sheets,bowlines and halliards having been hardly a second let go, and the menon the poop having only just begun to haul on the clewlines andbuntlines, I was quite in time to get out on this yard. My aid, indeed,came in usefully in assisting to stow the sail; although, in my hastenot to be eclipsed by Tom Jerrold, I nearly got knocked off my perch onthe foot-rope through the canvas ballooning out, in the same way as itdid when Joe Fergusson so narrowly escaped death only three weeks or sobefore!
The fright, as I clutched hold of a rope and saved myself, made my heartcome in my mouth; and what with this, and the turmoil of the elementsaround me as I clung to the yard, with the deck of the ship so small andfar-away below, and saw the immense area of the swelling sea as far asthe eye could reach--now chopped up into short rolling waves, crownedwith foam, almost in an instant, and the black cloud-covered dome of theheavens that was almost as dark as at midnight--I could not helpthinking of the grandeur of the works of God, and the insignificance ofman and his pigmy attempts to master the elements.
For, beyond the quick sharp puffs of wind that came with the squalls ofrain from almost every point of the compass in succession, the downpourwhich descended from the overcast sky was accompanied with terrible ear-splitting peals of thunder. This seemed to rattle and roll almostimmediately above our heads, as if the overhanging black vault was aboutto burst open every moment; while dazzling forked flashes of bluishlightning zigzagged across the horizon from the zenith, first blindingour eyes with its brilliancy for a second and then making the darknessall around the darker as the vivid glare vanished and the accompanyingthunderbolt sank into the sea--providentially far off to leeward, wherethe full force of the tropical storm was spent, and not near our vessel.
The sight was an awful and magnificent one to me suspended there in mid-air, as it were; but I confess I was not sorry when, presently, themizzen-topgallant was snugly stowed, with the gaskets put round it, andI was able to get down to the more substantial deck below, where I wasnot quite so close to the cloud war going on above!
When I reached the poop, as the Silver Queen was now stripped of hersuperfluous canvas and ready for anything that might happen should thesqualls last, Mr Mackay seeing that I was wet through told me that Imight go down and change my clothes. This I gratefully did, feeling allthe better on getting into a dry suit, over which I took the precautionbefore coming out of the deck-house again of rigging my waterproof and atarpaulin hat; for the rain was still coming down in a regular deluge,"as if the sluice-valve of the water tank above had somehow or otherjammed foul, so that the water couldn't be turned off for a while"--thisbeing Tom Jerrold's explanation of it.
Feeling chilled from the damp after the great heat of the morning, assoon as I had doffed my wet things I went round to the galley to see ifI could discover a drop of hot coffee knocking about, as it was gettingon for tea-time, being now late in the afternoon; but when I got there,instead of finding Ching Wang, who was always punctuality itself in thematter of meal-times, busy with the coppers, there he was flat on hisstomach on the floor of his caboose, with a hideous little brass imageor idol, which might have been Buddha for all that I know to thecontrary, set up in the corner--the Chinese cook being so activelyengaged in salaaming in front of this image, by touching the deck withhis forehead and burning bits of gilt paper before it, as incense Isuppose, that he did not notice me.
"Hullo, Ching Wang," I said, "what are you about?"
"Me chin chin joss, lilly pijjin," he answered, turning to me his round,unconscious, and imperturbable face as if he were engaged in someordinary occupation of everyday life. "Me askee him me watchee ifkyphong catchee ship, no sabey?"
The poor fellow evidently believed more in his god than I did in mine;for here he was in a moment of danger, as he thought, praying for help,while I, who had almost lost my life when I so nearly escaped tumblingfrom the topgallant yard only a moment or so since, had thoughtlesslyforgotten Him who had saved me!
I think of this now, but I didn't then. Nay, I even laughed at ChingWang's ignorance when speaking to Tim Rooney, whom I met as I retreatedfrom the galley, telling him that I wondered how the generally astuteChinaman could really fancy he was propitiating Buddha, or whoever elsehe believed in as his sovereign deity, by burning a few scraps of tinselpaper to do honour to the senseless image.
"Be jabers, though," argued Tim on my giving him this opinion of mine,"I can't say, sorr, as how we Christians be any the betther."
"Why!" I exclaimed indignantly. "How can you say so?"
