Author Unknown
A SALT YARN
One afternoon watch, two seamen were seated face to face astride the fore-topmast cross-trees of a large Australian homeward-bound, which had all her canvas, studding-sails included, spread to the south-east trade wind that slants upward from the Cape towards the equator. The breeze was freshening, and the sails which, about noon, were murmuring and rustling, now slept full; everything drew, as the wind had been hauled a little on the ship's starboard quarter; her head lying about west-by-north, and she going about eight knots through the water; just bending now and then enough to give the lee yardarms a pleasant slope to port, and over the blue surface, which already looked darker and brisker, with little tops of white in our shadow to windward. With the privilege of a watch below, I was lying over the topsail-yard, in the bunt by the mast, my feet upon the foot-rope, and a spyglass in my hand, through which I took an occasional glance at a vessel on the horizon, supposed to be a frigate. It was so hot and close in my berth on the half-deck, that this employment was no small luxury, joined to that of seeing others kept at work, feeling the air out of the foot of the top-gallantsail, and looking down into the water, where the shape of every fish that came near the surface was clearly defined in a greenish light, and the convoys of glittering flying fish sprang ever and anon like swallows from one wave to another in the distance. The white ducks stretched below, with the boys knotting their yarns on the forecastle, the sailmaker at his canvas in the waist, and the quarterdeck out of sight, where the first and second mates were busy getting the mizen backstays set up. Before me lay half the ocean circle, beautifully azure-tinted, where a long line of white clouds were gathered, in contrast to the clear region of the breeze astern. Up above my head shot the white swell of top-gallant, royal, and sky-sails, the former of which half concealed me from the two sailors, although their legs dangled from the cross trees over my back, while its shadow secured them from the hot sun. One was passing the ball of spun-yarn for his companion, who was twisting it with his sewing-mallet round the shrouds of the royal-mast, which had been pretty well chafed bare by seven months' work and weather. The easy conversation with which this task was beguiled, found a ready eavesdropper in me, since it smacked of the brine, and was in no respect checked by the neighborhood of a youngster from the other watch. In the present case it fell insensibly to a yarn, which I took care to log as correctly as possible soon after: a yarn in the day time only happening in such a sequestered situation as this, and being more valuable from its unpremeditated nature.
'Hold in there with the ball, Bob,' said the one parenthetically, and at intervals; 'and give us a dip of the tar. Now pass away, and take the turn out o' that yarn. 'Well ye see, boy,' he continued, 'Jim Taylor an' me—you know Jim!— that voy'ge we'd been having a good cruise ashore after the South Sea trip, and the shot-lockers was beginnin' to turn rather low; but still, as we'd seen so much together, we made it up to go chums for another spell. I'd two or three offers of a berth myself, but short trips wouldn't go down with me at no time, after I knocked off apprentice; there's somethin' low an' humbuggin' about 'em, to my state, as keeps a man neither green or blue, neither seein' life nor the world, an' tarnally ready to get sick over a yard; so I've managed to keep a midship helm atwixt the two tacks of a coaster and a man-o'-war's-man. Jim, too, he was rather down in the mouth about a love consarn, so we stuck together like a pair o' purchase-blocks bowsed chock on end. Every forenoon we stands round Liv'pool Docks in company, under easy sail, twigging all the craft, as you may suppose, an' overhaulin' the good and bad points on 'em, like a couple of bo'suns. Berths at that time was plenty, and hands scare; so was the more hard to please Jim an' I. We wanted to see some'ere as we hadn't seen afore, with a smart craft under us, a reg'lar true-blue for skipper, good living, and a fok'sle full of jolly dogs. We spells out all the tickets in the rigging of the passage-craft, with the port, and time of sailing; and says Jim, just as I was stepping on the gangway plank, "Hold on, Harry, bo', let's go round the China berth first." And, says I, at sight o' their heavy poops, an' Dutch bows, and tumble home topsides, all reg'lar-going and holy-stone, "None o' yer loo'ardly tea-canister affairs for me. Don't ye twig that there lubberly splice in the forerigging?" Again we'd fancy Badoes, or Lima, or Rio, or Valparaiso; but speakin' truth, my notion was for some sort of out-o'-the-way-come-venture or another, where we'd see life once in a while, and turn to again on the sober tack. So all said an' done, we fought shy of an offer; as the "old man" hauled close on us, we squared away, tops our boom, an' was off with a touch of our tarpaulins, an' "I doesn't think as how I'm a goin' for to ship this voy'age, yer honour," for which we got curses enough to split the main-taups'l, ye know.
