CHAPTER TWELVE.
A STRANGE SAIL.
Although a coward at heart, the Portuguese steward, nerved by hisintense hatred of the cook, made a bold resistance to his firstonslaught, clutching at Ching Wang's pigtail with one hand and clawingat his face with the other; while the Chinaman gripped his neck with hissinewy fingers, the two rolling on the deck in a close embrace, whichwas the very reverse of a loving one.
"Carajo!" gurgled out Pedro, half-strangled at the outset, but havingsuch a tight hold of Ching Wang's tail, of which he had taken a doubleturn round his wrist, that he was able to bend his antagonist's headback, almost dislocating his neck. "Matarei te, podenga de cozenheiro!"
"Aha cutus pijjin, me catchee you, chop chop!" grunted the other throughhis clenched teeth; and then, not another word escaped either of them asthey both sprawled and tumbled about in front of the galley, lockedtogether, the Chinee finally coming up on top triumphantly, with Pedro,all black in the face and with his tongue protruding, below his litheenemy.
"Take him off the man, some of you," cried Captain Gillespie, who hadnot made any effort to stop the combat until now that it bad arrived atsuch an unsatisfactory stage for the steward. "Don't you see thatyellow devil's murdering him? He looks more than half dead already!"
Tim Rooney hereupon stepped forwards; but Ching Wang did not need anyforce to compel him to quit his powerless foe.
Disengaging his pigtail from Pedro's limp fingers, he arose with a sortof native dignity from his prostrate position over the Portuguese, hisround face all one bland smile--although it bore sundry scratches on itsotherwise smooth surface, whose oiliness had probably saved it fromgreater hurt.
"Him no sabbey," he exclaimed, pointing down to the still prostratePedro, who, now that the Chinaman's grip had been released from histhroat, began to show signs of returning life, "what me can do. Himmore wanchee, Ching Wang plenty givee chop chop!"
"I tell ye what, me joker," cried "Old Jock" after him as the victoriouscook retired into his galley on making this short speech, with all thehonours of war--the hands raising a cheer, which the presence of thecaptain could not drown, at the result of the encounter; for all of themlooked on the steward as one opposed to their interests, and who cheatedthem in their provisions when serving them out, regarding the Chinaman,on the other hand, as their friend and ally, he always taking their partin this respect. "I tell ye what, me joker, I'll stop your wages andmake ye pay for my fowls when we get to Shanghai! I don't mind yourbasting the steward, for a thrashing will do him good, as he has wantedone for some time; but I do mind your knocking those fine birds of mineabout with your confounded `one piecee cock-fightee.' Look at this one,now; he's fit for nothing but the pot, and the sooner you cook him thebetter."
Ching Wang only smiled more blandly than ever as the captain, who hadpicked up the two cocks, flung the silver and gold one into the galley,taking the other aft and restoring it to its coop; while Pedro, risingpresently to his feet, amidst the grins of the men around, sneaked after"Old Jock," saying never a word but looking by no means amiable. Hisdeparture ended the incident of the morning, and we immediately finishedsluicing the decks, the cook and steward fight having somewhat delayedthis operation, as it was getting on for "eight bells" and nearlybreakfast-time.
Towards noon, on the same day, we passed by the island of Tristan daCunha, the land bearing on our port quarter sou'-west by south whenseen; and, on the thirteenth day after turning our backs on the MartinVas Rocks, we crossed the meridian of Greenwich in latitude 46 degrees58 minutes south, steering almost due east so as to weather the Cape ofGood Hope. The westerly wind was dead aft, which made us roll a bit;but we "carried on," with the ship covered with sail from truck tokelson and stu'n'sails all the way up both on our weather side and toleeward, as well as spinnakers and a lot of other things in the sailline whose names I can't remember.
Proceeding thus gaily along, with our yards squared and every stitch ofcanvas drawing fore and aft, in another couple of days or so the Capepigeons and shearwaters began to come about the ship, showing that wewere approaching the stormy region Mr Mackay had warned me of; and onthe fourth night the sky ahead of us became overcast, while a lot ofsheet and zig-a-zaggy "chain lightning," as sailors call it, told us tolook out for squalls.
