"Obey the last order," is a precept inviolable at sea. So theland-lubber, afraid to refuse to do anything, rushes aboutdistracted, and does nothing: in the end receiving a shower of kicksand cuffs from all quarters.
Added to his other hardships, he is seldom permitted to open his mouthunless spoken to; and then, he might better keep silent. Alas forhim! if he should happen to be anything of a droll; for in an evilhour should he perpetrate a joke, he would never know the last of it.
The witticisms of others, however, upon himself, must be received inthe greatest good-humour.
Woe be unto him, if at meal-times he so much as look sideways at thebeef-kid before the rest are helped.
Then he is obliged to plead guilty to every piece of mischief whichthe real perpetrator refuses to acknowledge; thus taking the place ofthat sneaking rascal nobody, ashore. In short, there is no end to histribulations.
The land-lubber's spirits often sink, and the first result of hisbeing moody and miserable is naturally enough an utter neglect of histoilet.
The sailors perhaps ought to make allowances; but heartless as theyare, they do not. No sooner is his cleanliness questioned than theyrise upon him like a mob of the Middle Ages upon a Jew; drag him intothe lee-scuppers, and strip him to the buff. In vain he bawls formercy; in vain calls upon the captain to save him.
Alas! I say again, for the land-lubber at sea. He is the veriestwretch the watery world over. And such was Bope Tarn; of alllandlubbers, the most lubberly and most miserable. A forlorn,stunted, hook-visaged mortal he was too; one of those whom you knowat a glance to have been tried hard and long in the furnace ofaffliction. His face was an absolute puzzle; though sharp and sallow,it had neither the wrinkles of age nor the smoothness of youth; sothat for the soul of me, I could hardly tell whether he wastwenty-five or fifty.
But to his history. In his better days, it seems he had been ajourneyman baker in London, somewhere about Holborn; and on Sundayswore a Hue coat and metal buttons, and spent his afternoons in atavern, smoking his pipe and drinking his ale like a free and easyjourneyman baker that he was. But this did not last long; for anintermeddling old fool was the ruin of him. He was told that Londonmight do very well for elderly gentlemen and invalids; but for a ladof spirit, Australia was the Land of Promise. In a dark day Ropeywound up his affairs and embarked.
Arriving in Sydney with a small capital, and after a while waxing snugand comfortable by dint of hard kneading, he took unto himself awife; and so far as she was concerned, might then have gone into thecountry and retired; for she effectually did his business. In short,the lady worked him woe in heart and pocket; and in the end, ran offwith his till and his foreman. Ropey went to the sign of the Pipe andTankard; got fuddled; and over his fifth pot meditated suicide--anintention carried out; for the next day he shipped as landsman aboardthe Julia, South Seaman.
The ex-baker would have fared far better, had it not been for hisheart, which was soft and underdone. A kind word made a fool of him;and hence most of the scrapes he got into. Two or three wags, awareof his infirmity, used to "draw him out" in conversation whenever themost crabbed and choleric old seamen were present.
To give an instance. The watch below, just waked from their sleep, areall at breakfast; and Ropey, in one corner, is disconsolatelypartaking of its delicacies. "Now, sailors newly waked are nocherubs; and therefore not a word is spoken, everybody munching hisbiscuit, grim and unshaven. At this juncture an affable-lookingscamp--Flash Jack--crosses the forecastle, tin can in hand, and seatshimself beside the land-lubber.
"Hard fare this, Ropey," he begins; "hard enough, too, for them that'sknown better and lived in Lun'nun. I say now, Ropey, s'posing youwere back to Holborn this morning, what would you have for breakfast,eh?"
"Have for breakfast!" cried Ropey in a rapture. "Don't speak of it!"
"What ails that fellow?" here growled an old sea-bear, turning roundsavagely.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," said Jack; and then, leaning over to RopeYarn, he bade him go on, but speak lower.
"Well, then," said he, in a smuggled tone, his eyes lighting up liketwo lanterns, "well, then, I'd go to Mother Moll's that makes thegreat muffins: I'd go there, you know, and cock my foot on the 'ob,and call for a noggin o' somethink to begin with."
