At breakfast I made my appearance on two consecutive mornings a ludicrous figure, the object at once of pity and amusement: eyes bunged up, lips swelled, and cheeks puffed out, like bully Ajax in Homer Travestie, all of which, to a young man of decent exterior, and who, in those days, rather valued himself on his appearance, was exceedingly annoying. Mrs. Hearty, though with a look in which the comic and the tragic struggled for the mastery, now took compassion on me, expressed great regret for the oversight, and furnished my bed with a set of musquito-curtains. “Whine away, you rascals,” said I then to the musquitoes, exultingly; “blow your penny trumpets, you everlasting vagabonds! you have had your last meal on me, rest assured.” What glorious sleep I had after that!
After a fortnight’s stay at Madras, and a vain search for Ramee Sawmee Dabash, who, having some linen of mine to get washed, and a small balance of money to account for, thought it “too much trouble” to make his appearance, I bid adieu to my hospitable friends, reembarked on board the Rottenbeam Castle, and set sail for Bengal. Our society, officers and passengers, met again with renewed pleasure, temporary separation being a great enlivener of the kindly feelings, which, like everything else, require tact and management to keep them in a state of vigour. Each, during his sojourn on shore, appeared to have renovated his stock of ideas, and to have picked up something congenial to his peculiar humour. The colonel had met with several old friends, and matters to be told, “wondrous and strange,” and quite out of the common, followed as a natural consequence. Grinnerson had had some “rare larks and sprees” ashore, and been “coming the old soldier” over some young hands at the Navy Tavern. Miss Dobbikins criticised rather severely (as her Bath experiences gave her every right to do) the tournure of the Madras belles, whom she had seen at balls and conversazione. Capt. Marpeet, who had been at sundry drills and reviews, favoured us with elaborate discussions on the military performances of the Mulls,[[4]] which he considered very inferior to those of the Qui hyes, by whom, to borrow his own nervous and expressive phraseology, “they were beaten by chalks.” Even the usually taciturn Grundy became eloquent, when he spoke of the luxuries of the tents, and his sufferings from the musquitoes; and as for myself, being of an artistical turn, I enlarged principally on the interesting character of Oriental scenery, but omitting, of course, some of the peculiar attractions of the “coco-nut grove.”
CHAPTER VI.
On leaving the roads of Madras, we bent our course to the eastward. For a day or two we had light winds and agreeable weather, and our gallant vessel glided on, under a cloud of snowy canvas, like some stainless swan before the dimpling breezes of a mountain tarn, little heeding the coming danger, which was to lay all her bravery low. Soon, however, a (by me) never-to-be-forgotten tornado, which I shall attempt to describe, burst in upon us in all its fury.
The first indication we had of the coming storm (being still but a short distance from Madras) was on the morning of the third day, when a few wild clouds began to scatter themselves over the face of the hitherto spotless sky. The breeze freshened, and an occasional squall made the good ship salaam deeply to the waves. Captain McGuffin looked to windward, shook his head, and appeared grave. He now (for there was evidently mischief brewing) held a brief consultation with Gillans, the chief mate, and then immediately ordered the small sails to be taken in. At about 8 P.M. of the same day, the fore and main topsails, as I was told, were double-reefed, and the mainsail and maintopsail furled. The next morning, the breeze still continued strong, and the albatrosses and gannets, heralds of the storm, skimmed wildly over the yeasty waves. A heavy and a turbulent sea now got up, which broke over the ship, causing her to roll heavily, and admit much water.
“We’re in for it, I’m afraid,” said Grinnerson to the first mate, “and no mistake.”
“You may say that, when you write home to your friends,” growled forth that sententious worthy; “I’d rather be looking at the end than the beginning of it, I can tell you.”
Scarcely were the words out of Gillan’s mouth, when a screeching blast flew through the shrouds and ratlines; “bang!” went one of the sails, with the report of a six-pounder, and the Rottenbeam Castle took a deep and fearful heel to leeward.
“How’s her head now?” said Gillans, with energy, starting up, to the man at the wheel.
“North-east, and by east, sir,” was the quick reply.