Chapter Five.
Captain Gillespie comes aboard.
“Oh!” I exclaimed at the same moment, drawing back hastily and tumbling over the boatswain, who with Adams was now busy hauling inboard the tackle of the disengaged cathead stopper. “I’m blinded!”
You see, I had been leaning over the bows, watching the operation of letting go the anchor; and, as the ponderous mass of metal plunged into the river, it sent up a column of spray on to the forecastle that came slap into my face, drenching my clothes and wetting me almost to the skin at the same time.
“Whisht, ma bouchal!” cried Tim Rooney, laughing at my sorry plight as I picked myself up. “One’d think ye’re kilt entoirely, wid all that row ye’r makin’! Ye’ll niver be a sailor, Misther Gray-ham, if ye can’t stand a bit av fun!”
“Fun, you call it?” I rejoined, rather angrily, I must confess, looking down ruefully at my soaking suit. “Why, I’m wet through!”
“Niver moind that,” replied he, still grinning, as was also Adams. “Sure, it’s ownly y’r say chris’nin’, though it’s pricious little av the say there is, be the same token, in this dirthy shoal wather alongside av us now.”
“But, it is salt for all that,” said I, having had an opportunity of tasting it’s flavour, my mouth being wide open when I got the ducking. “It is just like brine and even more nasty!”
Tim laughed all the more at the faces I made, as I spluttered and fumed, trying vainly to get rid of the taste; for, I had swallowed about half a pint at least of the stuff.
“It ain’t as good as Paydro’s tay that we had jist now, is it?” he observed consolingly. “Thare’s too many did dogs an’ cats an’ other poor bastesesses in it for that, me bhoy; but, faix, ye jist wait till we gits into blue wather an’ out av soundin’s, it’ll be a real trayte for ye to taste it thin.”
“I don’t know about that,” I answered, getting over my little bit of temper and laughing too, he gave such a knowing wink and looked so comical—as I daresay I did, with all the shine taken out of my new uniform—“I think I’ve had quite enough of it already.”
I do not believe I could forget anything, however trivial, that occurred that day, every incident connected with the ship and its surroundings being stamped indelibly on my mind.
The bright February afternoon was already drawing to a close, the sun having set, as usual at that time of year, about half-past five o’clock, going down just as we were in all the bustle of “bringing up;” and, as the Silver Queen had swung with the tide after anchoring, her head now pointing up stream, looking back as it were on the course she had gone over, I had an uninterrupted view from where I stood on the forecastle of the western horizon, with the hazy city still apparent between. I noticed how the warm crimson and orange tints of the after-glow changed gradually to the more sober tones of purple and madder and pale sea-green, marking the approach of evening, a soft semi-transparent mist the while rising from the surface of the water and blotting out one by one the distant objects. It was still light enough, however, to see everything all round near where we were lying, we being then just off the Lobster, midway in the stream, which at that point is about a mile wide, with Gravesend on our left or “port” hand, and the frowning fort of Tilbury guarding the entrance to the river on our right.
All seemed very quiet, as if old Father Thames and those who went to and fro on his broad bosom were thinking of going to sleep; and thus, the shades of night slowly descended on the scene, hushing the spirit of the waters to rest, the ebbing tide lapping its lullaby.
Two other vessels, large merchantmen both, were moored close to ours, and a tug far-away down the stream astern was toiling up wearily against the current with a long string of heavily-laden coal barges in tow, and making but poor headway judging from the long time she took to get abreast of us; while our own gallant little Arrow, which had pulled us along so merrily to our anchorage, was lying-to, about a cable’s length off, waiting to see whether we would require her services any further, blowing off her superfluous steam in the meantime, with a turn of her paddles every now and then to show that she was quite ready for more work.
These were all the signs of life afloat in our immediate vicinity on the whilom teeming, busy tideway; and the shore on either side was equally still, only an occasional light, twinkling here and there like a Will o’ the Wisp, bearing evidence that some people were stirring, or beginning to wake up as the darkness grew, with that topsy-turvy habit which those who live on land have sometimes of turning day into night!
We aboard ship, though, preserved the regular ways of sea-folk; and beyond myself and Tim Rooney, who remained behind on the forecastle, to keep me company more than to act as look-out, I believe, not a soul was to be seen on the upper deck of the Silver Queen during this last half-hour of the first dog-watch, now just expiring.