"What then, Ropey?"
"Why then, Flashy," continued the poor victim, unconsciously warmingwith his theme: "why then, I'd draw my chair up and call for Betty,the gal wot tends to customers. Betty, my dear, says I, you lookscharmin' this mornin'; give me a nice rasher of bacon and h'eggs,Betty my love; and I wants a pint of h'ale, and three nice h'otmuffins and butter--and a slice of Cheshire; and Betty, I wants--"
"A shark-steak, and be hanged to you!" roared Black Dan, with an oath.Whereupon, dragged over the chests, the ill-starred fellow ispummelled on deck.
I always made a point of befriending poor Ropey when I could; and, forthis reason, was a great favourite of his.
CHAPTER XV.
CHIPS AND BUNGS
BOUND into port, Chips and Bungs increased their devotion to thebottle; and, to the unspeakable envy of the rest, these jollycompanions--or "the Partners," as the men called them--rolled aboutdeck, day after day, in the merriest mood imaginable.
But jolly as they were in the main, two more discreet tipplers itwould be hard to find. No one ever saw them take anything, exceptwhen the regular allowance was served out by the steward; and to makethem quite sober and sensible, you had only to ask them how theycontrived to keep otherwise. Some time after, however, their secretleaked out.
The casks of Pisco were kept down the after-hatchway, which, for thisreason, was secured with bar and padlock. The cooper, nevertheless,from time to time, effected a burglarious entry, by descending intothe fore-hold; and then, at the risk of being jammed to death,crawling along over a thousand obstructions, to where the casks werestowed.
On the first expedition, the only one to be got at lay among others,upon its bilge with the bung-hole well over. With a bit of iron hoop,suitably bent, and a good deal of prying and punching, the bung wasforced in; and then the cooper's neck-handkerchief, attached to theend of the hoop, was drawn in and out--the absorbed liquor beingdeliberately squeezed into a small bucket.
Bungs was a man after a barkeeper's own heart. Drinking steadily,until just manageably tipsy, he contrived to continue so; gettingneither more nor less inebriated, but, to use his own phrase,remaining "just about right." When in this interesting state, he hada free lurch in his gait, a queer way of hitching up his waistbands,looked unnecessarily steady at you when speaking, and for the rest,was in very tolerable spirits. At these times, moreover, he wasexceedingly patriotic; and in a most amusing way, frequently showedhis patriotism whenever he happened to encounter Dunk, agood-natured, square-faced Dane, aboard.
It must be known here, by the bye, that the cooper had a true sailoradmiration for Lord Nelson. But he entertained a very erroneous ideaof the personal appearance of the hero. Not content with deprivinghim of an eye and an arm, he stoutly maintained that he had also losta leg in one of his battles. Under this impression, he sometimeshopped up to Dunk with one leg curiously locked behind him into hisright arm, at the same time closing an eye.
In this attitude he would call upon him to look up, and behold the manwho gave his countrymen such a thrashing at Copenhagen. "Look you,Dunk," says he, staggering about, and winking hard with one eye tokeep the other shut, "Look you; one man--hang me, half a man--withone leg, one arm, one eye--hang me, with only a piece of a carcase,flogged your whole shabby nation. Do you deny it you lubber?"
The Dane was a mule of a man, and understanding but little English,seldom made anything of a reply; so the cooper generally dropped hisleg, and marched off, with the air of a man who despised sayinganything further.
CHAPTER XVI.
WE ENCOUNTER A GALE
THE mild blue weather we enjoyed after leaving the Marquesas graduallychanged as we ran farther south and approached Tahiti. In thesegenerally tr
anquil seas, the wind sometimes blows with greatviolence; though, as every sailor knows, a spicy gale in the tropiclatitudes of the Pacific is far different from a tempest in thehowling North Atlantic. We soon found ourselves battling with thewaves, while the before mild Trades, like a woman roused, blewfiercely, but still warmly, in our face.
