Chapter Eight.
Poor Jackson.
As soon as the seamen heard the captain’s words, uttered as they were in a tone which they well knew from experience was meant to be obeyed, several of them at once rushed to where the two darkeys were still struggling in the lee scuppers; when Jackson, the tall young sailor whom I had already noticed for his smartness, stepping forward in advance of the others and stooping down at the same time, lifted up the combatants on to their feet, holding one in each hand as easily as if the two big negroes had been only little dolls.
“Be quiet, I tell ’ee,” he cried, giving Cuffee, the cook, who was the most obstreperous, a shake as he clutched him by the back of his woolly head in the same way as a terrier holds a rat; “be quiet, I tell ’ee, or I’ll pitch you overboard!”
So saying, and emphasising the threat by raising Cuffee at arm’s length, to the level of the bulwarks, he dragged the irate pair along to where Captain Miles was standing by the mainmast bitts, there setting them down before him for judgment.
“Now, you quarrelsome black rascals!” exclaimed the captain confronting them, “what the dickens do you mean by kicking up all this bobbery? I don’t allow any fighting aboard my ship.”
“It ain’t me, Mass’ Cap’en,” said Jake eagerly, “it’s dat nasty niggah dere dat make all de muss ’bout nuffin’ at all!”
“Dat one big lie,” retorted the other scornfully. “He come ’teal de coffee out ob de coppers, an’ w’en I ’peak to him like gen’leman he hit um in the eyeball, him.”
“Belieb me, Mass’ Cap’en, I’se no tief,” said Jake indignantly, drawing himself up and looking very much as if he were going to pitch into Cuffee again. “I’se only go in de galley to get um coffee for Mass’ Tom, an’ I’se ax dat poor trash dere to gib um cup in de most perliteful way as um please; an’ I no sooner done dis dan he catch um crack wid one big ladle on de shin—golly, um hurt now! Den, ob course, I hit um back in brace ob shakes, an’ we go down in rough an’ tumble togedder.”
“My, what big ’tory!” exclaimed the cook in apparent amazement at Jake’s mendacity. “Me go forrud to clean de fis’ for breakfus, an’ w’en um come back in galley, dere I see dat hangman tief takin’ de coffee, an’ den—”
“Then you had a scuffle together, I suppose,” interposed Captain Miles, interrupting Cuffee’s further harangue at this point. “Well, well, as far as I can see you were both in the wrong. Jake, you had no business to enter the cook’s galley without his leave, or touch anything there, for remember he’s as much captain of the caboose as I am on the poop.”
“Golly, Mass’ Cap’en, me no go dere afore widout Cuffee ax me,” put in Jake as Captain Miles made a pause in his lecture.
“Well, don’t you do it again,” continued the captain. “And as for you, Cuffee, I’d advise you not to be so handy with your soup-ladle again in striking your brother darkey, before ascertaining what he wants when he comes to your galley, and who sent him. There, my fighting cocks, you’d better shake hands now and make friends, as the row’s all over!”
This the two at once did, with much grinning and showing of their ivory teeth; and they then went away forwards again together on the most amicable terms, albeit arguing good-humouredly as to which of them had got the best of the fray. Jake believed that he had come off with flying colours, while Cuffee persisted that he was the conqueror, the upshot of the matter being that Jackson, to whom they referred the knotty question, decided that it was “six for one and half a dozen for the other.” With this Solomon-like settlement of the difficulty both were quite satisfied and were sworn chums ever after. I, indeed, was the only loser by the little difference between the two, having to go without my coffee until the proper breakfast hour, “eight bells,” when, possibly, I enjoyed my meal all the more from not getting anything before.
Towards mid-day, we had sunk the land entirely to the westwards, the ship being then on the wide-spreading ocean, with not a thing in sight but water—“water everywhere!”
In front, in rear, to right, to left, all around was one expanse of blue, like a rolling valley, as far as the eye could reach, while the sky above was cloudless and the wind blowing steadily, a little to the southward of east, right on our starboard beam as we steered north-eastwards.
We were not altogether alone, however, for the ubiquitous flying-fish were springing up every now and then from the azure deep, taking short flights from one wave crest to another, or else entangling themselves in the rigging of the ship, and then falling a gasping prey on the deck for Cuffee bye and bye to operate upon in his galley, whence they would emerge again fried into a savoury dish for the cabin table at dinner-time.