"Begorra, sure we all thry to have our ray-ligion as chape as we can,"replied he coolly. "Don't we, Cath'lics an' Protistints aloike, forthere's little to choose atwane us on the p'int, contint oursilves widas little as we can hilp, goin' once to chapel or church, mebbe, av aSunday an' thinkin' we've wiped out all the avil we may a-done in thewake, an' have a clane sheet for the nixt one--jist as this poor ig'ranthaythin booms his goold paper afore his joss an' thinks that clears offall his ould scores. I say no differ, sure, mesilf, Misther Gray-ham,atwane us, that same, as I tould ye."
I did not answer Tim, but his words affected me more than any sermon Iever heard from the pulpit; and, as I went back to my cabin I determinedto try and keep to something I had promised father before parting fromhim, and which I had neglected up to then--my promise being never toforget my daily prayer to "Him who rules the waves," even should I haveno time to look at my Bible.
The weather cleared up before sunset, and the wind subsequently began toblow steadily from the southward and eastward, showing that we had atlength got into the wished-for "trade;" so the ship soon had all plainsail set on her again, now heading, though, sou'-sou'-west on the porttack, and making a bee-line almost for the island of Trinidad off theSouth American coast.
Having lost our outer jib, however, from its blowing away in the firstsquall, a new one had to be fitted and bent on; and as we were hoistingstudding sails, too, the jewel block on the main-topsail yard carriedaway. So, another block had to be got up and secured to the end of theyard-arm before the halliards could be rove afresh for getting up thestu'n'sail; and, I had opportunities in both instances for acquiringbetter knowledge of seamanship--gaining more by watching Adams thesailmaker and Tim Rooney at work on their respective jobs, than I couldhave obtained in a twelvemonth by the perusal of books or from oralinformation.
We had long lost sight of our old friend the North Star and hispointers, who guide the mariner, should he be without a compass, innorthern latitudes, making acquaintance now with a new constellatio
n,the Southern Cross, which grew more brilliant each night as we ranfurther and further below the Equator. Other stars, too, of surpassingbrightness made the heavens all radiant as soon as the sun set eachevening, there being no twilight to speak of--the night and its gloriescoming upon us as quickly as the last scrap of daylight fled. In themorning it was the same, the firmament being still bright with starlightwhen the glorious orb of day rose in all his majesty and paled intoinsignificance his lesser rivals, who, however, twinkled up to the verylast.
This was by far the jolliest part of our voyage; for, although theweather was nice and warm, it had not that disagreeable, clammy heat weexperienced at the Line, on account of the fresh south-east breezetempering the effect of the sun, which, however, still shone down on usat noon with tropical force, its rays being as potent almost as at theEquator.
But the sea had lost all that glassy brazen look it had in the calmlatitudes, now dancing with life and as blue as the heavens above it;while as our gallant ship sailed on, running pretty large on the porttack with everything set that could draw--skysails being hoisted on topof the royals and staysails, and trysails on every mast, with theforetopmast staysail, jib and flying jib forward, and upper and lowerstu'n'sails spread out to windward--she looked like some beautiful birdin full flight with outstretched wings, her motion through the waterbeing so easy and graceful, while the sparkling spray was tossed upsometimes over the sprit-sail yard as she ever and anon dipped her bows,as if curtsying to Neptune. It seemed to me the most delightful thingin the world to be there, ship and sea and air and sky being all alikein harmony, expressing the poetry of progression!
My work, too, although we had plenty to do, to "keep us out ofmischief," as the captain said, was not too hard, especially at thisperiod.
In the morning, after an early coffee, when few thought of turning inagain although it might be their watch below, the weather was soenjoyable, the order was given for "brooms and buckets aft," and thefirst duty of the day was attended to. This was to scrub decks, just asin a well-ordered household the servant cleans the door-step beforeanyone is astir; the decks of a ship giving as good a notion of what hercommander is like, as the door-step of a house does of its mistress!
For this job the men forward rigged the head pump and sluiced theforecastle and main-deck; while we apprentices had to wash down thepoop, having a fine time over it dowsing one another with buckets ofwater, and chasing each other round the mizzen-mast and binnacle, orelse dodging the expected deluge behind the skylight--sometimes awakingCaptain Gillespie up, and making him come up the companion in a toweringrage to ask "what the dickens" we were "kicking up all that row for?"
Once, as he came up in this way, Tom Jerrold caught him full in the facewith a bucket of water he was pitching at me; and wasn't there a shindyover it, that's all! "Old Jock" was unable to find out who did it, forof course none of us would tell on Tom, and the water in the captain'seyes prevented him from seeing who was his assailant; but, heimmediately ordered Tom, as well as Weeks and I, all up into the cross-trees, Tom at the fore, Sam at the main, and I on the mizzen-mast, to"look out for land," instead of having our breakfast.