No, not a soul. For Mr Saunders, the second mate, with Matthews and the other apprentices had started aft to their quarters the moment the anchor had been dropped and all things made snug forwards; Mr Mackay had disappeared from the poop, having taken our river pilot down into the cuddy for a glass of grog prior to his departure for the shore to make his way back by land to the docks he had started from, unless he could pick up a job of another vessel going up, and so “combine business with pleasure,” as Sam Weeks remarked to Matthews with a snigger, as if he had said something extremely funny; while Adams and the other two sailors, the remaining hands we had aboard, had likewise proceeded towards the cuddy by the boatswain’s advice to try and wheedle the steward Pedro into giving them some tea, there not being as yet any cook in the ship to look after the messing arrangements of the crew, so that they were all adrift in this respect, having no proper provision made for them.
Then, all was still inboard and out; nothing occurring, until, presently, the same boy I had noticed before, and who I found was helping the steward stowing provisions in the after-hold beneath the saloon, came out from under the break of the poop at six o’clock to strike the ship’s bell, or “make it four bells,” nautically speaking, in the same way as he had done previously.
I think I can hear the sound now as I heard it that calm evening when we were anchored off Gravesend. The “cling-clang, cling-clang!” of our tocsin, tolling and telling the hour, being echoed by the “pong-pang, pong-pang!” of the merchantman lying near us, and that again answered a second or so later by the “ting-ting, ting-ting!” of the other vessel further away, the different tones lingering on the air and seeming to me like the old church bells of Westham summoning the laggards of the congregation to prayers. Father wasn’t an extreme high churchman, or otherwise I would have said vespers!
After sunset, it grew colder, the wind coming from the eastwards up the open reach of the river; and so, what with my wet things and standing so long on the forecastle I began to shiver. The boatswain noticed this on the sound of the ship’s bell waking him up from a little nap into which he had nearly fallen when things became quiet and I ceased to talk.
“Bedad ye’re tremblin’ all over, loike a shaved monkey wid the ag’ey, sure,” he said as he yawned and stretched himself, rising from his seat on the knightheads, where he was supposed to be keeping a strict look-out in the absence of the other men from forward. “Why the dickens don’t ye go into the cuddy aft an’ warrum y’rsilf, an’ dhry y’r wit clothes be the stowve there, youngster?”
“I was just thinking of it,” I replied.
“Ye’d betther do it, that’s betther nor thinkin’,” he retorted; “or ilse ye’ll be catching a cowld an’ gittin’ them nasty screwmatics as makes me howl av a winther sometimes.”
As Tim spoke, I heard a splashing noise in the distance, with the rattling sound of oars moving in the rowlocks; and, looking over the bows to the left, I noticed a large boat rowing rapidly up to us from the direction of Gravesend.
This boat, as it got nearer, seemed to be crammed full of men, its gunwale being quite down to the water’s edge with the weight of its human cargo.
In an instant, the thought flashed through my mind, ridiculous though it was, that the ship was about to be boarded by pirates, my reading for some time past, and especially during the last week or so when I was assured of going to sea, having been mainly confined to stories of nautical adventure, in which such gentry generally played a prominent part.
“Look, look, Mr Rooney!” I cried stopping my shivering and feeling all aglow with excitement. “Don’t you see that boat there coming towards us to capture the ship?”
“Arrah, don’t make a fool av y’rsilf, Misther Gray-ham,” he answered, laughing and taking the matter quite coolly. “It’s ownly goin’ to that Yankee astern av us; but the tide bein’ on the ebb, in course, they’ve got to make foorther up the strame towards this vessel, so as to fetch their own craft handsomely—d’ye see?”
He was mistaken, however, for the boat approached closer and closer to us, so that the occupants could be clearly distinguished; and, just as it came alongside, a man in the stern-sheets, who had been steering, stood up, still holding the yokelines, and hailed the ship.
“Silver Queen, ahoy!”
“Begorra, it’s the skipper!” ejaculated Tim, recognising the voice at once; and he then shouted out in a louder tone: “Aye, aye, Cap’en Gillespie, it’s the owld barquy, sure enough. Stand by, an’ I’ll haive ye a rhope in a brace av shakes!”
The quiet that had reigned on board now vanished; and all was bustle and activity, the captain’s loud hail having been heard by others besides the boatswain.
Almost before he had time to pitch the promised rope to the bowman of the boat so that it could drop down with the stream under the ship’s counter, Mr Mackay and the pilot appeared again on the poop; while the others came out on to the main-deck, ready to receive the new-comers in seaman-like fashion, the second mate and Matthews taking up a position just amidships, abaft of the main-chains, where the side-ladder was fixed, acting as a sort of guard of honour as it were.