'Hows'ever, one forenoon watch, as we was both backing and filling alongside of the Queen's Dock, full of bluff-bowed Danish timberers, Norway logs the colour of rosin, and yer wall-sided, kettle-bottomed American cotton-wagons, I seed as fine a barque-rigged craft as I ever clapped eyes upon moored out in the middle to a Swedish brig. She was clipper-cut about the bows; level bowsprit in a line with her run; a long sheer, but plenty of beam before the waist; high topsides, black out, but painted yellow within, and a yellow streak on her. Her sticks had a bit of a rake aft, with short lower-masts, and the yards black; but such a pair o' slapping tall topmasts as she had, I never see in a craft of her size, an' I could see with half an eye, though both lower an' taups'l yards was cock-billed up an' down dock-fashion, they'd the weather-arm of any ship in the dock. "That chap's Boston-built, Jim," says I, "for five guineas —reg'lar go-ahead, and no mistake. Why, she'll spread near half the cloths in her main taups'l of a twenty eight sloop o'-war!" "My eyes!" says Jim, with a shiver like, "how she'd dive into a head sea though! She'd cut through the comb of a Cape swell afore it 'ad time to rise." "That's neither here nor there," I says; "but I'd like to know the ropes o' what she's after; I've a notion it'e some'at of a taut bowline. She wants a third of bein' down to her bearings, though they go
'Hold in there with the ball, Bob,' said the one parenthetically, and at intervals; 'and give us a dip of the tar. Now pass away, and take the turn out o' that yarn. 'Well ye see, boy,' he continued, 'Jim Taylor an' me—you know Jim!— that voy'ge we'd been having a good cruise ashore after the South Sea trip, and the shot-lockers was beginnin' to turn rather low; but still, as we'd seen so much together, we made it up to go chums for another spell. I'd two or three offers of a berth myself, but short trips wouldn't go down with me at no time, after I knocked off apprentice; there's somethin' low an' humbuggin' about 'em, to my state, as keeps a man neither green or blue, neither seein' life nor the world, an' tarnally ready to get sick over a yard; so I've managed to keep a midship helm atwixt the two tacks of a coaster and a man-o'-war's-man. Jim, too, he was rather down in the mouth about a love consarn, so we stuck together like a pair o' purchase-blocks bowsed chock on end. Every forenoon we stands round Liv'pool Docks in company, under easy sail, twigging all the craft, as you may suppose, an' overhaulin' the good and bad points on 'em, like a couple of bo'suns. Berths at that time was plenty, and hands scare; so was the more hard to please Jim an' I. We wanted to see some'ere as we hadn't seen afore, with a smart craft under us, a reg'lar true-blue for skipper, good living, and a fok'sle full of jolly dogs. We spells out all the tickets in the rigging of the passage-craft, with the port, and time of sailing; and says Jim, just as I was stepping on the gangway plank, "Hold on, Harry, bo', let's go round the China berth first." And, says I, at sight o' their heavy poops, an' Dutch bows, and tumble home topsides, all reg'lar-going and holy-stone, "None o' yer loo'ardly tea-canister affairs for me. Don't ye twig that there lubberly splice in the forerigging?" Again we'd fancy Badoes, or Lima, or Rio, or Valparaiso; but speakin' truth, my notion was for some sort of out-o'-the-way-come-venture or another, where we'd see life once in a while, and turn to again on the sober tack. So all said an' done, we fought shy of an offer; as the "old man" hauled close on us, we squared away, tops our boom, an' was off with a touch of our tarpaulins, an' "I doesn't think as how I'm a goin' for to ship this voy'age, yer honour," for which we got curses enough to split the main-taups'l, ye know.
'Hows'ever, one forenoon watch, as we was both backing and filling alongside of the Queen's Dock, full of bluff-bowed Danish timberers, Norway logs the colour of rosin, and yer wall-sided, kettle-bottomed American cotton-wagons, I seed as fine a barque-rigged craft as I ever clapped eyes upon moored out in the middle to a Swedish brig. She was clipper-cut about the bows; level bowsprit in a line with her run; a long sheer, but plenty of beam before the waist; high topsides, black out, but painted yellow within, and a yellow streak on her. Her sticks had a bit of a rake aft, with short lower-masts, and the yards black; but such a pair o' slapping tall topmasts as she had, I never see in a craft of her size, an' I could see with half an eye, though both lower an' taups'l yards was cock-billed up an' down dock-fashion, they'd the weather-arm of any ship in the dock. "That chap's Boston-built, Jim," says I, "for five guineas —reg'lar go-ahead, and no mistake. Why, she'll spread near half the cloths in her main taups'l of a twenty eight sloop o'-war!" "My eyes!" says Jim, with a shiver like, "how she'd dive into a head sea though! She'd cut through the comb of a Cape swell afore it 'ad time to rise." "That's neither here nor there," I says; "but I'd like to know the ropes o' what she's after; I've a notion it'e some'at of a taut bowline. She wants a third of bein' down to her bearings, though they go
clearing for out a'ready, ye see." Accordin'ly, Jim an' me uses the freedom to sheer round, and step over two or three other craft, to get a near look at the Yankee. Her mate was roaring like a young bull to a handalof that was sendin' up to'-gallant and royal-yards; and "Well," says I to Jim, 'it's clear they doesn't savvey sendin' up a gallant yard here, like they did in the old Pacific. Twig the lubber; he's taken the line wrong side o' that backstay. So look out; here goes!" I makes one spring into her rigging, up to the fore top, bears off the yard, fists the tackle, and clears it, and had the spar rigged out in no time. Down I comed to the rail by a topmast backstay, but no sooner nor the ill-looked customer of a mate opened on me with his jaw.
"Who told you to shove your oar in?" says he, "you tarnation British 'loper! I guess you want to book yourself pretty slick; but you don't enter this voy'ge, so be off!" "Axes your parding, sir," says I, winking to my chum; "an' hopes no offence, sir; but I thou't ye wanted a lift that time. You doesn't begrudge a poor fellow's flippers a little tar, sir, after fisting the blankets so long ashore?" "Top yer boom in the twinkling of a handspike," says he; "that's all I've got to say to ye." "Ay, ay, sir," says I, though I hung in the wind notwithstanding; for just then I twigs a big beamed fellow come aboard astarn of him, as I took to be the skipper —a hook-nose gentleman, clean-shaved, an' black i' the jaw, with two fists like leading blocks, and rigged out in a long-togged coat three cloths under his size; but he didn't look afeared on a gale o' wind.
