Chapter Eighteen.
Caught in a Pampero.
“Sure an’ you must bear in mind, messmates,” commenced Pat, coming outside his galley and leaning against the side in free-and-easy fashion, “when I wint aboord that vessel in Noo Yark, I was a poor gossoon, badly off for clothes, having no more slops than I could carry handy in a hankercher.”
“Not like your splendiferous kit now,” observed Sails, the sail-maker, with a nudge in Jorrocks’ ribs to point the joke—the cook’s gear in the way of raiment being none of the best.
“No, not a ha’porth ov it,” proceeded the Irishman, taking no notice of the sarcastic allusion to his wardrobe. “To till the truth, I’d only jist what I stood up in, for I’d hard times ov it in the States, an’ was glad enough to ship in the schooner to git out ov the way ov thim rowdy Yankees, bad cess to ’em! They trate dacint Irishmen no betther nor if they were dirthy black nayghurs, anyhow! How so be it, as soon as I got afloat ag’in, I made up my mind to git some traps togither as soon as I could.”
“Let you alone for that!” interposed Sails again, maliciously.
“Arrah, be aisy now, old bradawl and palm-string, or I’ll bring ye up with a round turn!” exclaimed Pat, getting nettled at the remark.
“Why can’t you let him be?” cried the rest, thereupon. “Heave ahead, cooky;” and, so encouraged, the Irishman once more made a fresh start, declaring, however, that if he were once more interrupted they’d “never hear nothing” of what he was going to tell them, “at all, at all!”
Peace being then restored, he resumed the burden of his tale.
“As soon as the ould schooner was riddy to start with all thim mules aboard, we got a tugboat to take us in tow down the harbour out to the Narrows, as they calls the entrance to Noo Yark Bay; and whin the tug’s hawser was fetched over our bows to be fastened to the bollards I sees that the rope’s a bran-new Manilla one.
“‘Aha,’ thinks I, ‘that’s a foine pace of rope anyhow! I’ll have a bit ov you, me lad, to stow away with my duds; mayhap ye’ll come in handy by-and-bye!’ and so saying to meeself, I sings out to the chap on the tugboat a-paying out the hawser, to give me some more slack, and he heaves over a fathom or two more, which allowed me to cut off a good length, lavin’ plenty yit to belay around the bollards; an’ whin no one was lookin’ I takes the pace ov cable below and kicks it away in the forepeak, so as I could know where to foind it forenenst the time I wanted for to use it.
“Well, we sailed away from Sandy Hook down to the Line, an’ sailed and sailed, losin’ most of our mules, and making no headway, as I’ve tould you, until at last we got into the south-east Trades, same as this ship is now, and fetched down the coast to Cape Horn.
“Presently, it begins to get so could, that for want of clothing I was nearly blue-mouldy with the frost in the nights, until I could stand it no longer; but none ov the chaps had any duds to spare, an’ I was clane out of me head what for to do.
“One evening, howsoever, whin I were that blue with could as I could have sarved for a Blue Pater if triced up to the mast-head, a sinsible kind ov idea sthruck me.
“‘Be jabers,’ sez I to mesilf, ‘I’m forgettin’ that pace of Manilla hawser I’ve got stowed away; sure an’ it’ll make an illigant overall!’
“No sooner I thinks that, than down I goes to the forepeak, where I found me rope all right; and thin, thin and there, boys, I unreaves the strands, making it all into spun yarn—you know, I s’pose, as how I’m a sail-maker by rights, like Sails here, and not a reg’ler cook?”
“The deuce you are!” ejaculated Sails; “you never told us that before.”
“No fear,” replied Pat. “Faix, I don’t till you iverythin’ I knows—I larnt better nor that from the monkeys in Brazil, old ship!”
“But what did you do with the Manilla hemp arter you unrove the hawser?” asked Jorrocks, his curiosity now roused by the matter-of-fact way in which the Irishman told his story—relating it as if every word was “the true truth,” according to the French idiom.