Bonitoes and albacore also played round our bows, and the many-hued dolphin could be seen disporting himself astern in our wake; while, at one time, a large grampus swam for some considerable period abreast of the vessel, as if showing how easily he could keep pace with us and outstrip us too when he pleased, for, later on in the afternoon, he darted away and was soon lost to sight. I had now got over all the effects of sea-sickness, a hearty breakfast having restored my equilibrium, thus enabling me to enjoy all that was going on around. The captain especially claimed my attention when he “took the sun” at noon, an operation which I watched with the most absorbed interest; and I found out afterwards the use of the sextant, and the way in which the difference between the ship’s mean time and that of the chronometer below in the cabin—which showed what the hour was at Greenwich—enabled Captain Miles to tell almost to a mile on the chart what was our position with regard to our longitude, our latitude being “worked out” in a different fashion.
Then, there was the heaving of the log at stated intervals to ascertain the speed of the ship through the water, and the constant trimming of the sails; for more canvas was piled on as the breeze fell light during the afternoon, as we wanted everything spread that could draw in order to catch the slightest breath of wind there was.
Oh, yes, there was plenty to see for a novice like me! The Josephine was fresh out of port, and there were lots of things that had to be done to make her ship-shape for the long voyage before her; and, besides, had there been nothing else for the hands to do beyond taking their trick at the wheel and attending to the braces—the ordinary routine of their duty with a fair wind such as we had—the captain and first mate would have felt bound to find them something to keep their minds from mischief. Sailors are never allowed a minute to be idle on a vessel at sea save on Sundays, and then they find work for themselves, as a rule, in the way of mending their clothes and putting their chests in order.
I noticed this device on Captain Miles’s part to provide employment for the men when he came on deck after luncheon; when, seeing some of the seamen lounging about in the waist, he immediately set them to pump out the bilge. This, however, did not occupy them very long, the ship being pretty dry; for, after a thick dirty stream of ill-smelling water, mixed with a portion of molasses, leakage from the casks of sugar below, had poured into the scuppers for a few minutes, the pumps sucked, thus showing that the hold was clear down to the well bottom.
A second washing-down decks followed, to efface the traces of the nasty bilge-water; and then, Captain Miles looked about for another task to keep the hands busy.
“How is she going?” he asked Mr Marline, who had just seen to the heaving of the log, the man assisting him having not quite yet reeled in the line.
“Six knots, sir,” answered the chief mate.
“By Jingo! that’ll never do with this breeze,” said the captain. “We must get the starboard stunsails on her.”
“All right, sir,” responded Mr Marline; and thereupon a couple of men went aloft to reeve the studding-sail halliards through the jewel blocks at the end of the yard-arms, while others stood below preparing the tackle and getting the booms ready, with tacks rove for hoisting, sail after sail being speedily packed on in addition to the canvas we were already carrying.
The log was then hove again, and a couple more knots of way somewhat pleased the captain; but, a moment afterwards, seeing that the hands were out of work once more, he thought of a fresh task for them.
“Mr Marline,” he sang out presently, as he paced up and down the poop, eyeing the spars aloft and then casting his eyes forward.
“Aye, aye, sir,” was the prompt answer from the chief mate, who was standing by the taffrail behind the man at the wheel, looking aloft to see how the sails drew and then glancing round the ship occasionally, in a similar sailor-like way to the captain.
“What say you to getting the anchors aboard and unshackling the cables, eh? I don’t think we shall want to use them again now before we get into soundings, and she seems a little down by the head.”
“All right, sir,” said the mate. “I’ll go forwards and see to the job at once. Here, you idlers,” he added as he descended the poop-ladder, “spring up there on the fo’c’s’le and see about getting the anchors inboard!”
This operation, I may explain, is generally undertaken soon after a ship leaves harbour and clears the channel when outwards bound across seas; for, not only do the anchors interfere with the vessel’s sailing trim from their dead weight hanging over the bows, even when properly catted and fished, but they are a great deal in the way. In addition to this, the ship is liable to take in water through the hawse-holes, which can be plugged up, of course, when the cable chains are unshackled, although not before. As we had been, however, up to this time navigating the narrow passages between the clustering islands of the Caribbean Sea and the dangerous reefs in their vicinity, where we might have had occasion possibly to anchor at any moment should the wind fail us and the cross currents near the land peril the safety of the ship, the anchors had been left still ready for instant service; but, now that we were in the open sea, we would have no necessity for having recourse to their aid until we fetched our home port, so they might just as well be stowed away till then.
