“Monday, 23d April.—Made the signal for sailing. At noon, the same old dinner—salt horse! The two pilots, Jacob and Jamie, came on board. Employed getting in the Admiral’s stock.”
These two names, Jacob and Jamie, will recall to people who knew Bermuda in those days many an association connected with that interesting island. They were two negroes, pilots to the men-of-war, who, in turn, took the ships out and in. Their wives, no less black and polished than themselves, were the chief laundresses of our fleet; while at their cedar-built houses on shore, we often procured such indifferent meals as the narrow means of the place allowed. I only remember that our dinner, nine times in ten, consisted of ham and eggs. I forget whether or not these men were slaves; I think not: they were, at all events, extremely good-natured fellows, and always very kind and obliging to the midshipmen, particularly to those who busied themselves in making collections of shells and corallines, the staple curiosities of the spot.
It is needless to quote any more from the exact words of this matter-of-fact journal. I find it recorded, however, that next morning a boat came to us from the Boston, a frigate lying near the Leander. The captain of that ship was then, and is now, one of my kindest and steadiest friends. And right well, indeed, did he know how to confer a favour at the fitting season. The boat contained one of the most acceptable presents, I will answer for it, that ever was made to mortal—it was truly manna to starved people—being no less than a famous fat goose, a huge leg of pork, and a bag of potatoes!
Such a present at any other time and place would have been ludicrous; but at Bermuda, where we had been starving and growling for many months without a fresh meal—it was to us hungry, salt-fed boys, the ‘summum bonum’ of human happiness.
Next day, after breakfast, the barge was sent with one of the lieutenants for the Admiral, who came on board at eleven o’clock. But while his excellency was entering the ship on one side, I quitted my appointed station on the other, and, without leave, slipped out of one of the main-deck ports into the pilot-boat, to secure some conch shells and corals I had bespoken, and wished to carry from Bermuda to my friends at Halifax. Having made my purchases, in the utmost haste and trepidation, I was retreating again to my post, when, as my ill stars would have it, the first lieutenant looked over the gangway. He saw at a glance what I was about; and, calling me up, sent me as a punishment to the mast head for being off deck when the Admiral was coming on board. As I had succeeded in getting hold of my shells, however, and some lumps of coral, I made myself as comfortable as possible in my elevated position; and upon the whole rather enjoyed it, as a piece of fun.
We then hove up the anchor, and as we made sail through the passage, I could not only distinguish, from the mast head, the beautifully coloured reefs under water, but trace with perfect ease all the different channels between them, through which we had to thread our winding, and apparently dangerous, course. As the ship passed, the fort saluted the flag with twelve guns, which were returned with a like number; after which we shaped our course for Norfolk, in Virginia.
So far all was well. I sat enjoying the view, in one of the finest days that ever was seen. But it almost makes me hungry now, at this distance of time, to tell what followed.
From the main-top-mast cross-trees, on which I was perched for my misdeeds, I had the cruel mortification of seeing my own beautiful roast goose pass along the main-deck, on its way to the cock-pit. As the scamp of a servant boy who carried the dish came abreast of the gangway, I saw him cock his eye aloft as if to see how I relished the prospect. No hawk, or eagle, or vulture, ever gazed from the sky more wistfully upon its prey beneath, than I did upon the banquet I was doomed never to taste. What was still more provoking, each of my messmates, as he ran down the quarter-deck ladder, on being summoned to dinner, looked up at me and grinned; and one malicious dog patted his fat paunch—as much as to say, ‘What a glorious feast we are to have! Should not you like a bit?’
CHAPTER IX.
KEEPING WATCH.
With a few exceptions, every person on board a man-of-war keeps watch in his turn: and as this is one of the most important of the wheels which go to make up the curious clock-work of a ship’s discipline, it seems to deserve a word or two in passing.