"Well, Mr. Fisher," says he, overhaulin' me all the time out of his weather eye, "be so good as get them two new taups'ls out o' the half deck, and bend them. You don't seem but a smartish hand," says he to me when the mate was gone aft—"you don't my lad, for British growed. Been 'down east,' I reckon, now?" "Yes, sir," said I; "I sailed out with the Garrick liner, out an' home." "Thought so," says he. "Well, now, if I was short handed, I don't know but I might a shipped you this trip." "No harm done, sir," says I.
'Well, ye see, Bob, the short yarn of it was, the Yankee skipper ships us both at eighteen dollars a month, bound to Noo Orlaing, with a cargo of what they called "notions." The barque's name was the "Declaration," Eikabode Tappan, master; we didn't know till after she'd only eight of a crew before the mast when we fell aboard of him. Fact, we heard from an old shipmate next day, as Ike Tappan, they called him, very well known in the Gibraltar waters for a sharp hand, that knew precious little of lunars, an' never was heard on with a full-manned ship; she was 'tarnally runnin' away with 'em, and missing her port, like one of "God's ships," as they used to christen the Yankees. Never an underwriter of 'em all would insure the Declaration; but bein' one o' the owners himself, an' always somehow fallin' on his feet, no man overhauled the craft. "She's a slap-up boat," says Jim to me; "an' he's a prime seaman, I onderstand; but I'll bet next voy'age, Ike Tappan's arter some'at new, an' spicy to the bargain. I never knowed her Liverpool-away a-fore."
'Well, Bob, a night or two after, as we was going into the Hothouse Tavern, as they calls that big skylight affair by the docks, who does we meet comin' out but our new skipper, yard-arm with a long-togged shore-goin' chap, as I fancied, under a false rig, and steerin' shy. Hard-a-port it was, and we sights the two down street, bein' a blowy night, making stiff tack for the door of a Jew slop-shop to wind'ard. "Somethin's i' the wind, Jim," says I, "sure enough." The next day we goes down to hoist our dunnage abroad, where we finds no un but the shipkeeper, and a Boston boy washin' decks, ontil the skipper him'self come up the companion, with one we took for a new hand, in a red shirt, canvas togs, and a sou'-wester on his head for all the world like a Lunnun dustman's. "My eye, Harry," says Jim, "twig the green; mark them hands o' his. That fellow's sarved his time with ould Noah, I'm thinking, an' slept the watches ever since." "Well, I'm blessed," says I, "if that aint the same chap he had in tow last night, an' rigged out a cloth over strong to begin with."
"Now, my man," says the skipper to him, "tarn to aloft, and tar down them hfs an' backstays." "Ay, ay, sir," says he, quite ready like, though I wish you see what a long face he pulled at first dip into the tar can. A smart, knowing-like chap he was, though he put his feet into the ratlins like a post-boy, an' went up a bit at a time, smearin' all in his way, instead of from the mast-head down, till of a sudden smash comes the can on deck out o' the maintop, without, "Stand from under." The whole forenoon I do b'lieve, if the skipper didn't keep that poor devil going aloft, out on the yards, an' gettin' the ropes by heart, in a drizzle of rain, and after every one else was gone. I couldn't make it out at all, ontil we hears the day after, just afore haulin' through the dockway at flood, as how there was a reg'lar bobbery kickin' up about docks: a dozen outbound craft boarded by p'lice and gov'ment officers, all about some quill-driving don that had cut his stick with a sight o' money. As soon as I caught the hand in the red shirt lookin' over his shoulder, I smoked the rig in a moment, an' says the skipper, "You, Smith, up to the fore-taups'l yard, an' overhaul the gear." There was only Jim an' me, and the two mates, an' some dock-wallopers on deck, hard tailing of to the warp-ropes, an' a couple o' ships boys aloft; the other hands came out in a boat as we dropped down. Just as we sheers round into the river, there was a large New York steamer, paddles backed and 'scape-pipe roaring, and full passengers, as was being searched from stem to starn, where they found the gentleman's traps aboard sure enough, without hi'self. Nor no sooner was we abeam of her, but a boat pulls alongside, and three officers jumps up the gangway.
"Got any passengers aboard, captain?" says they. "Not as long as my name's Eikabode Tappan," says he; "'taint a payin' consarn, I expect." "Look sharp aloft there, and loose that fore-taups'l," sings out the skipper; and I couldn't help grinning when I squaints up, an' sees the chap with the red shirt bent over the yard, after havin' to hail, "Ay, ay, sir," as gruff as a bo'sun. "Bear a hand there, ye lubber; overhaul the reef-tackles and cluelins—d'ye hear? Forrud there, sheet home fore-taups'l." "Must look into your cabins, sir," says the officers. "Well, if it's law," says the skipper, "I can't go ag'in it; but a fair wind can't wait, you know, gents," says he, "an' I shouldn't like to break my rule ag'in passengers. I reckon we're gettin' a good deal o' way upon her." By the time they comed on deck again, we had the two taups'ls, fores'l, and spanker set up-on her, and I was at the wheel, the hands aboard rigging out the jib-boom; and, "Well," thinks I, as they got down the side to pull back, "if it had been but a a frigate's reefer instead, he'd have hauled on a different rope, Captain Tappan." Hows'ever, we soon caught a good sand; and by the way the windmills along the heights went whirling round, we expected a staggering breeze past the Point. How she did take it, too, on them wo whipping taups'ls o' hers, the moment she got the full weather, blue out o' the Irish Channel, with a smart swell? Hard work it was grinding her wheel down; but she came to in a twinkling, ready to fly into it. I saw how it 'ud be at wonst; with that spread of canvas, and them heavy spars, with the hands we had, in a gale and on a wind, we'd no more be able to reef or hand the two taups'ls or courses nor as many schoolboys. Hows'ever, we was scare well out from the land, when somethin' more came on our lookout: surging over it with a flash up the bows, all hands busy gettin' ship-shape, I hears the skipper sing out to his black stoo'ard below, to hand him up the glass. There was telegraph goin' upon the head-land, which the drift on it couldn't be seen, until the smoke of a large steamer was sighted to win'ward, through the haze, headin' for us from up Channel.