“May I go, too, and see what they are doing, Captain Miles?” I asked as Mr Marline and the crew scampered forwards.
“Yes, my boy,” he said kindly. “Only, mind you don’t get into any danger! I promised your father, you know, to look after you.”
“Oh, I’ll take care,” I replied with a joyous laugh at getting the permission; and, away I followed the others to the forecastle, where I had been longing to go ever since the early morning, when, it may be remembered, Davis ordered me back to the poop on my attempting to pass forwards as I first came out of the cabin.
If it was jolly watching the progress of the ship from aft, it was ever so much more delightful from my new coign of vantage; for, as she dived her head and parted the waves with her bows, the water dashed up on either side in a column of spray like a fountain. The sunlight falling on this refracted the most beautiful prismatic colours, a perfect rainbow being formed to leeward which was ever being broken up and then arching itself anew into a sort of emerald and orange halo in front of the vessel’s prow.
From where I stood on the knight heads, in the centre of the forecastle, just under the shadow of the bellying sails, the sea appeared much nearer to me, swelling up to the lee-rail as the Josephine tore along through it in ploughing her course onward; and yet, the outlook conveyed a better idea of its vastness than when I was on the poop aft and more elevated above the surface level, for the immense plain of water, in constant surging motion—now flat as a meadow, now ridged with curling waves as far as the eye could reach, and then again scooped out into a wide hollow valley covered over with yeasty foam, looking as if a giant custard had been poured over it—extended to where the curving horizon met the sky-line in the distance, our ship, in comparison with the limitless expanse, being only as it were a tiny cork, floating on the ocean of blue and blown along as lightly before the wind!
The fore-staysail, which had only recently been hoisted when the studding-sails were set, being now found to be in the way of getting in the anchors, as it prevented the hands from working freely, Mr Marline ordered the downhaul to be manned as soon as the halliards were cast-off. The sail was then loosely stowed for a while, and a double-purchase block and tackle rigged up in its place on the stay.
Mr Marline then sang out to Moggridge to cast-off the shank painter securing the best bower to the starboard side of the ship, this being the easiest anchor of the two to handle, for it was to windward, clear of the sheets of the head-sails; whereupon, the lifting gear being attached, the ponderous mass of metal was soon hoisted up above the cat-head and swayed inboard by means of a guy-line fastened to one of the flukes.
The command was then given to lower away, when, the anchor being deposited on the deck of the forecastle, it was made snug close to the foremast bitts, so that it could not shift its new moorings as the vessel rolled.
The chain-cable was next unshackled from the ring in the anchor-stock and rattled down into the locker in the fore-peak; after which, the starboard hawse-hole was plugged up to prevent any water from finding its way below through the orifice. Thus, in a very little time, half the task the captain had set the men to do was accomplished, the seamen working with a will and singing cheerily as they laid on to the falls of the tackle, “yo-ho-heaving” all together, and pulling with might and main.
The other anchor, however, being to leeward, was a little more difficult to manage, for it was submerged every now and then as the ship canted over, pitching her bows into the sea and splashing the spray up over the yard-arm; but, sailors are not soon daunted when they have a job on hand, and soon the shank painter of this was also cast-off and the purchase tackle made fast.
“Hoist away, men!” cried Mr Marline.
“Run away with the falls, you lubbers,” echoed Moggridge, who was as busy about the matter as the first mate and doing two men’s work himself; but, although the usual chorus was raised, and the sailors tugged away with all their strength, the anchor would not budge from its resting-place on the cat-head.
“The tackle has fouled the jib-sheet,” said Jackson, who had been pulling like a horse at the rope’s end, and now looked over the side to see what prevented them from lifting the port bower. “Shall I get over and clear it, sir?”
“Aye, do,” replied the mate; when Jackson got over the bows in a jiffey, holding on with one hand while he used the other to disentangle the purchase tackle, and not minding a bit the water, which rose up as high as his neck when the ship dipped.