This was a true portent; for the wind freshened during the first watch,causing us to take in all of our stu'n'sails before midnight. Thenfollowed the royals and topgallants in quick succession, the main-sailand inner and outer jibs being next furled and the foresail reefed, thevessel at "four bells" being only under topsails and fore-topgallantstaysail and reefed foresail.
As I had noticed previously, when crossing the Bay of Biscay, the seagot up very quickly as the wind increased, only with much more alarmingrapidity now than then; for, while at sunset the ocean was comparativelysmooth, it became covered with big rolling waves by the time that webegan to reduce sail, the billows swelling in size each moment, andtossing and breaking against each other as the wind shifted round deadin our teeth to the north-east, the very quarter where we had seen thelightning.
"We're going to have a dirty night of it, sir," said Mr Mackay to thecaptain, who after turning in for a short time when the starboard watchwas relieved had come on deck again, anxious about the ship. "I thoughtwe'd have a blow soon."
"Humph, Cape weather!" snorted out Captain Gillespie. "We're just inthe proper track of it now, being nearly due south of Table Mountain, asI make it. I think you'd better get down our lighter spars, Mackay, forthis is only the beginning of it--the glass was sinking just now."
"Aye, aye sir," returned the first mate, who had previously called thewatch aft for this very purpose, crying out to the men standing by: "Layaloft there, and see how soon you can send down those royal yards!"
Matthews, who was trying all he could to deserve his promotion and hadremained up after the rest of his watch had gone below, helped TomJerrold and me in sending down ours; and, when up aloft, the most activetopman I noticed was Joe Fergusson, the bricklayer. As "Old Jock" withhis shrewd seaman's eyes had anticipated, he had developed into a smartsailor, considering the short time he was learning, being now quickerthan some of those who had been to sea for years and were thought goodhands.
On the present occasion he ran us a rare race with the main-royal yard,we getting the mizzen spar below but a second or two in advance of hisparty.
After this the topgallant yards were sent down likewise on deck and themasts struck, "all hands" being called to get the job done as soon aspossible. Indeed this was vitally necessary, for the storm wasincreasing in force every moment, and our topsails had to be reefedimmediately the royal yards were down and the topgallants lowered.
Getting rid of all this top hamper, however, made the ship ride all theeasier over the heavy waves that met her bows full butt; and, now, shedid not roll half as much as she had done while she had all those sparsup, although what she lost in this respect she made up for in pitching--diving down as the big seas rolled under her keel and lifted up herstern as if she were about paying a visit to the depths below, and thenraising her bowsprit the next instant so high in the air that it lookedas if she were trying to poke a hole in the sky with it!
Shortly before "six bells" the gale blew so fiercely that it was as muchas we could do to stand on the poop; and when, presently, Mr Mackaygave the order for us to take in the mizzen-topsail, we had to waitbetween the gusts to get up aloft, for the pressure of the windflattened us against the rigging as if we had been "spread-eagled,"making it impossible to move for the moment.
But sailors mustn't be daunted by anything to be "worth their salt;" so,watching an opportunity, we climbed up by degrees to the top and then onto the upper rigging until we gained the cross-trees, being all thewhile pretty well lashed by the gale. Our eyes were blinded, and ourfaces all made sore and smarting by it, I can tell you, while we werewell out of breath by the time we had got so far.
The topsail sheets and halliards,
of course, had been let fly before weleft the deck; but in order not to expose the sail more than could behelped to the force of the storm, the clewlines and buntlines were nothauled open until we were up on the yard, so that the topsail should notremain longer bagged in folds than necessary before we could furl it outof harm's way.
Still, the precaution was of no avail; for hardly had the men on deckhanded the clewlines, when the sail, bulging out under our feet like ahuge bag, or rather series of bags, as the wind puckered its folds,burst away from its bolt-ropes with a noise like the report of a gundischarged close to our ears, just as if we had cut it from off theyard, thus saving us any further trouble in furling it.
Casting my eyes round ere beginning the perilous task of climbing downthe shrouds again, for it was as much as one could do to hold on, thesharp gusts when they caught one's legs twirling them about likefeathers in the air, the outlook was not merely grand but positivelyawful. The sea was now rolling, without the slightest exaggeration butliterally speaking, mountains high as far as the eye could reach, andthe scud flying across my face in the mizzen cross-trees; while thewaves on either side of the ship, as we descended into the hollowbetween them every now and then, were on a level with the yard-armsbelow and even sometimes rose above these.