For all this, the mate carried sail without stint; and as for bravelittle Jule, she stood up to it well; and though once in a whilefloored in the trough of a sea, sprang to her keel again and showedplay. Every old timber groaned--every spar buckled--every chafed cordstrained; and yet, spite of all, she plunged on her way like a racer.Jermin, sea-jockey that he was, sometimes stood in the fore-chains,with the spray every now and then dashing over him, and shouting out,"Well done, Jule--dive into it, sweetheart. Hurrah!"
One afternoon there was a mighty queer noise aloft, which set the menrunning in every direction. It was the main-t'-gallant-mast. Crash!it broke off just above the cap, and held there by the rigging,dashed with every roll from side to side, with all the hamper thatbelonged to it. The yard hung by a hair, and at every pitch, thumpedagainst the cross-trees; while the sail streamed in ribbons, and theloose ropes coiled, and thrashed the air, like whip-lashes. "Standfrom under!" and down came the rattling blocks, like so many shot.The yard, with a snap and a plunge, went hissing into the sea,disappeared, and shot its full length out again. The crest of a greatwave then broke over it--the ship rushed by--and we saw the stick nomore.
While this lively breeze continued, Baltimore, our old black cook, wasin great tribulation.
Like most South Seamen, the Julia's "caboose," or cook-house, wasplanted on the larboard side of the forecastle. Under such a press ofcanvas, and with the heavy sea running the barque, diving her bowsunder, now and then shipped green glassy waves, which, breaking overthe head-rails, fairly deluged that part of the ship, and washedclean aft. The caboose-house--thought to be fairly lashed down to itsplace--served as a sort of breakwater to the inundation.
About these times, Baltimore always wore what he called his "galesuit," among other things comprising a Sou'-wester and a huge pair ofwell-anointed sea-boots, reaching almost to his knees. Thus equippedfor a ducking or a drowning, as the case might be, our culinaryhigh-priest drew to the slides of his temple, and performed his sootyrites in secret.
So afraid was the old man of being washed overboard that he actuallyfastened one end of a small line to his waistbands, and coiling therest about him, made use of it as occasion required. When engagedoutside, he unwound the cord, and secured one end to a ringbolt inthe deck; so that if a chance sea washed him off his feet, it coulddo nothing more.
One evening just as he was getting supper, the Julia reared up on herstern like a vicious colt, and when she settled again forward, fairlydished a tremendous sea. Nothing could withstand it. One side of therotten head-bulwarks came in with a crash; it smote the caboose, toreit from its moorings, and after boxing it about, dashed it againstthe windlass, where it stranded. The water then poured along the decklike a flood rolling over and over, pots, pans, and kettles, and evenold Baltimore himself, who went breaching along like a porpoise.
Striking the taffrail, the wave subsided, and washing from side toside, left the drowning cook high and dry on the after-hatch: hisextinguished pipe still between his teeth, and almost bitten in two.
The few men on deck having sprung into the main-rigging, sailor-like,did nothing but roar at his calamity.
The same night, our flying-jib-boom snapped off like a pipe-stem, andour spanker-gaff came down by the run.
By the following morning, the wind in a great measure had gone down;the sea with it; and by noon we had repaired our damages as well aswe could, and were sailing along as pleasantly as ever.
But there was no help for the demolished bulwarks; we had nothing toreplace them; and so, whenever it breezed again, our dauntless craftwent along with her splintered prow dripping, but kicking up herfleet heels just as high as before.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CORAL ISLANDS
HOW far we sailed to the westward after leaving the Marquesas, or whatmight have been our latitude and longitude at any particular time, orhow many leagues we voyaged on our passage to Tahiti, are mattersabout which, I am sorry to say, I cannot with any accuracy enlightenthe reader. Jermin, as navigator, kept our reckoning; and, as hintedbefore, kept it all to himself. At noon, he brought out his quadrant,a rusty old thing, so odd-looking that it might have belonged to anastrologer.
Sometimes, when rather flustered from his potations, he wentstaggering about deck, instrument to eye, looking all over for thesun--a phenomenon which any sober observer might have seen rightoverhead. How upon earth he contrived, on some occasions, to settlehis latitude, is more than I can tell. The longitude he must eitherhave obtained by the Rule of Three, or else by special revelation. Notthat the chronometer in the cabin was seldom to be relied on, or wasany ways fidgety; quite the contrary; it stood stock-still; and bythat means, no doubt, the true Greenwich time--at the period ofstopping, at least--was preserved to a second.