"Well," says the old man, "what's this? I ain't"—"She's double-funnled," puts in the grumpy mate, lookin' through the glass—"a steam-frigate, I calc'late." "No!" says the captain; "you don't —whew—ew!" And he gives a long whistle, seein' as just at that moment comes out a gleam behind one o' the big Channel swells, then the sound of a heavy gun. "That's a long un," says the mate. "Clap on the jib, there," sings out Captain Tappan. "Set the gaff-taups' and royals, Mr. Fisher," says he; "and keep her up a point, lad," to me. Away we cracks, with the craft on her best foot, bolling off eleven knots pleasantly. We had the heels of the steamer; but if that wasn't enough, what does we see her do shortly, but stand across the New Yorker's course, to overhaul her the second turn. By the second dog-watch, it bein' late season and soon dark, we'd lost sight of 'em both. Our Yankee skipper's fashion was to close-reef all afore turning in, man-o'-war style, if the weather was fickle in narrow waters, otherways there was no keeping the craft in hand; it took all on us to one yard at a turn, so yo may fancy what it would a' been in a blow! All the next day, having stood well to the east'ard, we sees nought o' the smoke flag, "Admiral Jones's pennant," as we used to call it in the old Pacific; so cracks on everything that would draw till morning when it fell a pretty dead calm, with a swell off the mouth of the British Channel. About four bells i' the arternoon we sees our queer customer from the fok'sle come 'pon deck out o' the cabin, in a pilot-coat; all at onst the fellow hails the skipper through the skylight, and there, sure enough, was a smoke to west'ard of us, just over the smooth o' the water-line, when we rolled. By five bells you could see the two funnels quite plain, the steamer seemin'ly havin' cruized the two days to win'ward of our course, for an airin' to her hands; an' then come back to pick us up. The captain looks at his chap and then at the steamer. "Yes," says he, taking the cigar out of his teeth, "that's considerable nasty, I expect!" An' I did feel for the other fellow from his looks. "Well," says the skipper, "there's a cloud brewin' to win'ward though. We'll have it hot an' heavy from the nor'west directly. Lay aloft there, all hands, to reef taups'ls!" And he takes the wheel from the hand aft. "Close reef," he sings out, as soon as we'd got hold on the earrings. The yards was braced round, and the swell rose in no time; the cloud was all round the weather-side in a quarter of an hour, as black-blue as you please, and the red sun goin' down through it, till the tops of the heavy swells was as red as blood. It was quite dark in that quarter, when we hears the thud, thud o' the steamer's paddles, and her engine clanking, and over out o' the cloud she comes as black as night, right upon the comb of the sea; and all in a moment it was white foam, pouring down the watersides and her full jib and gaffs'ls jibing as she went round. Up we went above her, looking on to her deck over the smoke; the men at stations, and a gun ran out to loo'ard. 'Port, port,' sings out our skipper, 'keep full.' The steamer's pipe roared like thunder, and she kept givin' a stroke now and then; the captain and a leeftenant stood up on the poddle-box, holding on by a rail.
"What barque's that?" screams out the captain through his speaking trumpet; and afore there was to hail—"Round to, and keep under my quarter till the squalls over—her Majesty's ship Salamander." "Daresn't do it, captain," sings out the skipper. "I'll dismast you then, by —!" The wind took us just then on the top of a sea, main-taups'l swung full, and away we went, with no time to rise on the swell, shipping a tremendous horsehead, that washed everyone off his feet holding on. Our last sight of the steam frigate, she was plunging off one green comber to another, half her length, out against the light, and her weather-flipper whirling around, feeling for the water, an' the next minute buried up to the grating in a foam. She'd her wrong side to us, or I don't doubt she'd had let drive off the top of the wave with that infarnal long eighteen.