"Come, my men," I heard Mr Mackay calling out, as I at last put my footdown to feel for the nearest ratline before commencing to descend therigging, "look sharp with that fore-tops'le or we'll have it go like themizzen!"
His words were prophetic.
"R-r-r-r-r-r-ip!" sounded the renting, tearing noise of the sail, almostas soon as he spoke; and then, with a greater "bang!" than that of themizzen-topsail, the main topsail split first from clew to earing and thenext second blew away bodily to leeward, floating like a cloud as it wascarried along the crests of the rollers out of our ken in a minute. Thefore-topsail imitated its example the next moment, leaving the ship nowwith only the reefed foresail on her in the shape of canvas, a wonderfulmetamorphosis to the appearance she presented the previous evening atsunset!
We had been trying to beat to windward, so as not to fall off ourcourse; but now that we had hardly a rag to stand by, the captain put upthe helm and let her run for it, the foresail with the gale that wasblowing sending her at such a rate through the water as to prevent anyof the following seas from pooping her. The fear alone of this hadprevented him doing so before, "Old Jock" being as fond of scudding ashe was of carrying on when he had a fair wind.
Adams and the hands forward, though, were busy getting ready the stormstaysails I had seen the former cutting out some days previously so asto be prepared to hoist them on the first available opportunity, as itwould never do to run too far off our course, which many hours going atthat rate before the nor'-easter would soon have effected; and so,during a slight lull that occurred about breakfast-time, a mizzenstaysail and foretopmast staysail, each about the size of a respectablepocket-handkerchief, were got aloft judiciously and the foresail ascarefully handed, when the ship was brought round again head to wind andlay-to on the port tack.
A little later there was one terrific burst, the tops of the waves beingcut off as with a knife and borne aboard us in sheets of water, whilethe Silver Queen heeled over to starboard so greatly that it seemed asif she would "turn the turtle" and go down sideways with all hands; butit was the last blast of the storm, for each succeeding hour lessenedits force, although the sea continued high. After that it grewgradually calmer and calmer, until we were able to make sail again andbear away eastwards, rounding the Cape two days afterwards, our fifty-sixth from England, in 37 degrees south latitude--the meridian of the"Flying Dutchman's fortress," as Table Mountain has been termed by thosewho once believed in the Vanderdecken legend, being a little over 18degrees east longitude.
"Begorra, that's a good job done wid anyhow," said Tim Rooney on "OldJock" telling us that all danger of weathering the Cape was past andthat we were well within the limits of the Southern Ocean, whose longroll, however, and the cold breath of the Antarctic ice-fields hadalready betrayed this fact to the old hands on board. "I once knockedabout in a vessel as were a-tryin' to git round this blissid place for amonth av Sundays, an' couldn't."
"And what did you do, measter?" asked Joe Fergusson, who had a greatrespect for the boatswain and was eyeing him open-mouthed. "What didyou do when you couldn't sail round it?"
"Be jabers we wint the other way, av course, ye nanny goat," cried Tim,raising the laugh against Joe. "Any omahdawn would know that, sure!"
The wind hauled round more to the west-sou'-west again when we hadpassed the Argulhas Bank, reaching down to the southward until we werein latitude 39 degrees South; so, squaring our yards again, we preservedthis parallel until we fetched longitude 78 degrees east, just belowSaint Paul's Island, a distance of some three thousand miles. Weaccomplished this in another fortnight after rounding the Cape; andthen, steering up the chart again, we shaped our course nor'-east bynorth, so as to cross the southern tropic in longitude 102 degrees East.
After two or three days, we reached a warmer temperature, when the windfalling light and becoming variable we crossed our topgallant and royalyards again, spreading all the sail we could so as to make the best ofthe breezes we got. These were now mingled with occasional showers ofrain, as is customary with the south-west monsoon in those latitudes atthis time of year, it being now well into the month of May.