“Haul away, it’s all clear now!” he called out presently; and he was just stepping inboard again when, the Josephine suddenly luffing up to the wind, the jib flapped, and, the sheet knocking the poor fellow off his balance, he tumbled backwards into the sea, without having time even to utter a cry.
“Man overboard!” shouted Mr Marline at the top of his voice.
For a moment, the wildest confusion seemed to reign throughout the vessel, the hands scurrying to the side; and looking over into the sea below, where we could see Jackson’s head bob up for an instant; but as we gazed down he was drifted rapidly astern and quickly lost to sight in the trough of the waves.
The hubbub, however, only lasted an instant; for almost as soon as the mate’s shout had been heard aft, Captain Miles’s voice rang through the vessel in brief words of command, sharp and to the point.
“Stand by, men,” he cried. “Hands ’bout ship!”
The crew at once jumped toward the braces, singing out “Ready, aye, ready,” as they cast them off, some going to the lee-sheets to haul in there.
“Helm’s a-lee!” then came from aft, followed by the orders “Tacks and sheets!” and “Mainsail haul!” when, the Josephine’s bows paying off under the influence of the tacked head-sails, the yards were swung round in a trice; and, within less than five minutes the vessel was retracing the same track she had just gone over in quest of the missing man.
A man was sent up in the foretop, while Captain Miles himself ran up the ratlines of the mizzen shrouds to look out; and, at the same time, preparations were made for lowering the gig, which fortunately was still slung from the davits astern, not having been yet housed inboard with the other boats amidships—that being the next job the captain intended seeing to after the anchors were got in.
I, of course, was as much excited as anyone, and remained on the forecastle, looking out eagerly for any sign of Jackson, although I could not see him anywhere. I believe I was so confused with the ship having gone round on the opposite tack, in order to go back on her course, that I hardly knew in which direction to look for the unfortunate man, for what had before been ahead of the ship was now necessarily astern from her reversing her position.
In another minute, however, the look out in the foretop discerned Jackson, and he hailed the deck at once.
“There he is! there he is!” he sang out.
“Where?” cried Captain Miles impatiently.
“About four cables’ length off the weather bow. I can see his head quite clear above the wash of the sea; and he seems swimming towards us.”
“All right then, keep your eye on him, so as to pilot us! Mr Marline,” continued Captain Miles, “lower the boat at once with four hands; we can’t go close enough without it to the poor fellow, for we are to leeward of him.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the chief mate, who had gone aft and was seeing to the falls of the boat; which presently, with himself in the stern-sheets and four hands to pull the oars, was lowered down all standing, the helmsman “luffing up” at the proper moment, so that the way of the ship might be arrested to prevent the gig being upset before getting on an even keel in the sea, it being a rather ticklish thing to launch a boat from a vessel under sail.
Luckily, however, the manoeuvre was safely accomplished without any mishap, the fall tackles being unhitched the instant the gig touched the water; and then, the boat’s crew shipping their oars without delay, she was pulled off to windward of us in the direction indicated by the look out man in the foretop, who with his hand extended pointed the course to be steered.
The Josephine meanwhile gathered way again slowly and followed astern of the boat, although somewhat more to leeward, the wind being almost in her teeth and the ship having to sail close-hauled.
After a little time—for we had run nearly half a mile before going about and some minutes were consumed in getting the ship round on the opposite tack—we approached the spot where the accident had occurred; then, all of us could see Jackson plainly from the deck.
He was swimming grandly; now rising up on the top of a rolling wave, and then, as he surmounted this, sinking for a moment from sight in the hollow of the next, but making steady progress towards the ship all the while. Every now and again, too, he lifted one of his hands out of the water on commencing his stroke, as if to tell us he was all right and in good heart, noticing that we were coming to his rescue. The boat, the while rowed ahead of us as fast as the men in her could pull, putting their backs into the oars with all their strength, although making for the gallant swimmer in a slanting course to that of the Josephine.
Nearer and nearer we sailed, but much more slowly than all hands on board could wish, for the breeze was very light; nearer and nearer the gig approached Jackson, until we could see the very expression of his face.