'When the Declaration rose again, however, it was pitch dark; nothin' to be seen but the foam gleaming, and a white line 'twixt sky and sea to win'ward, or the binnacle lamp in-board. It took two of us at the wheel, hard up an' hard down, to hold her; runnin' as straight suth'ard as might be, under nothin' 'but spanker close taups'ls, and foretopmast stays'l; wind blowing strong abeam, and a blast o' rain. About three bells morning watch the weather cleared a little, with a break to starnward. All of a sudden the lookout on the foreyard hails out, "Light, ho! two lights hard on the lee-bow." And the captain goes aloft to overhaul them. Down he comes—"Cape Youshant right ahead, Mr. Fisher," says he; "we'll never weather it under this canvas, an' we can't go about neither. Up there! shake out reefs! swig up taups'l-halyards!" says he. And up goes the high cloth against the scud to loo'ard, till we made out the two lights from the wheel, drawing end on low down betwixt the swells as she pitched aloft. "Split them two lights," says he to the wheel, "or we're ashore in an hour. Press her well up, my lads," says he, "loose away the mains'l there." "She'll never bear it," says the mate. "Don't know the Declaration yet, Mr. Fisher, I guess," says he. "Board maintack there, ride him down with a will, men. Haul aft the sheet." Well how she pitched, an' drove right under, shippin' green seas over the weather chains! She hove a fellow over the wheel without, 'By your leave;' an' the maintack surged like a capstan-fall, every strand with a purchase on it. "It's blowing harder," says the mate. "Half an hour, and we're off," says the skipper. But sure enough, by that time we was reeling through—down head and up again, like a Dutchman's cow—first a howl through the rigging, and then a a calm in the trough, things lookin' black for the mast of her. "Ease off the main-tack," sings out the skipper; "an' stand by to brail up and frail." Ticklish work it was to do as much as the first; but hand the sail we couldn't, with the captain and his passenger at the wheel to free all hands; so out in the brails we let it blow, like a fisherman's bladders, and got up to reef taups'ls coaster-fashion. As soon as the halyards was let go, cluelins an' reef-tackles chock up, the sail drove into the lee-rigging, jammed through the shrouds, every square a bag o'wind; ship careening right down to loo'ard; the yard like to slide us off, if it didn't shake us; an' not a hand on deck to touch a rope. We couldn't compass it nohow; an' the mate sings out to the wheel to luff a little, and shake the sail. "Furl it!" roars out the captain, giving her a weather spoke or two; an' sartingly we did get up the head-leeches of the sail, and the gaskets passed round one yardarm when up slap comes the foot of it in the blast, with a noise like thunder, hammering our heads. an' blindin' us till the whole was free again. Not having her jib neither, she was just broaching to with that bit of a luff, when the fo'tops'l saved her, snap went the martingale-stay as it was, and she carried away her jib-boom in the first pitch. The skipper filled away in a moment, grinding the helm hard, and singing out to us to leave the sail, an sheet it half home again; so off she stood, squaring yards before the wind, easying off sheets, flying over it with at roll. We couldn't take another stitch off her, an' if ever I seed a craft running away with her masters that was it. Hows'ever, the morning was broke, and straight down the Bay of Biscay for the two mortal watches we goes, before the stiffest nor'-caster I remembers, without lying to. She made easier weather, the skipper al'ays said, on a drive as with the helm lashed. At night I didn't like the looks of it no-way; the sea was gettin' tremendous; the wind pinned ye to the rigging; and as cowld as a man could stand, though 'twas as dry as oakum; 'cept for the spray.
"Them sticks won't stand it, cap'en," says the mate, lookin' aloft like a stargazer, an' as gloomy as the bowsprit end. "You don't know them sticks, Mr. Fisher," says the skipper. "I may say I raised'em and smoked 'em myself. They're as tough as whalebone. They'll stand it, if the cloth don't." "True enough, sir," says the mate, an' a little after, just as she rose out of a lull, away doesn't the fo'taups'l go, with such a crack, out o' the belt rope clean away to loo'ard, like a puff of smoke. "Set the mainstays'l," sings out the skipper, "and keep her up a bit, my lad."
'I thinks I sees that passenger-fellow's face by the mizen-rigging, as he held on like death, and the barque hung over the black surge, up an' down, like looking for her shadow in the troughs, and climbing the hill for fear on it, shipping the grim seas in her waist as he came up. Blessed if he didn't show the white rag that time! an' I thou't myself as he'd done somethin' bad. The men said he looked like a chap would have been glad of the gallows; and one swore his next trick at the helm to luff up into a sea, an' lend a hand to sweep clear of him. Hows'ever, by the mornin' watch our wind was laid a bit, an' we driving as bare as we could to sou'-west, maintaups'l-yard still half down to the cap, with the sail set. The craft took it better nor ever I seed a craft do with the same sea on; but the mate said we'd run three degrees out of our course. By eight bells noon, what does the captain do but call all hands aft, to say as she'd never lie her course, he was goin' to bear up and run due south, a three months' trip for Monte Video. "I expect," says he, "to make somethin' of it thereaway, an' a sight better market. So, my lads," says he, "if you'll ship, an' no words, why I'll make it two dollars ahead warmer by the month." Every one looks at his neighbour, and grins as he walks forrud, seein' as it was no use to growl, if we'd wanted. For one, I'd ha' been ready cheer ship. 'Mr. Fisher,' says the skipper, 'square away the yards, and swing up that maintaups'l-yard. Down maintack, too, I see the wind's moderatin' pretty fast. Full an' by, my man,' says he to the wheel; so away we cracked on her, with a starn sea running, for the Canaries.
'Long yarn, Bob, if I took you the rig our skipper played with the blockhead at Monte Video, an' them lubberly Brazil cruisers. All I've got to say now is, as it's hard on eight bells, my chum an' I heard, on getting to Liverp'l a couple of year after, as how that there chase of ours from the steam frigate warn't about the passenger at all, but a concern of our sharp sailin' skipper's, as only an Admiralty clerk could take the turns out on. I never knowed the rights on it; but I don't doubt he kept clear o' both the Channel and Boston for a good spell.'
'Well, mate,' said Bob, as he passed the ball for the last time, 'give us the other yarn in the first watch.'
Whether Harry did so or not, I, belonging to the larboard watch, had no opportunity of hearing it.
"Who told you to shove your oar in?" says he, "you tarnation British 'loper! I guess you want to book yourself pretty slick; but you don't enter this voy'ge, so be off!" "Axes your parding, sir," says I, winking to my chum; "an' hopes no offence, sir; but I thou't ye wanted a lift that time. You doesn't begrudge a poor fellow's flippers a little tar, sir, after fisting the blankets so long ashore?" "Top yer boom in the twinkling of a handspike," says he; "that's all I've got to say to ye." "Ay, ay, sir," says I, though I hung in the wind notwithstanding; for just then I twigs a big beamed fellow come aboard astarn of him, as I took to be the skipper —a hook-nose gentleman, clean-shaved, an' black i' the jaw, with two fists like leading blocks, and rigged out in a long-togged coat three cloths under his size; but he didn't look afeared on a gale o' wind.