“Why, you omahdaun, I jist worked it into a guernsey, knitting it from the nick downwards, the same as the ladies, bless ’em! do them woollen fallals that they wear round theirselves.”
“You wove it into a guernsey?” cried Sails, in astonishment.
“Aye, I did that so,” returned Pat; “and wore it, too, all round Cape Horn!”
“Then let me look at you a little closer,” cried the sail-maker, pulling Doolan towards him, and passing his hand over his nose.
“What the blazes are ye afther, man?” asked Pat, not being able to make out what the other meant by handling him in that fashion.
“Only seeing if you had my mark,” said Sails, calmly; “and here it is, by all that’s powerful!”
“Your mark, Sails? What on airth d’ye mane?”
“Why, whenever I sews up a chap in his hammock as dies at sea, which I’ve often had to do as part of the sail-maker’s duty in the many ships I’ve been in, I allers makes a p’int of sticking my needle through the corpse’s nose, to prevent him slipping out of his covering.”
“What!” ejaculated the Irishman, startled for the moment out of his native keenness of wit; “an’ is it m’aning to say as it’s a could corpus I’ve been, an’ that I’ve bin did an’ buried in the bottom of the say?”
“Aye, aye, my hearty,” answered Sails, with great nonchalance. “And I’ve sewed you up in your hammock, too, for sarten—that is, just as sure as you fetched across that there streaky mule of yourn, arter sailing over the ocean for three weeks, and made a guernsey frock out of a Manilla hawser!”
There was a regular shout of laughter from all hands at the sail-maker thus turning the tables so completely on the Irishman, who got so angry at our merriment for the moment that he retired within his caboose, slamming the half-door too, and declaring that not a single mother’s son of those present should have the taste of hot coffee again in the morning watch!
However, Pat’s fits of temper were as evanescent as they were quickly produced, and presently he was laughing and talking away as if he had not been offended, enjoying the joke Sails had against him almost as much as any of the others.
Two days after crossing the Line we sighted the Rocas, on passing the parallel of Fernando Noronha, where the Brazilians have a penal settlement; and, on the third day, we cleared the Cape of Saint Roque, which is the most projecting point of the South American continent—stretching out, as it does, miles into the Atlantic Ocean, while the coast-line on either side of it trends away in a wide sweep, away westwards, north and south, back from the sea.
After passing Saint Roque, we ran down our latitudes rapidly, the south-east Trades keeping with us until we had reached the twentieth parallel; and we fetched Rio on our forty-second day out. This was not bad time, considering the great distance we were driven out of our way by the gale, and the fact of our subsequently knocking about for a week in the Doldrums.
With regard to matters on board the ship, I may state here, that, from the date of that eventful night when the Esmeralda had so providentially escaped being wrecked on the Rocks of Saint Paul, and Captain Billings, after “dressing down” the mate, had restored me to my former position aft, Mr Macdougall had not spoken a single word to me, although I had made many overtures of peace towards him, wishing the matter to drop—nothing being so unpleasant as to be on awkward terms with any one with whom one is brought in constant contact, especially when the daggers-drawn parties are cooped up together in a vessel on the high seas.
But, no; he would not accept the olive branch.
When it was time for me to relieve his watch, the mate invariably sent one of the hands to summon me, telling me through the same medium the course to be steered, and giving what orders were necessary for the working of the ship, so that there should be no occasion for any conversation between us; and it likewise happened that when we were on deck together, as was frequently the case during the day, he always walked on the weather side of the poop, while I took the leeward place—that is, unless the skipper was there too, when of course the latter promenaded the more honourable beat, and I walked by his side, while Mr Macdougall had the lee-side then all to himself.
At meal-times also, in the cabin, he took care that we should not meet, never coming in until after I had left the table, and always rising up to go on deck should I enter while he was there.
The mate held aloof in a similar fashion from the skipper, the two never interchanging a word save with reference to the navigation of the vessel. He seemed, indeed, to have sent us both to Coventry, although Captain Billings made no comment to me on his conduct; but I did not fail to notice—what indeed was the popular belief through the ship—that, if the first mate was paying us out in this way, he did not forget to “take it out of the crew” in another and very practical mode of his own, which was by driving them as hard as a workhouse superintendent in charge of a lot of poor paupers.