As we were some hundreds of miles off the nearest coast, our task oflooking out for land was entirely a work of supererogation; still, wedid not realise this, and strained our eyes vainly until we were calleddown from aloft at "two bells," after the hands had all had theirbreakfast and there was nothing left for us. This was "Jock's"satisfaction in return for the shower bath he had been treated to sounceremoniously. Tom Jerrold afterwards said that he did not noticeJock coming up the companion way, and that of course he would never havedreamt of treating the captain so disrespectfully; but, as Master Tominvariably grinned whenever he made this declaration, Weeks and I, aswell as Tim Rooney, who somehow or other got hold of the yarn, all hadour suspicions on the point.
However, this is a digression from the description of our daily duties.
After scrubbing decks, each watch alternately had breakfast; and then,as now, when the wind was fair and hardly a brace or rope required to behanded from morning till night or from night till morning, we and therest of the crew were set to work unravelling ends of junk and pickingoakum, like convicts.
After being thus disintegrated, the tow was spun into sennit or finetwine and yarn which is always of use on board, quantities of it beingused in "serving" and "parcelling" for chafing gear.
At noon, the crew had their dinner, watch in and watch out, but weapprentices had to wait till the captain and mates had theirs; although,as I've already mentioned, we saw little of the delicacies of the cabintable except occasionally of a Sunday, on which day, sometimes, CaptainGillespie's heart was more benevolently inclined towards us apparently.During the afternoon watch on week-days we were allowed to amuseourselves as we liked, and I frequently took advantage of thisopportunity to learn all that Tim Rooney and Adams could teach meforward--the two being great cronies, and busying themselves at thisperiod of the day, if there were nothing to call their attentionelsewhere, in doing odd jobs on the forecastle, the one in thesailmaking line and the other attending to his legitimate occupation oflooking after the weak points of the rigging, all concerning which camewithin his special province as boatswain.
After tea, all hands were allowed to skylark about the decks below andaloft until the end of the second dog-watch at "eight bells;" when, thenight being fairly on us in the southern latitudes we were traversing,those whose turn it was to go below turned in, and the others having the"first watch" took the deck until they were relieved at midnight andretired to their well earned rest. But, of course, should "all hands"be called to take in sail, on account of the wind shifting or a suddensquall breaking over the ship, which fortunately did not happen at thetime of which I am speaking, those who might only have just turned inhad to turn out again instanter. In the same way, I may add, had theweather been stormy and changeable all of us would have had plenty to doin taking in and setting sail, without leisure for sennit reeving andyarn spinning and playing "Tom Cox's traverse" about the decks frommorning till night, as we did in those halcyon days between the tropics.
We sighted Martin Vas Rocks, to the eastward of Trinidad Islands, inlatitude 20 degrees 29 minutes south and longitude 28 degrees 51 minuteswest, a little over a week from our leaving the Line, having made a verygood passage so far from England, this being our thirty-sixth day out.
Soon after this, the south-east trades failing us and varying westerlybreezes taking their place, we hauled our wind, altering our course tosouth-east by south, and making to pass the meridian on the forty-seventh parallel of latitude. This we did so as to get well to thesouthward of the Cape of Good Hope, between which and ourselves a longstretch of some three thousand miles of water lay; although both CaptainGillespie and Mr Mackay appeared to make nothing of this, looking uponit as the easiest part of our journey.
Indeed, the latter told me so.
"Now, it's all plain sailing, my boy, and we ought to run that distancein a fortnight or so from here, with the strong westerly and sou'-western winds we'll soon fetch into on this tack," said he; "but, waittill we come to the region of the Flying Dutchman's Cape, and thenyou'll make acquaintance with a sea such as you have never seen before,all that we've gone through as yet being merely child's play incomparison."
"What, worse than the Bay of Biscay?" I cried.
"Why, that was only a fleabite, youngster," he replied laughing. "Isuppose you magnified it in your imagination from being sea-sick. Theweather off the Cape of Storms, however; is a very different matter. Itis quite in keeping with its name!"