"Well, Mr. Fisher," says he, overhaulin' me all the time out of his weather eye, "be so good as get them two new taups'ls out o' the half deck, and bend them. You don't seem but a smartish hand," says he to me when the mate was gone aft—"you don't my lad, for British growed. Been 'down east,' I reckon, now?" "Yes, sir," said I; "I sailed out with the Garrick liner, out an' home." "Thought so," says he. "Well, now, if I was short handed, I don't know but I might a shipped you this trip." "No harm done, sir," says I.
'Well, ye see, Bob, the short yarn of it was, the Yankee skipper ships us both at eighteen dollars a month, bound to Noo Orlaing, with a cargo of what they called "notions." The barque's name was the "Declaration," Eikabode Tappan, master; we didn't know till after she'd only eight of a crew before the mast when we fell aboard of him. Fact, we heard from an old shipmate next day, as Ike Tappan, they called him, very well known in the Gibraltar waters for a sharp hand, that knew precious little of lunars, an' never was heard on with a full-manned ship; she was 'tarnally runnin' away with 'em, and missing her port, like one of "God's ships," as they used to christen the Yankees. Never an underwriter of 'em all would insure the Declaration; but bein' one o' the owners himself, an' always somehow fallin' on his feet, no man overhauled the craft. "She's a slap-up boat," says Jim to me; "an' he's a prime seaman, I onderstand; but I'll bet next voy'age, Ike Tappan's arter some'at new, an' spicy to the bargain. I never knowed her Liverpool-away a-fore."
'Well, Bob, a night or two after, as we was going into the Hothouse Tavern, as they calls that big skylight affair by the docks, who does we meet comin' out but our new skipper, yard-arm with a long-togged shore-goin' chap, as I fancied, under a false rig, and steerin' shy. Hard-a-port it was, and we sights the two down street, bein' a blowy night, making stiff tack for the door of a Jew slop-shop to wind'ard. "Somethin's i' the wind, Jim," says I, "sure enough." The next day we goes down to hoist our dunnage abroad, where we finds no un but the shipkeeper, and a Boston boy washin' decks, ontil the skipper him'self come up the companion, with one we took for a new hand, in a red shirt, canvas togs, and a sou'-wester on his head for all the world like a Lunnun dustman's. "My eye, Harry," says Jim, "twig the green; mark them hands o' his. That fellow's sarved his time with ould Noah, I'm thinking, an' slept the watches ever since." "Well, I'm blessed," says I, "if that aint the same chap he had in tow last night, an' rigged out a cloth over strong to begin with."
"Now, my man," says the skipper to him, "tarn to aloft, and tar down them hfs an' backstays." "Ay, ay, sir," says he, quite ready like, though I wish you see what a long face he pulled at first dip into the tar can. A smart, knowing-like chap he was, though he put his feet into the ratlins like a post-boy, an' went up a bit at a time, smearin' all in his way, instead of from the mast-head down, till of a sudden smash comes the can on deck out o' the maintop, without, "Stand from under." The whole forenoon I do b'lieve, if the skipper didn't keep that poor devil going aloft, out on the yards, an' gettin' the ropes by heart, in a drizzle of rain, and after every one else was gone. I couldn't make it out at all, ontil we hears the day after, just afore haulin' through the dockway at flood, as how there was a reg'lar bobbery kickin' up about docks: a dozen outbound craft boarded by p'lice and gov'ment officers, all about some quill-driving don that had cut his stick with a sight o' money. As soon as I caught the hand in the red shirt lookin' over his shoulder, I smoked the rig in a moment, an' says the skipper, "You, Smith, up to the fore-taups'l yard, an' overhaul the gear." There was only Jim an' me, and the two mates, an' some dock-wallopers on deck, hard tailing of to the warp-ropes, an' a couple o' ships boys aloft; the other hands came out in a boat as we dropped down. Just as we sheers round into the river, there was a large New York steamer, paddles backed and 'scape-pipe roaring, and full passengers, as was being searched from stem to starn, where they found the gentleman's traps aboard sure enough, without hi'self. Nor no sooner was we abeam of her, but a boat pulls alongside, and three officers jumps up the gangway.
"Got any passengers aboard, captain?" says they. "Not as long as my name's Eikabode Tappan," says he; "'taint a payin' consarn, I expect." "Look sharp aloft there, and loose that fore-taups'l," sings out the skipper; and I couldn't help grinning when I squaints up, an' sees the chap with the red shirt bent over the yard, after havin' to hail, "Ay, ay, sir," as gruff as a bo'sun. "Bear a hand there, ye lubber; overhaul the reef-tackles and cluelins—d'ye hear? Forrud there, sheet home fore-taups'l." "Must look into your cabins, sir," says the officers. "Well, if it's law," says the skipper, "I can't go ag'in it; but a fair wind can't wait, you know, gents," says he, "an' I shouldn't like to break my rule ag'in passengers. I reckon we're gettin' a good deal o' way upon her." By the time they comed on deck again, we had the two taups'ls, fores'l, and spanker set up-on her, and I was at the wheel, the hands aboard rigging out the jib-boom; and, "Well," thinks I, as they got down the side to pull back, "if it had been but a a frigate's reefer instead, he'd have hauled on a different rope, Captain Tappan." Hows'ever, we soon caught a good sand; and by the way the windmills along the heights went whirling round, we expected a staggering breeze past the Point. How she did take it, too, on them wo whipping taups'ls o' hers, the moment she got the full weather, blue out o' the Irish Channel, with a smart swell? Hard work it was grinding her wheel down; but she came to in a twinkling, ready to fly into it. I saw how it 'ud be at wonst; with that spread of canvas, and them heavy spars, with the hands we had, in a gale and on a wind, we'd no more be able to reef or hand the two taups'ls or courses nor as many schoolboys. Hows'ever, we was scare well out from the land, when somethin' more came on our lookout: surging over it with a flash up the bows, all hands busy gettin' ship-shape, I hears the skipper sing out to his black stoo'ard below, to hand him up the glass. There was telegraph goin' upon the head-land, which the drift on it couldn't be seen, until the smoke of a large steamer was sighted to win'ward, through the haze, headin' for us from up Channel.
