One early hour out of the twenty-four contained, indeed, some element of enjoyment, and that was when the decks were undergoing the beneficial process of “holy-stoning,” which consisted in rubbing them from stem to stern with a species of pumice and a plentiful supply of sea water. Then it was that the early bird could get a most enjoyable bath, not in the sea, indeed, which was infested with sharks, but on deck under the full play of a hose.
The bath was customarily followed by a cup of tea, extracted by bribery and corruption from the cook; and then we generally paced the deck barefoot and with just a suspicion of clothing, until the levée of El Señor Sol, whom, from his nasty habit of insinuating himself under the brim of one’s hat, I have always found most trying at daybreak. The bath, the cup of tea, and an anteprandial pipe were not the only advantages of early rising, as one also escaped thereby the extremely trying noise of “holy-stoning” directly over one’s cabin.
No Hindoo, Mohammedan, or Buddhist ever went through his religious ceremonies with such unerring regularity and unshaken faith as inspired the sailors in their “holy-stoning,” in which process they seemed to take especial delight, so that it almost amounted to fetichism; and the face of the chief mate, who usually presided at this daily celebration, would assume an angelic expression that apparently stimulated the men to further efforts.
Unquestionably great as are the benefits conferred by the modern appliances and improvements in the art of shipbuilding, in one respect at least the old Indiaman had the whip-hand of its successor, and that was a roomy cabin, a bed- and sitting-room combined, amply, if not elegantly, furnished. Contrasted with the berth—or “pigging”—system of modern ships, this was a prodigious advantage, compensating to a great extent for the length of the voyage. Being caged up with several utter strangers, passing, for example, through the Red Sea, and in a state of insufferable heat, is an ordeal that one is not likely to forget; having to climb at nights into an upper shelf, and, if one is fortunate enough to sleep through the night without being pitched out, putting one’s bare foot on the bald head of the gentleman below, who also wanted to get up at the same moment—these are instances of the luxury of modern travel of which one hears so much. And we bear it all with a patient shrug worthy of Shylock!
Another digression! But how can one help philosophizing on board ship?
Whether from whistling or more natural causes, the wind at last sprang up, and there was a visible accession of spirits to the cuddy table—animal-spirits, I mean; for the health of the breeze was drunk by one and all in sparkling champagne.
“Holy-stoning,” too, proceeded on the following morning with unexampled vigour, and the chief mate’s face positively beamed.
And now we crossed the line. The elaborate and rather cruel ceremonies with which a previous generation used to celebrate the “crossing” were by this time considerably modified; though even now it was made an opportunity for levying blackmail and inflicting personal discomfiture on such as were in little favour with the rest. We do not know for certain whether nectar was intoxicating—though we should shrewdly suspect such to be the case, considering the unaccountable behaviour of some of the gods in Olympus—but it is certain that Neptune, who shortly arrived on board, was not superior to a mundane predilection for Jamaica rum, an extra allowance of which was meted out to all; so that he probably fell asleep in his chariot, leaving his horses to find the way home by themselves.
Homeward-bound vessels were rarely visited by the sea-god, from whose unwelcome attentions one was exempted by having once crossed the line.
The next diversion on board was created by the capture of a large shark that had been hovering in our wake for several days, and suspected of having purloined more than one joint of sailors’ pork, suspended from the bowsprit to wash out superfluous salt. At last he was caught in the act and duly reported; a deputation waited on the chief mate, and, averse as captains are as a rule to the mess that such a capture makes on the “holy-stoned” deck, the dire decree went forth for his punishment. This involved the sacrifice of yet another leg of pork, and in a few moments he was on deck, his spine being at once severed at its caudal extremity with a blow from an axe.