He was actually grinning, and appeared from the movement of his mouth once when on top of a roller, to shout out some chaffing exclamation to us, seeming to regard the whole thing as a huge joke; and, Captain Miles was just about issuing some order about backing the main-topsail in order to heave the ship to, so as to get him and the boat aboard again, when, all at once, our anticipated joy at welcoming the poor fellow was turned into dismay by a startled cry from Jake, who was standing up in the weather rigging near me.
“Golly, Mass’ Tom!” he yelled out, loud enough for all to hear him, his black face changing nearly to a sickly sea-green colour with horror and consternation. “Dere’s one big shark swimmin’ right ahind de poor buckra. O Lor’, O Lor’, he jus’ up to him now!”
At this time the ship was not quite a cable’s length from the unfortunate man, who was about a point off our port bow; while the gig couldn’t have been half that distance away from him; and, no sooner had Jake’s startling announcement of the shark’s proximity alarmed us all at the new and terrible peril threatening the swimmer, than the crew, led by Captain Miles, shouted out a concentrated cry of warning. “Ahoy! Look out! Shark!”
The words came out almost simultaneously, as it uttered by one voice, thrilling through the air with their fearful meaning, when, hardly had the sounds died away than we could see that Mr Marline and those in the gig with him heard us; for, recognising the urgency of the case, they redoubled their exertions to reach Jackson in time, so as to frustrate the intentions of his terrible antagonist. They seemed to put fresh steam in their oars, pulling all they knew against the choppy sea and wind, both of which were against them, counteracting their efforts and pressing the boat back as they urged it forwards.
From the fact, however, of our being to leeward of him and the wind bearing our shout away, Jackson unfortunately did not appear to hear us. At all events, he made no sign in response whatever, still swimming onwards in the direction of the ship, but leisurely, as if ignorant of any new source of danger.
Captain Miles grew intensely excited, as, indeed, we all were by this time; so, jumping up on the poop bulwarks and holding on to the mizzen shrouds, he repeated the cry of warning, all hands taking it up as before in one hoarse shout.
“Shark! shark! Look out, man alive! He’s now close in upon you, and coming up fast astern!”
This time Jackson caught our hail, but still, evidently mistook its import. He thought we only called to him by way of encouraging him to strike out more vigourously for the ship, and he waved his hand in acknowledgment of the signal; then he breasted the waves anew in fine style, although taking it quite easy as if thoroughly confident in himself and not a bit alarmed.
The reason he made for the Josephine was that he did not perceive the boat, which he had not seen lowered; and, besides this, it was every now and then hidden from view as it sank down between the ridges of the rollers, while, in addition, his face was turned in the opposite direction to that in which the little craft was approaching him.
The captain was in a perfect agony.
“Shark! shark!” he again screamed, more than cried, out. “For heaven’s sake, strike out, man, or you’re lost!”
Then, all at once, Jackson appeared to grasp the meaning of the warning; and, looking behind him hurriedly, he caught sight of the cruel monster that was swimming after him, stroke by stroke and ready to sheer up alongside when it thought the proper opportunity had arrived for seizing its prey.
It must have given the poor fellow an awful sensation!
He could not but have realised the fearful doom that possibly awaited him; for we could, in a moment, even at that distance, notice his face change—a terror-stricken look coming over it in place of its previously buoyant expression. The brave fellow, however, uttered never a word, but only continued swimming on towards us in grim desperation.
“Pull, Marline, for God’s sake, pull!” shouted out Captain Miles to the mate and those with him in the boat; but, although the men made the water churn up over the bows of the gig in their mad haste to urge it forwards, the relentless shark was quicker in its movements and crept up closer to poor Jackson.
It was close in his rear, while the boat was yet thirty or forty yards away; and then, like a flash of lightning, we saw the monster’s gleaming white stomach as it threw itself over on its back and opened its wide maw lined with rows of serrated teeth.
“My God!” exclaimed Captain Miles, turning away his head, “they are too late!”
A sympathetic groan of anguish ran through the ship, and I could not help bursting into tears as I jumped down from the gangway, not daring to watch the end of the tragedy; but I thought I heard one agonised scream from the poor fellow, which must have escaped his lips just as the cruel teeth of the shark gripped its unresisting victim, telling that all was over.
After this, for one single moment, there was a still silence as of death around me, the men appearing to hold their very breaths in excess of emotion.