For weeks past the Silver Queen had delighted the captain, and, indeed,all of us on board, with her sailing powers, averaging over two hundredknots a day, which considering her great bilge was as fast as the mostfamous clippers; but now that she only logged a paltry hundred or so,going but five or six per hour instead of ten to twelve, "Old Jock"began to grumble, snapping and finding fault with everybody in turns.
The men forward, too, reciprocated very heartily in the grumbling line,there not being so much for them to do as of late; and, the greatmarmalade question again cropping up, things became very unpleasant inthe ship.
One day I really thought there was going to be a mutiny.
The men came in a body aft, headed by the carpenter, whom the captainhad been rather rough on ever since he found him that morning we wereoff Tristan da Cunha aiding and abetting Ching Wang in his cruel cock-fighting propensities; although, strange to say, "Old Jock" seemed tocondone the action of the chief offender, never having a hard word forthe Chinee albeit plenty for Gregory, the carpenter.
On this eventful occasion Captain Gillespie was seated on the poop in anAmerican rocking-chair which he had brought up from his cabin, enjoyingthe warm weather and wrinkling his nose over the almost motionless sailshanging down limply from the yards; and he did not disturb himself inanywise when Gregory and the others advanced from forward, stepping aftalong the main-deck one by one to the number of a round dozen or more,the crowd halting and forming themselves into a ring under the poopladder, above which the captain had fixed his chair, looking as if they"meant business."
"Hullo!" cried "Old Jock" rousing himself up, rather surprised at thedemonstration. "What are you fellows doing below there?"
"We wants meat," replied the carpenter, taking off his straw hat andgiving a scrape back with his left foot, so as to begin politely at anyrate. "We aren't got enough to eat in the fo'c's'le, sir, an' we wantsour proper 'lowance o' meat, instead of a lot of rotten kickshawmarmalade!"
"Wh-a-at--what the dickens d'ye mean?" roared out "Old Jock," touched onhis tenderest point, the word "marmalade" to him having the same effectas a red rag on a bull. "Didn't I tell ye if ye'd any complaints tomake, to come aft singly and I'd attend to 'em, but that if ye ever cameto me in a body I'd not listen to ye?"
"Aye, aye," said Gregory, "but--"
"Avast there!" shouted the captain interrupting him. "When I say athing I mean a thing; and so ye'd better go forrud again as quick as yecan, or I'll come down and make ye!"
An indignant groan burst from the men at this; while "Jock" danced aboutthe poop brandishing a ma
rlinespike he had clutched hold of, in a mightyrage, storming away until the hands had all, very reluctantly, withdrawngrumbling to the forecastle.
In the afternoon, they refused to turn out for duty; when, after aterrible long palaver, in which Mr Mackay managed to smooth downmatters, the controversy was settled by all the men having half theirmeat ration restored to them, and being obliged only to accept a half-pound tin of marmalade in lieu of a larger quantity as previously. Bothsides consequently gained a sort of victory, the only persondiscontented at this termination of the affair being the steward, Pedro,who took a malicious pleasure in serving out the marmalade each day. Ioften caught sight of him watching with a sort of fiendish glee thedisappointed faces of the hands as they looked at the open casks of porkand beef, which he somewhat ostentatiously displayed before them, as ifto make them long all the more for such substantial fare.
I knew the Portuguese was upset at the amicable end of the difficultybetween the captain and crew, for I saw him stealthily awaiting theresult, peeping from underneath the break of the poop; and, when thehands raised a cheer in token of their satisfaction at the settlement,he immediately went and locked himself in his pantry, where he begankicking the despised marmalade tins about as if twenty riveters andboiler-makers and hammermen were below!
It was very nearly a mutiny, though.
A westerly current being against us as well as the winds light, it tookus nearly a week to get up to the thirty-third parallel of latitude,during which time this little unpleasantness occurred; but then, pickingup the south-east trades off the Australian coast, we went bowling alongsteadily again northward for the Straits of Sunda, making for thewestwards of the passage so as to be to windward of a strong easterlycurrent that runs through the strait.
I was the first on board to see Java Head, a bluff promontory stretchingout into the sea that marks the entrance to Sunda. This was how it was:we'd got more to the north of the captain's reckoning, and while up inthe mizzen cross-trees, in the afternoon of our eighty-fifth day outfrom land to land, I clearly distinguished the headland far-away in thedistance, over our starboard quarter.