"Well," says the old man, "what's this? I ain't"—"She's double-funnled," puts in the grumpy mate, lookin' through the glass—"a steam-frigate, I calc'late." "No!" says the captain; "you don't —whew—ew!" And he gives a long whistle, seein' as just at that moment comes out a gleam behind one o' the big Channel swells, then the sound of a heavy gun. "That's a long un," says the mate. "Clap on the jib, there," sings out Captain Tappan. "Set the gaff-taups' and royals, Mr. Fisher," says he; "and keep her up a point, lad," to me. Away we cracks, with the craft on her best foot, bolling off eleven knots pleasantly. We had the heels of the steamer; but if that wasn't enough, what does we see her do shortly, but stand across the New Yorker's course, to overhaul her the second turn. By the second dog-watch, it bein' late season and soon dark, we'd lost sight of 'em both. Our Yankee skipper's fashion was to close-reef all afore turning in, man-o'-war style, if the weather was fickle in narrow waters, otherways there was no keeping the craft in hand; it took all on us to one yard at a turn, so yo may fancy what it would a' been in a blow! All the next day, having stood well to the east'ard, we sees nought o' the smoke flag, "Admiral Jones's pennant," as we used to call it in the old Pacific; so cracks on everything that would draw till morning when it fell a pretty dead calm, with a swell off the mouth of the British Channel. About four bells i' the arternoon we sees our queer customer from the fok'sle come 'pon deck out o' the cabin, in a pilot-coat; all at onst the fellow hails the skipper through the skylight, and there, sure enough, was a smoke to west'ard of us, just over the smooth o' the water-line, when we rolled. By five bells you could see the two funnels quite plain, the steamer seemin'ly havin' cruized the two days to win'ward of our course, for an airin' to her hands; an' then come back to pick us up. The captain looks at his chap and then at the steamer. "Yes," says he, taking the cigar out of his teeth, "that's considerable nasty, I expect!" An' I did feel for the other fellow from his looks. "Well," says the skipper, "there's a cloud brewin' to win'ward though. We'll have it hot an' heavy from the nor'west directly. Lay aloft there, all hands, to reef taups'ls!" And he takes the wheel from the hand aft. "Close reef," he sings out, as soon as we'd got hold on the earrings. The yards was braced round, and the swell rose in no time; the cloud was all round the weather-side in a quarter of an hour, as black-blue as you please, and the red sun goin' down through it, till the tops of the heavy swells was as red as blood. It was quite dark in that quarter, when we hears the thud, thud o' the steamer's paddles, and her engine clanking, and over out o' the cloud she comes as black as night, right upon the comb of the sea; and all in a moment it was white foam, pouring down the watersides and her full jib and gaffs'ls jibing as she went round. Up we went above her, looking on to her deck over the smoke; the men at stations, and a gun ran out to loo'ard. 'Port, port,' sings out our skipper, 'keep full.' The steamer's pipe roared like thunder, and she kept givin' a stroke now and then; the captain and a leeftenant stood up on the poddle-box, holding on by a rail.
"What barque's that?" screams out the captain through his speaking trumpet; and afore there was to hail—"Round to, and keep under my quarter till the squalls over—her Majesty's ship Salamander." "Daresn't do it, captain," sings out the skipper. "I'll dismast you then, by —!" The wind took us just then on the top of a sea, main-taups'l swung full, and away we went, with no time to rise on the swell, shipping a tremendous horsehead, that washed everyone off his feet holding on. Our last sight of the steam frigate, she was plunging off one green comber to another, half her length, out against the light, and her weather-flipper whirling around, feeling for the water, an' the next minute buried up to the grating in a foam. She'd her wrong side to us, or I don't doubt she'd had let drive off the top of the wave with that infarnal long eighteen.