The mate, however, in addition to his "Dead Reckoning," pretended toascertain his meridian distance from Bow Bells by an occasional lunarobservation. This, I believe, consists in obtaining with the properinstruments the angular distance between the moon and some one of thestars. The operation generally requires two observers to take sights,and at one and the same time.
Now, though the mate alone might have been thought well calculated forthis, inasmuch as he generally saw things double, the doctor wasusually called upon to play a sort of second quadrant to Jermin'sfirst; and what with the capers of both, they used to furnish a gooddeal of diversion. The mate's tremulous attempts to level hisinstrument at the star he was after, were comical enough. For my ownpart, when he did catch sight of it, I hardly knew how he managed toseparate it from the astral host revolving in his own brain.
However, by hook or by crook, he piloted us along; and before manydays, a fellow sent aloft to darn a rent in the fore-top-sail, threwhis hat into the air, and bawled out "Land, ho!"
Land it was; but in what part of the South Seas, Jermin alone knew,and some doubted whether even he did. But no sooner was theannouncement made, than he came running on deck, spy-glass in hand,and clapping it to his eye, turned round with the air of a manreceiving indubitable assurance of something he was quite certain ofbefore. The land was precisely that for which he had been steering;and, with a wind, in less than twenty-four hours we would sightTahiti. What he said was verified.
The island turned out to be one of the Pomotu or Low Group--sometimescalled the Coral Islands--perhaps the most remarkable and interestingin the Pacific. Lying to the east of Tahiti, the nearest are within aday's sail of that place.
They are very numerous; mostly small, low, and level; sometimeswooded, but always covered with verdure. Many are crescent-shaped;others resemble a horse-shoe in figure. These last are nothing morethan narrow circles of land surrounding a smooth lagoon, connected bya single opening with the sea. Some of the lagoons, said to havesubterranean outlets, have no visible ones; the inclosing island, insuch cases, being a complete zone of emerald. Other lagoons still,are girdled by numbers of small, green islets, very near to eachother.
The origin of the entire group is generally ascribed to the coralinsect.
According to some naturalists, this wonderful little creature,commencing its erections at the bottom of the sea, after the lapse ofcenturies, carries them up to the surface, where its labours cease.Here, the inequalities of the coral collect all floating bodies;forming, after a time, a soil, in which the seeds carried thither bybirds germinate, and cover the whole with vegetation. Here and there,all over this archipelago, numberless naked, detached coralformations are seen, just emerging, as it were from the ocean. Thesewould appear to be islands in the very process of creation--at anyrate, one involuntarily concludes so, on beholding them.
As far as I know, there are but few bread-fruit trees in any pa
rt ofthe Pomotu group. In many places the cocoa-nut even does not grow;though, in others, it largely flourishes. Consequently, some of theislands are altogether uninhabited; others support but a singlefamily; and in no place is the population very large. In somerespects the natives resemble the Tahitians: their language, too, isvery similar. The people of the southeasterly clusters--concerningwhom, however, but little is known--have a bad name as cannibals; andfor that reason their hospitality is seldom taxed by the mariner.
Within a few years past, missionaries from the Society group havesettled among the Leeward Islands, where the natives have treatedthem kindly. Indeed, nominally, many of these people are nowChristians; and, through the political influence of theirinstructors, no doubt, a short time since came tinder the allegianceof Pomaree, the Queen of Tahiti; with which island they alwayscarried on considerable intercourse.
The Coral Islands are principally visited by the pearl-shellfishermen, who arrive in small schooners, carrying not more than fiveor six men.
For a long while the business was engrossed by Merenhout, the FrenchConsul at Tahiti, but a Dutchman by birth, who, in one year, is saidto have sent to France fifty thousand dollars' worth of shells. Theoysters are found in the lagoons, and about the reefs; and, forhalf-a-dozen nails a day, or a compensation still less, the nativesare hired to dive after them.
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