To return to the ship and her voyage, I should observe that, after the south-east Trades failed us—succeeded for a short spell by light variable winds, as we kept well away from the coast, and so perhaps missed the land breeze that we might have had—we picked up the south-west monsoon, which carried us past Rio Janeiro.
The term monsoon, or “monsun,” I may explain, is derived from an Arabic word, mausim, meaning “a set time, or season of the year;” and is generally applied to a system of regular wind currents, like the Trades, blowing in different hemispheres beyond the range of those old customers with which ordinary voyagers are familiar.
From Rio we ran down in five days to the Plate River, having fine weather and making pretty good sailing all the time, as indeed we had done since crossing the Line; but, arrived off Monte Video, we soon had warning that our quiet days of progress through the water on one tack, without shifting a brace or starting a sheet, were numbered with the fortunate things of the past.
One morning, just when we were in latitude 34 degrees 55 minutes south, and 55 degrees 10 minutes West, or nearly a hundred miles off the wide estuary of the Rio de la Plata, I noticed a peculiar phenomenon.
The wind was blowing from the northward of west, while the atmosphere was bright and clear, so that the horizon was extended to almost double its ordinary distance; but, although no land was to be seen anywhere in sight, myriads of little winged insects began all at once to hover over us, just as if we were close in shore under the lee of some tropical forest, while our hands, clothes, faces, and the ship’s rigging as well, began to be covered with long, white, hair-like webs, similar to those woven by spiders in a garden shrubbery! I couldn’t make it out at all, feeling inclined to view the matter as one of those extraordinary freaks of Nature, which even science is unable to throw any light on—phenomena that are every now and then exhibited to us, as if only to show our ignorance of the workings of the invisible Power around us guiding the movements and physical cosmogony of our sphere; but Jorrocks, who was a thorough seaman, believing in portents, and thinking that everything unusual at sea was sent for a purpose, and “meant something,” advised my calling the skipper.
“I ’specs, Mister Leigh,” said he, “as how there’s a squall brewing, or summat, for they’re pretty plentiful down here when the wind bears round to the west.”
“All right, Jorrocks; I’ll give him a hail,” I replied; and leaving the boatswain in charge of the deck, it being my watch, I went down to wake up the skipper, he having only turned in just before I came on duty.
“How’s the glass?” asked Captain Billings, as soon as I had roused him and told him what I had observed.
“I didn’t think of looking at it, sir,” I replied.
“Then do so at once,” he said; “a sailor should never fail to consult his barometer, even when the weather is apparently fine, for it gives warning of any change hours, perhaps, before it may occur. It is an unswerving guide—more so than the wind and sky in some latitudes.”
I hastened now to look at the instrument, and noticing that it had fallen, I reported the fact to the skipper as he was dressing.
“Ah,” said he, “then that has occurred since I turned in;” and, completing his toilet rapidly, he soon followed me on deck, whither I returned at once.
In the short interval of my absence below, however, there was a marked alteration in the scene.
The wind had dropped to the faintest breeze, which presently, too, died away, succeeded by a dead stillness of the atmosphere, while the sea became like glass, except where an occasional heave of the unbroken surface betrayed the restless force beneath that seeming calm; and, instead of the clear sky and wide-stretching horizon melting into the azure distance, which had previously struck me with admiration, a thick haze had crept up over the heavens from the westwards, which, extending right up to the zenith, had soon shut out the bright sunlight, making it darker than night—the air becoming at the same time chill and cold.
I had not much leisure, though, to note the pictorial effects of the scene; for I heard the skipper’s voice behind me.
“By Jove, Leigh!” he exclaimed, “we’re going to have one of those pamperos, as they call them, that come off the mouth of the Plate; and we’ll have all our work cut out for us to be ready in time. Call the other watch, boatswain!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Jorrocks; and quickly his familiar hail rang out fore and aft, as he rapped on the scuttle forwards—
“All ha–a–ands take in sail!”