First to appear on board, holding on to the side lines which the second mate had thrown over within his reach, and stepping up the narrow and slippery ladder cleats as if he were ascending a comfortable staircase, only pausing an instant on the edge of the gunwale of the bulwarks before jumping down on the deck, was a tall spare man with a thin face and high cheekbones, a long pointed nose being also a most prominent feature. He had very scanty whiskers, too, and this seemed to make his face look thinner and his nose longer, so that the latter resembled a bird’s beak.
This was Captain Gillespie, as I quickly learnt from the way Mr Saunders and Matthews addressed him; Mr Mackay, meanwhile, giving him a cordial salutation from the head of the poop, his proper place as the officer in command, until his superior took the reins in his own hand, which as yet the captain did not offer to do.
“I hardly expected you so soon, sir,” said Mr Mackay, leaning over the rail. “We brought up earlier than I thought we should, the tide fetching us down in capital time.”
“Aye, but I was on the look-out for ye, Mackay, for I told you I’d be aboard almost as you anchored; and, you know, when I say a thing I mean a thing.”
“Hear that now?” said Tim the boatswain to me in a loud whisper, he having come down from the forecastle after heaving a rope over to those in the boat, and I following him to where the others were standing on the deck. “Ye’ll soon know owld Jock’s ways. We allers calls him ‘Sayin’s an’ Maynins’; for that’s what he’s allars a-sayin’!”
While the captain was exchanging greetings with the mates and Matthews, my other two fellow apprentices being nowhere to be seen, another thin man followed him up the side-ladder from the boat, who, wearing a thick monkey-jacket, looked a trifle less lean than Captain Gillespie; and to him succeeded a shoal of sailors, nineteen clambering in on board after him.
Tim Rooney did not notice these much, only telling me that the one who came immediately in the captain’s wake was the “say,” or channel pilot, who would con the ship for the remainder of her course down the river and to the Downs beyond; and I may add that this individual was the only thin pilot I have ever seen!
Rooney also said that the batch of men brought to complete our crew seemed “a tidy lot;” but when the last man stepped down from the bulwarks, he seemed a little more impressed, not to say excited.
“Bedad,” he exclaimed sotto voce to me, “I’m blissid if the skipper ar’n’t picked up that Chinee cook we’d aboard two v’y’ges agone, owld Ching Wang! There’s his ugly yalle’r face now toorned this way foreninst you, Misther Gray-ham. Begorra hee don’t look a day oulder, if a troifle uglier since I sayed him last!”
“And is he a Chinaman?” I asked, full of curiosity; “a real, live Chinaman from the East?”
“Be jabers he is, ivery inch av him from his blissid ould pigtail, tied up with a siezin’ of ropeyarn, down to his rum wooden brogues an’ all, the craythur!” replied Tim, stretching out his big hairy fist to the other, who had advanced on seeing him and stopped just abreast, his saffron-coloured face puckered up into a sort of wrinkled smile of pleasure at meeting an old shipmate like the boatswain, who said in his hearty way: “Hallo, ye ould son av a gun! Who’d a-thought av sayin’ ye ag’in in the ould barquey, Ching Wang? Glad ye’re a-comin’ with us, an’ hopes ye’re all roight!”
“Chin-chin, Mass’ Looney,” answered the Chinee, putting his monkey-like paw into Tim’s broad palm and shaking hands cordially in English fashion. “Me belly well, muchee sank you. Me fetchee chow-chow number one chop when you wauchee.”
“Aye, that’s roight, me joker; if ye say that I gits me groob whin I wants it, we’ll be A1 friends an’ have no squalls atwane us,” said my friend the boatswain as the Chinaman passed along the deck to the forward deck-house, entering the galley as if he knew the way well, Tim adding as he got out of hearing: “The ig’rant haythin, he nivir can spake me name roight; allers callin’ me ‘looney,’ jist as if I wor a blissid omahdawn loike himsilf!”
Meanwhile, the other men who had come on board, most of whom were fine strapping fellows, as if Captain Gillespie had selected them carefully, scrambled past us to their quarters in the forecastle, the boatswain scanning them keenly with his sharp seaman’s eye as they went by, and commenting on their appearance; some being sturdy and having decent chests of clothes, which they lugged after them, while others looked lean and half starved, carrying their few belongings in bags, which showed that they had little or nothing beyond what they stood up in, and were but ill provided for the long voyage we were about to take.
Tim shook his head at these latter.
“Begorra, thay’re as lane as Job’s toorkey, an’ that wor all skin an’ faythers,” he muttered. “Thay’ll pick up, though, whin they gits out to say an’ has a good bit av salt joonk insoide av ’em, instid av the poor livin’ thay’ve hid av late.”