But, still, for the next few days, at first proceeding close-hauled onthe starboard tack and then, as the wind veered more round to the west,running free before it, with all our flying kites and stu'n'sails set,the time passed as pleasantly as before; and we had about just as littleto do in the way of seamanship aboard, the ship almost steering herselfand hardly a tack or a sheet needing to be touched. I
noticed, though,Adams a little later on with a couple of men whom he requisitioned assailmakers' mates busy cutting out queer little triangular pieces ofcanvas, which he told me were "storm staysails," the old ones havingbeen blown away last voyage; while I saw that Tim Rooney, besidesassuring himself of the security of the masts and setting up preventerstays for additional strength by the captain's orders, rigging up life-lines fore and aft, saying when I asked him what they were for, "Tohould on wid, sure, whin we toombles into Cape weather, me darlint!"
There were no signs of any change yet, though; and the hands got so hardup for amusement with the small amount of work they had to perform, inspite of Captain Gillespie hunting up all sorts of odd jobs for them todo in the way of cleaning the brass-work of the ship and polishing thering-bolts, that they got into that "mischief," which, the proverb tellsus, Satan frequently "finds for idle hands" to do.
Tom Jerrold and I were in the boatswain's cabin one afternoon teachingthe starling to speak a fresh sentence--the bird having got quite tameand learnt to talk very well already, saying "Bad cess to ye" and "Tipus yer flipper," just like Tim Rooney, with his brogue and all; when,all at once, we heard some scrambling going on in the long-boat abovethe deckhouse, and the sound of men's voices whispering together.
"Some of the fellows forrud are having a rig with the skipper's pigs,"cried Tom. "Let us watch and see what they're up to."
"They can't be hurting the poor brutes," said I, speaking in the samesubdued tone, so as not to alarm the men and make them think anyone waslistening; "I'm sure of that, or they would soon make a noise!"
"I suppose I was mistaken," observed Tom presently, when we could nothear the sailor's whispering voices any longer nor any grunting from thepigs; although we kept our ears on the alert. "I fancy, though, theywere up to something, from a remark I heard just now when I passed bythe fo'c's'le as the starboard watch were having their tea."
"What was that?" I asked. "Did they speak of doing anything?"
"No-o," replied Tom hesitatingly, as if he did not quite like telling meall he knew, being afraid perhaps of my informing Mr Mackay, from thelatter and I being now known to be close friends albeit I was only anapprentice and he the first mate. "I only heard them joking about thatbeastly marmalade the skipper has palmed off on them, and us, too, worseluck, in lieu of our proper rations of salt junk; and one of them saidhe'd `like to swap all his lot for the voyage for a good square meal ofroast pork,' that's all."
"Why, any of us might have said that," cried I laughing, and not seeingany harm in the observation. "I'm sure I would not object to a changeof diet."
Later on in the evening, though, what Tom had related was brought backto me with much point; for, a curious circumstance occurred shortlyafter "four bells," when it was beginning to get dark after sunset, thenight closing in so rapidly.
The captain was then on the poop talking to Mr Saunders about somethingor other in which they both seemed deeply interested, the one sniffingand twitching his long nose about, and the other wagging his red beardas he moved his jaws in talking. I was just above their heads in themizzen-top, my favourite retreat of an evening, whither I had taken up abook to read, although I could barely distinguish the print by thistime, daylight had disappeared so quickly on the sun's sinking in thedeep astern; when, all at once, a violent squealing and grunting brokeout from the long-boat, sufficient for more than a herd of porkers allin their last agony, instead of its coming from one or even all three ofthe pigs Captain Gillespie had stowed there, fattening them up until hethought them big enough to kill for the table.
"Who the dickens is that troubling my pigs?" roared the captain,clutching hold of the brass rail of the poop in front of him, andsquinting forwards as well as he could in the dim light to where theclew of the main-sail just lifting disclosed the fore part of the deck-house with the long-boat on top. "None of your sky-larking there, d'yehear? Leave 'em alone!"
But, there was no one to be seen either on top of the deck-house or inthe long-boat, although the squealing still continued.
"D'ye hear me there, forrud?" shouted Captain Gillespie again in a voiceof thunder, having now worked himself up into one of his tornado-likerages. "Leave those pigs alone, I tell ye!"
"Sure, sorr, there's nobody there," said Tim Rooney, who was on themain-deck below, just under the break of the poop. "There's divil asowl botherin' the blissid pigs, sorr, as ye can say for y'rsilf. Faix,they're ownly contrary a bit, sorr, an' p'raps onaisy in their moind!"
"Nonsense, man!" cried Captain Gillespie stamping his foot. "It is someof those mutinous rascals carrying on their games, I--I know! Justlook, will ye, bosun?"