We were carrying a full spread of canvas at the time; but the men, tumbling out of their bunks with a will, not having had much of that sort of work lately, were soon clambering up the rigging, furling the royals and topgallant sails—I amongst them, you may be sure, having been the first, as usual, on the main royal yard.
“Now, men, take in the flying jib,” cried Captain Billings, when we had come below, having so far stripped the ship for the coming fight; and the headsail was stowed, the spanker and trysail were brailed, the courses hauled up and the yards squared, when we awaited the attack of the pampero.
“It’ll soon be on us now,” said the skipper, seeing that the heavens became blacker and blacker to the westwards; and presently it came!
A streak of vivid lightning shot out from the blue-black storm-clouds that were hung over the ship like a funeral pall, lighting up the surrounding gloom and making it appear all the more sombre afterwards from the momentary illumination; and then, with a crash of thunder—that seemed as if the sky above was riven open, it was so awfully loud and reverberating—the tornado burst upon us, accompanied by a fierce blast of wind, that almost took the ship aback, and would have sent her down beneath the water in an instant to a certainty if we had been under sail.
“Let fly everything!” shouted the skipper; and the halliards being cast loose, the topsails came down on the caps by the run; when the Esmeralda, paying off from the wind, began to exhibit her old form of showing her heels to the enemy—tearing away through the sea with all her sheets flying.
Along with the pampero came a terrific shower of hail that lacerated our faces and almost took away our breath for the moment; but, never heeding this, on the skipper issuing his orders, we were up aloft again reefing topsails in a jiffey, and, as soon as the halliards had been manned and the yards rehoisted, the courses were furled and the jib hauled down, the fore-topmast staysail being set in its place. Everything being now made snug, the vessel was brought once more round to her course on the starboard tack, heading a little to the westward of south.
To the hail succeeded a heavy storm of rain; and then, the pampero having blown itself out by its sudden frenzy, a short calm now came on, after which the wind chopped round to the old quarter, the southwards and eastwards, bringing us back again to the port tack as we steered between the Falkland Islands and the South American continent—keeping in closer to the land now, for any fresh wind that might spring up would be certain to come from off shore.
The day of the pampero, however, did not pass by before another incident happened on board the Esmeralda.
When “all hands” were called, of course Mr Macdougall came up too; and, although he did not go aloft the same as I did to help in reefing topsails and furl the canvas—for he was neither so young nor so active as myself, and besides, it was not his place as first mate of the ship thus to aid the crew in doing the practical part of their duty—yet, on deck, he was of much assistance to the skipper in seeing that his different orders were promptly executed at the moment required; being not chary either of lending a hand at a brace when help was necessary, and exerting himself as much as any one, in a way very unusual for him.
So now, when the pampero had passed away and the excitement was over, Captain Billings, in his joyful exuberance of feeling at the Esmeralda having weathered the peril, went up to him and shook hands cordially.
“Hurrah, Macdougall!” he exclaimed, “the old barquey has been too much for my River Plate bully of a pampero.”
“Aye, mon, she’s weethered it weel, I ween,” replied the mate, accepting the proffered pledge of restored friendship; and he was shaking away at the skipper’s fist as if he was never going to relinquish its grasp, when, suddenly, the calm came on that I have mentioned, and the sails flapped against the masts heavily, shaking the ship and making the rigging vibrate.
Both Mr Macdougall and the skipper looked aloft, impelled by the same instinct, as they stood aft, the mate close to the taffrail; when, at that instant, the spanker boom swinging round, the lee sheet—not being hauled taut—caught the mate athwart his chest and swept him incontinently over the side!
I was on the opposite side of the deck, witnessing with much satisfaction the mode in which he and the skipper had made up their differences, the feud having lasted for over a fortnight; but, on seeing the accident, was for a moment horror-struck.
However, I soon recovered myself.
“Man overboard!” I shouted out, with all the power of my lungs; and then, without hesitation, I plunged after Mr Macdougall into the sea.