'When the Declaration rose again, however, it was pitch dark; nothin' to be seen but the foam gleaming, and a white line 'twixt sky and sea to win'ward, or the binnacle lamp in-board. It took two of us at the wheel, hard up an' hard down, to hold her; runnin' as straight suth'ard as might be, under nothin' 'but spanker close taups'ls, and foretopmast stays'l; wind blowing strong abeam, and a blast o' rain. About three bells morning watch the weather cleared a little, with a break to starnward. All of a sudden the lookout on the foreyard hails out, "Light, ho! two lights hard on the lee-bow." And the captain goes aloft to overhaul them. Down he comes—"Cape Youshant right ahead, Mr. Fisher," says he; "we'll never weather it under this canvas, an' we can't go about neither. Up there! shake out reefs! swig up taups'l-halyards!" says he. And up goes the high cloth against the scud to loo'ard, till we made out the two lights from the wheel, drawing end on low down betwixt the swells as she pitched aloft. "Split them two lights," says he to the wheel, "or we're ashore in an hour. Press her well up, my lads," says he, "loose away the mains'l there." "She'll never bear it," says the mate. "Don't know the Declaration yet, Mr. Fisher, I guess," says he. "Board maintack there, ride him down with a will, men. Haul aft the sheet." Well how she pitched, an' drove right under, shippin' green seas over the weather chains! She hove a fellow over the wheel without, 'By your leave;' an' the maintack surged like a capstan-fall, every strand with a purchase on it. "It's blowing harder," says the mate. "Half an hour, and we're off," says the skipper. But sure enough, by that time we was reeling through—down head and up again, like a Dutchman's cow—first a howl through the rigging, and then a a calm in the trough, things lookin' black for the mast of her. "Ease off the main-tack," sings out the skipper; "an' stand by to brail up and frail." Ticklish work it was to do as much as the first; but hand the sail we couldn't, with the captain and his passenger at the wheel to free all hands; so out in the brails we let it blow, like a fisherman's bladders, and got up to reef taups'ls coaster-fashion. As soon as the halyards was let go, cluelins an' reef-tackles chock up, the sail drove into the lee-rigging, jammed through the shrouds, every square a bag o'wind; ship careening right down to loo'ard; the yard like to slide us off, if it didn't shake us; an' not a hand on deck to touch a rope. We couldn't compass it nohow; an' the mate sings out to the wheel to luff a little, and shake the sail. "Furl it!" roars out the captain, giving her a weather spoke or two; an' sartingly we did get up the head-leeches of the sail, and the gaskets passed round one yardarm when up slap comes the foot of it in the blast, with a noise like thunder, hammering our heads. an' blindin' us till the whole was free again. Not having her jib neither, she was just broaching to with that bit of a luff, when the fo'tops'l saved her, snap went the martingale-stay as it was, and she carried away her jib-boom in the first pitch. The skipper filled away in a moment, grinding the helm hard, and singing out to us to leave the sail, an sheet it half home again; so off she stood, squaring yards before the wind, easying off sheets, flying over it with at roll. We couldn't take another stitch off her, an' if ever I seed a craft running away with her masters that was it. Hows'ever, the morning was broke, and straight down the Bay of Biscay for the two mortal watches we goes, before the stiffest nor'-caster I remembers, without lying to. She made easier weather, the skipper al'ays said, on a drive as with the helm lashed. At night I didn't like the looks of it no-way; the sea was gettin' tremendous; the wind pinned ye to the rigging; and as cowld as a man could stand, though 'twas as dry as oakum; 'cept for the spray.
"Them sticks won't stand it, cap'en," says the mate, lookin' aloft like a stargazer, an' as gloomy as the bowsprit end. "You don't know them sticks, Mr. Fisher," says the skipper. "I may say I raised'em and smoked 'em myself. They're as tough as whalebone. They'll stand it, if the cloth don't." "True enough, sir," says the mate, an' a little after, just as she rose out of a lull, away doesn't the fo'taups'l go, with such a crack, out o' the belt rope clean away to loo'ard, like a puff of smoke. "Set the mainstays'l," sings out the skipper, "and keep her up a bit, my lad."
'I thinks I sees that passenger-fellow's face by the mizen-rigging, as he held on like death, and the barque hung over the black surge, up an' down, like looking for her shadow in the troughs, and climbing the hill for fear on it, shipping the grim seas in her waist as he came up. Blessed if he didn't show the white rag that time! an' I thou't myself as he'd done somethin' bad. The men said he looked like a chap would have been glad of the gallows; and one swore his next trick at the helm to luff up into a sea, an' lend a hand to sweep clear of him. Hows'ever, by the mornin' watch our wind was laid a bit, an' we driving as bare as we could to sou'-west, maintaups'l-yard still half down to the cap, with the sail set. The craft took it better nor ever I seed a craft do with the same sea on; but the mate said we'd run three degrees out of our course. By eight bells noon, what does the captain do but call all hands aft, to say as she'd never lie her course, he was goin' to bear up and run due south, a three months' trip for Monte Video. "I expect," says he, "to make somethin' of it thereaway, an' a sight better market. So, my lads," says he, "if you'll ship, an' no words, why I'll make it two dollars ahead warmer by the month." Every one looks at his neighbour, and grins as he walks forrud, seein' as it was no use to growl, if we'd wanted. For one, I'd ha' been ready cheer ship. 'Mr. Fisher,' says the skipper, 'square away the yards, and swing up that maintaups'l-yard. Down maintack, too, I see the wind's moderatin' pretty fast. Full an' by, my man,' says he to the wheel; so away we cracked on her, with a starn sea running, for the Canaries.
'Long yarn, Bob, if I took you the rig our skipper played with the blockhead at Monte Video, an' them lubberly Brazil cruisers. All I've got to say now is, as it's hard on eight bells, my chum an' I heard, on getting to Liverp'l a couple of year after, as how that there chase of ours from the steam frigate warn't about the passenger at all, but a concern of our sharp sailin' skipper's, as only an Admiralty clerk could take the turns out on. I never knowed the rights on it; but I don't doubt he kept clear o' both the Channel and Boston for a good spell.'
'Well, mate,' said Bob, as he passed the ball for the last time, 'give us the other yarn in the first watch.'
Whether Harry did so or not, I, belonging to the larboard watch, had no opportunity of hearing it.
Warragul Guardian and Buln Buln and Narracan Shire Advocate, Thursday 17 March 1881, supplement page 2.
No comments:
Post a Comment