"There ar'n't a sowl thare, I tell ye, sorr," protested Tim, rather abit vexed at his word being doubted, as he turned to go forward wherethe row was still going on. "Ain't I jist come from there, sorr, an'can't I say now wid me own eyes there ain't nobody not nigh the long-boat nor the pigs neither--bad cess to 'em!"
He muttered the last words below his breath, and getting up into themain-rigging he climbed half-way up the shrouds, so as to be able todrop from thence on to the deck-house, this being his quickest mode ofreaching the roof of that structure; and from thence, as he knew, hewould of course be able to see right into the long-boat as well asinspect its four-footed tenants.
"There's not a sowl in the boat or near it, sorr, at all, at all, cap'endear, barrin' the pigs sure, as I towld ye," he repeated on getting sofar; and he was just proceeding to lower himself down to the top of thedeck-house by a loose rope that was hanging from aloft, when he swunghimself back into the rigging in alarm as a dark body jumped out of thelong-boat right across his face, uttering the terrified ejaculation,"Murther in Irish! Howly Moses, what is that?"
It was one of the pigs, which, giving vent to a most diabolical yell,appeared to leap from the long-boat deliberately over the port side ofthe ship into the sea, sinking immediately with a stifled grunt,alongside.
Then more weird squeaking was heard, and a second pig imitated hiscomrade's example, jumping also from the boat overboard--just as if theywere playing the game of "follow my leader" which we often indulged inwhen sky-larking in the second dog-watch!
This was no sky-larking, however, for the captain on the poop, as wellas Mr Saunders and myself up in the mizzen-top, had witnessed the wholeof the strange occurrence the same as Tim Rooney, and all of us wereequally astonished.
As for Captain Gillespie, being a very superstitious man, he seemedstrongly impressed by what had happened. His voice quite trembled as hecalled out to Tim Rooney after a moment's pause, during which he was toomuch startled to speak:
"Wha--what's the matter with them, bosun?"
"Sorry o' me knows," replied Tim in an equally awestruck voice, eitherfull of real or very well assumed terror, "barrin' that the divil's gothowld av 'em; an' it's raal vexed I am, sorr, av spakin' so moightydisrespectful av his honour jist now. Aye, take me worrud for it,cap'en, they're possiss'd, as sure as eggs is mate!"
"I think the same, and that the deil's got into 'em," said CaptainGillespie gravely, wrinkling up his nose so much and nodding his head,and looking so like an old owl in the bright light of the moon which hadrapidly risen, and was already shining with all the fulness andbrilliancy it has in these southern latitudes, that it was as much as Icould do to keep from bursting out laughing and so betraying my presencein the top above his head. I was all the more amused, too, when "OldJock" turned to the second mate and added: "I look upon this as avisitation, and am glad I never killed the animals; for I would nottouch one now for anything! Have the remaining brute chucked overboard,Saunders; it would be unlucky to keep it after what has happened. I'msure I could not bear the sight of it or to hear it grant again!"
So saying, Captain Gillespie went below and took a stiff glass of grogto recover his nerves. He must then have got into his cot for he didnot appear on deck again until the middle watch--a most unusual thingfor him to do.
"It's an ill wind that
blows nobody any good," however, and the aptnessof the adage was well illustrated in the present instance, the menfeasting on roast pork, besides putting by some tit-bits salted down fora rainy day, at the expense of "Old Jock's" superstitious fears.
It was wonderful, though, how many legs were owned by that one "lastpig" which the captain had ordered to be chucked overboard, and whichMr Saunders had, instead, given over to Ching Wang's tender mercies forthe benefit of himself and the crew, stipulating, however, that he wasto have one of the best pieces stuffed and baked, the second mate beinga great glutton always, and fond of good living. Yes, it was wonderfulfor one pig to have no less than twelve legs!
I will tell you how this was.
Tom Jerrold let me into the secret. It seems that the apparent suicidaltendencies of the pigs who jumped into the sea in that mysterious waywas caused by the fore-topgallant stu'n'sail halliards being dexterouslyfastened round them by a couple of the hands previously in slingfashion; and when the poor brutes were jerked overboard by the aid ofthese, they were allowed to tow under the keel of the ship until theirsqueals were hushed for ever, and then drawn inboard again and cut up inthe forecastle. When they were carved properly into pork, the menthought them none the less delicious because they had come to theirdeath by water instead of by the ordinary butcher's knife; and, as I hadthe opportunity of testing this opinion in a savoury little pig's frywhich Ching Wang presented me with the same evening for supper, I cannotbut acknowledge that I agreed thoroughly with the judgment of the handsin the matter of "spiflicated pork," as Tom Jerrold called it.