As soon as the men had all disappeared under the forecastle, leaving room for us to pass along the deck, the boatswain stepped up to the captain to present himself; and I followed his example.
“Hi, Rooney, man,” said Captain Gillespie accosting Tim, “I’m glad you haven’t deserted us; though I knew it before, for I heard your voice answering my hail.”
“No, cap’en, I’ll niver desart the ould ship so long’s ye’re the skipper,” replied Tim. “It’s goin’ on foive years now since we’ve sailed togither.”
“Aye, close on that; and I hope we’ll sail together for five years more, man, for I don’t wish a better bosun,” responded the other pleasantly. “But, who’s that you’ve got in tow?”
“Misther Gray-ham, sorr,” said Tim, shoving me more in front as I took off my cap and bowed.
“Our new apprentice,” explained Mr Mackay from the top of the poop ladder as he caught sight of me. “He came aboard just before we left the docks.”
“Ah, I thought I didn’t see him this morning,” observed the captain. And turning to me he said: “I’ve read a very good letter the owners got about you, youngster, and if you only do your duty and obey orders I’ll try to make a sailor out of you, and we’ll get on very well together; but, mind you, if you try any tricks with me, you’ll find me a scorcher.”
“Oh, I think he’ll turn out all right,” put in Mr Mackay as I blushed and stood before the old fellow not knowing what to say, he looked so stern at me when he spoke. “I’ve had a chat with him already, and I think he’s got the right stuff in him.”
“Has he?” returned the captain. “That’s got to be proved by and by. All boys promise well at first, but generally end badly! However, I only want him to understand me at the start, and know that when I say a thing I mean a thing, and stick to it, too. Where are the other ’prentices?”
“I told them they might turn in, as there was nothing else for them to do,” replied the first mate, excusing them; “they were hard at it all day getting the cargo in, and helping to warp out of dock.”
“H’m,” muttered the captain, as if he did not like the idea of anyone having a rest off while he was about; and he compressed his lips while his long nose seemed to grow longer. “H’m!”
“What do you think of doing sir?” inquired Mr Mackay in the middle of this awkward pause, by way of changing the conversation. “The wind looks as if it was going to hold from the east’ard.”
“Aye, so I think, too,” assented Captain Gillespie, looking more amiable as his mind was recalled to action. “It’s just the wind we want for going down Channel; and the sooner we take advantage of it, the better. What say you pilot?”
“I’m agreeable,” replied the thin man alongside him in the monkey-jacket, who was giving some parting message to the one in the oilskin as he went down the side-ladder to take a passage back to Gravesend in the shoreboat that had brought his comrade off. “I think we’d better lose no time but tow on at once to the Downs.”
“Just what I wish,” said Captain Gillespie springing up the poop ladder and taking his place by the side of Mr Mackay; and, as the shoreboat pushed off with its now solitary passenger and only one waterman to pull, he shouted out, “Hands, up anchor!”
“Aye, aye, sorr,” responded the boatswain, who, expecting the order, had already gone forwards to rouse out the men before they had stowed themselves into their bunks, quickly followed by Mr Saunders the second mate, who also anticipated what was coming; and the next moment I could hear Tim’s shrill whistle and his hoarse call, which seemed an echo of the captain’s, albeit in even a louder key, “A–all hands up anchor!”
Mr Mackay now hailed the tug, which had been standing by still with her steam up, awaiting our summons, and she steered up alongside shortly; so, while our portion of the crew manned the windlass, hauling in the cable with a chorus and the clink-clanking noise of the chain as the pauls gripped, another set of hands busied themselves in getting in the towing-hawser from the Arrow, and fastening it a second time around our bollards forward.
“Hove short, sir!” soon sang out the second mate from his station on the knightheads, when the anchor was up and down under our forefoot. “It’ll show in a minute!”
“All right,” answered Captain Gillespie from aft, “bring it home!”
More clink-clanking ensued from the windlass; and, then, as the vessel’s head slewed round with the tide, showing that she was released from the ground, Mr Saunders shouted, “Anchor’s now in sight, sir!”
“Heave ahead!” the captain roared in answer to the master of the tug; and, a second or two later, we were under weigh and proceeding once more down the river, Captain Gillespie calling to the second mate that he might “cat and fish” the anchor if he liked, as he did not intend to bring up again, but to make sail as soon as the tug cast off in the morning. Adding, as Mr Saunders turned away to give the order for manning the catfalls: “And you’d better see to your side-lights at once, for fear of accidents.”