"Land ho!" I sang out; "land ho!"
"Are you sure?" cried Captain Gillespie from the deck below looking upat me, when his long nose, being foreshortened, seemed to run into hismouth, giving him the most peculiar appearance. "Where away?"
"Astern now, sir," I answered. "South-east by south, and nearly off theweather topsail."
"I think I'd better have a look myself," said "Old Jock," clambering upthe mizzen-shrouds and soon getting aloft beside me; adding as he caughtsight of the object I pointed out--"by Jingo, you're right, boy! It'sJava Head, sure enough."
He then scuttled down the ratlines like winking.
"Haul in to leeward!" he shouted. "Brace round the yards! Down withyour helm!"
"Port it is," said the boatman.
"Steady then, so!" yelled "Old Jock," conning the ship towards the mouthof the straits. "Keep her east-nor'-east as nearly as you can, givingher a point if she falls off!"
By and by, we entered the Straits of Sunda; and then, keeping the Javashore on board, we steered so as to avoid the Friar's Rock in the middleof the channel, making for Prince's Island.
The wind and current being both in our favour, and the moon rising soonafter sunset, we were able to fetch Anjer Point in the middle watch andgot well within Java Sea by morning. Next day we passed through BancaStrait by the Lucepara Channel, keeping to the Sumatra coast to avoidthe dangerous reefs and rocks on the east side, until we sighted theParmesang Hills. After that we steered north by east, by the SevenIslands into the China Sea.
So far no incident had happened on our nearing land, which all of uswere glad enough to see again, as may be imagined, after our now nearlythree months confinement on board without an opportunity of stretchingour legs ashore, the only terra firma we had sighted since leavingEngland having been Madeira, the Peak of Teneriffe, and the rocks ofMartin Vas; but now, as we glided along past the lovely islets of theIndian Archipelago, radiant in the glowing sunshine, and theiratmosphere fragrant with spices and other sweet odours that concealedthe deadly malaria of the climate, a new sensation of peril addedpiquancy to the zest of our voyage.
On passing the westernmost point of Banca, as the channel we had topursue trended to the north-east, we came up to the wind and then paidoff on the port tack; when, just as we cleared the group of islandslying at the mouth of the Straits of Malacca to windward, we saw a largeproa bearing down in our direction, coming out from behind a projectingpoint of land that had previously prevented us from noticing her.
"Hullo!" I exclaimed to Mr Mackay whom I had accompanied from aft whenhe went forward on the forecastle to direct the conning of the ship,motioning now and again with his arms this way and that how the helmsmanwas to steer. "What a funny-looking vessel, sir. What is it?"
"That's a Malay proa," replied he. "They're generally ticklish craft todeal with; though, I don't suppose this beggar means any harm to us insuch a waterway as this, where we meet other vessels every hour or so."
"Do you think it's a pirate ship?" I asked eagerly, "I should like tosee one so much."
"More than I should," said he with a laugh; "but I don't suppose thischap's up to any game like that, though, I think, all the Malays arepirates at heart. He's most likely on a trading voyage like ourselves,only he's going amongst the islands while we're bound north."
However the proa did not bear away, either to port or starboard, nor didit make for any of the clusters of islands on either hand; and, althoughit was barely noon when we had first noticed her, as night came on, bywhich time we were well on our way towards Pulo Sapata, running up tothe northwards fast before the land breeze that blew off shore aftersunset, there was the proa still behind us!
It was very strange, to say the least of it.
Nor was I the only one to think so; for the hands forward, and amongthem Tim Rooney, the boatswain, had also observed the mysterious vessel,as well as taken count of her apparent desire to accompany us.
"Bedad she ain't our frind, or, sure, she'd have come up an' spoke usdacintly, loike a jintleman," I heard Tim say to the sailmaker, outsidethe door of his cabin in the deck-house. "She's oop to no good anyhow,bad cess to the ould thafe, as sure as eggs is mate; an' may I niver atea pratie ag'in if I'm tellin' a lie sure, for I misthrusts them Malayraskils jist as the divil hates howly wather!"
Afloat at Last Page 12