"Dick, Dick, what do you think of it all?" said I, chirping to thestarling, who was whistling wide awake when I turned out next morning at"eight bells" after dreaming of the poor murdered pigs, on my way to thegalley to get some hot coffee. "What do you think of it all--eh, Dick?"
"Tip us your flipper!" hoarsely croaked the bright-eyed little bird withthe voice of Tim Rooney, only seeming to be a very long way off. Healso seemed to have the nose of Captain Gillespie, which we all said hislong beak strongly resembled. "Tip us your flipper!"
That was all I could get out of him; but I thought that, really, a wronghad been righted, and the captain's marmalade imposition on us and onthe hands forward been amply avenged.
Poor "Old Jock's" live stock of late appeared to be in a very bad way;for, not only was he deprived of his favourite pigs so unfortunately,but since we had begun to run more to southward after leaving the Line,his supply of eggs from the collection of hens he had in the coops onthe poop daily dwindled down to nothing, although they had previouslybeen good layers.
Somehow or other the fowls seemed to have the pip, while the threecocks, one a splendid silver and gold fellow, who lorded over the haremof Dorkings and Brahmas, all looked torn and bedraggled as if they hadgiven way to dissipated habits. Besides this, they took to crowingdefiance against each other at the most unearthly hours, whereas, priorto this, their time for chanticleering had been as regular as clock-work, in the afternoon and in the "middle watch" generally.
Captain Gillespie couldn't make it out at all.
One fine morning, however, coming on the deck through the cuddy doorsbelow the break of the poop instead of mounting up to the latter by thecompanion way as usual, before the time for washing down, he surprised anumber of the men assembled about the cook's galley.
There was Ching Wang in the centre of the group, holding CaptainGillespie's pet gold and silver crower and urging it on to fight one ofthe other cocks, which the carpenter was officiating for as "bottleholder" in the most scientific way, he apparently being no novice at thecruel sport.
The captain did not see what they were about at first; but thedelinquent was soon pointed out by Pedro Carvalho, between whom and theChinaman the most deadly enmity existed, and who had indeed alreadyinformed the captain of the cook's treatment of his fowls, thePortuguese steward doing this with much alacrity, as if proud of beingthe informer.
"Look dere, sah!" cried Pedro. "Dere is dat Ching Wang now, sah! Oh,yase, dere he was, sah, as I say, killin' your cockles magnificent--oh!"
The captain's appearance at once broke up the ring, the carpenterdropping his bird incontinently and fleeing into the forecastle with theother men; but, the Chinaman never moved a muscle of his countenancewhen he turned his round innocent-looking, vacuous, Mongolian face andcaught sight of "Old Jock's" infuriated look bent on him.
He did not even let go the gold and silver cock, whose plumage had beensadly tarnished by a previous tournament with the Dorking which thecarpenter had squired. No, he held his ground there before the galleywith a courage one could not but admire, the only sign he gave of aninward emotion being the occasional twinkling of his little beadyChinese eyes.
"Wh-wha-what the dicken's d-d-d'ye mean by this?" stuttered andstammered Captain Gillespie, his passion almost stopping his speech."Wh-wh-what d'ye mean, I say?"
"Me only hab piecee cocky-fightee," answered Ching Wang as calmly aspossible. "Me chin chin you, cap'en."
Captain Gillespie fairly boiled over with rage.
"This beats cock-fighting!" he cried, stating the case inadvertently inhis exclamation. "I thought it was those confounded cats we have aboardthe ship that ill-treated the poor fowls and prevented them from layingme any eggs, till Pedro here told me it was you, though I didn't believeit. I wouldn't have believed it now if I hadn't seen you at it. Byjingo, it's shameful!"
Ching Wang, however, paid no attention to this violent tirade, onlysalaaming humbly and looking the very picture of meekness andcontrition.
But his eyes, as I could see, being close by, having been attracted bythe row as most of us were, had altered their expression, now flashingwith a peculiar glare as the Chinaman, with a more abject bow thanbefore to the captain, asked him deferentially:
"And dis one manee you tellee Ching Wang cocky-fightee one piecee--hi?"
"Yes, Pedro told me," replied Captain Gillespie, sniffing and snortingout the words. "And a good job too; for, else, I wouldn't have known ofyour goings on!"
Ching Wang's yellow face almost turned white with anger.
"Hi, blackee-brownee manee," he yelled, springing upon Pedro like atiger. "You takee dat number one, chop chop!"
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