Mindful of my previous experiences on the forecastle, I now kept away from this part of the vessel, especially now that it was crowded with the additional hands that had come on board; and after remaining for some little time near the deck-house, I went up on the poop after the new pilot, who as soon as we were moving took up a similar position on the weather side as his predecessor had done, proceeding likewise to con the ship in the same manner.
The evening was rapidly drawing in; and the big red and green lanterns, which I noticed were placed presently in the fore-chains on the port and starboard sides respectively, began to shoot out their party-coloured gleams across the surface of the water, stretching out to meet the bright twinkling lights ashore on either hand, which multiplied fourfold as the darkness grew.
Adams was not at the wheel now, one of the fresh hands having taken his place. But I did not mind this man being a stranger, nor did I feel so lonesome and anxious for someone to speak to as was the case earlier in the day; for Captain Gillespie having taken command of the ship, Mr Mackay the first mate was a free man, and he came and talked to me, explaining things very kindly as we pursued our way onward, the tide still with us and adding considerably to the rate we were being towed by the little Arrow, which had red and green side-lights like ours and a bright clear white one at the masthead as well, to show to other craft that she was a steamer under weigh, so that they might avoid fouling in the fairway.
An hour or so after starting from Gravesend, we passed a bright red beacon, which Mr Mackay told me was the light marking the Mucking Flat; and, later on yet, glided by the one on Chapman Head, getting abreast of the light at the head of Southend Pier on our left at ten o’clock, or “four bells” in the first watch—soon after which, the revolving light of the Nore lightship was sighted, like a single-eyed Cyclops, staring at us in the distance one moment and eclipsed the next.
The moon now rose, putting all these artificial lights to shame as it flooded the stream with its silver sheen; but I got so sleepy with the night air after all my excitement through the day, besides being thoroughly exhausted from standing so long on my legs, that, as Mr Mackay was pointing out something in connection with Sheerness and the Isle of Sheppey, and a light house on top of a church—I’m sure I can’t recollect what it was all about—I made a stumble forward and nearly fell on my face on the deck, dead beat.
“Poor little chap, you’re tired out,” said the first mate sympathisingly, putting his arm round me and holding me up; “and when a fellow’s tired out, the best thing he can do is to turn in!”
“Eh, sir,” said I sleepily. “Turn where?”
“Turn in, my boy,” he replied laughing. “Go to roost, I mean. To bed—if you understand that better.”
“But where shall I go, sir?” I asked, catching his meaning at last.
“Come along and I’ll soon show you,” he answered, taking me down the poop ladder to the after-deckhouse, and hailing the steward to show a light: “There!”
It was a little narrow box of a cabin with four bunks in it, two on one side running athwart the deck and two fore and aft. The ends of these crossed each other, and they looked exactly like shelves in a cupboard; while, to add to the effect and trench on the already limited space of this apartment, the floor was blocked up by two other sea-chests besides my own, and a lot of loose clothes and other things strewn about.
The two bottom bunks were already occupied, Jerrold and Sam Weeks snoring away respectively in them; and one of the two upper ones was filled with what looked like a collection of odds and ends and crockery ware.—This was the situation.
What was I to do?
I looked at Mr Mackay appealingly.
“Well, Graham,” he said in answer to my look, “you must make the best of a bad job. These two fellows have turned in first, so, as you’re the last comer you’ve only got Dobson’s choice in the matter of bunks—that top one there, which seems a little less crowded than the other, or nothing.”
“I’m so weary,” I replied, “I can sleep anywhere. I don’t mind.”
“Then, in you go,” cried he, giving me a hoist up, while he covered me over with a blanket which he pulled off young Weeks, that worthy having with his customary smartness appropriated mine as well as his own. “Are you all right now?”
“Yes—th–ank you,” I answered, closing my eyes; “g–ood night, sir.”
“Good night, my boy.”
“Goo-goo-oo-ah!” I murmured drowsily, falling asleep in the middle both of a yawn and of my sentence, only to wake again the next moment—it seemed to me—from a horrible dream, in which I was assailed by a crowd of savages, who were dancing round me with terrible cries and just going to make an end of me, for they were pulling and hauling away at me and shaking me to pieces!
And, strange to say, my first waking impression appeared to confirm the story of my dream; for there really was an awful noise going on all round and a yellow tawny face was bending over me looking into mine, all the yellower from the bright sunlight that streamed through the open door of the cabin fall upon it, while the owner of the face was shaking me and calling out close to my ear in a strange dialect, “Hi, lilly pijjin, rousee and bittee!”