"Now, one day, the third voy'ge from that time, no sooner does we get up to Blackwall than we hears of a strong press from the men-o'-war; and as I'd got a desperate mislike to the sarvice, there was a lot of us marchantmen kept stowed away close in holes an' corners till we could suit ourselves. At last we got well tired, and a shipmate o' mine and I wanted to go and see our sweethearts over in the town. So we hired the slops from a Jew, and makes ourselves out to be a couple o' watermen, with badges to suit, a-carrying of a large parcile and a ticket on it. In the afternoon we came back again within sight of the Tower, where we saw the coast was clear, and makes a fair wind along Rosemary Lane and Cable Street. Just then we saw a tall young fellow, in a brown coat, an' a broad-brim hat, a-standing in the door of a shop, with a paper under his arm, on the look-out for someone. 'Twig the Quaker, Bob!' my shipmate says to me. As soon as he saw us, out the Quaker steps, and says he to Bill, in a sleepy sort of a v'ice, 'Friend, thou'rt a waterman, I b'lieve?' 'Yes,' says Bill, with an oath, 'that's what we hails for. D'ye want a boat, master?' 'Swear not, friend,' says the broad-brim; 'but what I want is this, you see. We have a large vessel, belonging to our house, for to send to Havannah, and willin' to give double wages, but we can't find any marineers at this present time for to navigate. Now,' says he, 'I s'pose this onfortunate state o' things is on account of the sinful war as is a-goin' on—they're afraid of the riskses. Hows'ever, my friends,' says he, 'perhaps, as you knows the river, thee could put us upon a way of engagin' twenty or more bold marineers, as is not afeared of venturing for good pay?' and with this he looks into his papers; and says Bill, 'Well, sir, I don't know any myself—do you, Bob?' and he gives me a shove, and says under the rose, 'No fear, mate,' says Bill, 'he's all over green—don't slip the chance for all hands of us at Jobson's.' 'Why, master,' I says, 'what 'ud ye give them marineers you speaks on, now?' 'Four pound a month, friend,' says he, looking up; 'but we gives tea in place of spirits, and we must have steady men. We can't wait, neither,' says he, 'more nor three days, or the vessel won't sail at all.' 'My eye!' says Bill, ''twon't do to miss, Bob!—stick to him, that's all.' 'Well, sir,' I says, 'I thinks I does have a notion of some'at of the sort. If you sends your papers to Jobson's Tavern to-night, second lane 'twixt Barnaby Street and the Blue Anchor Road, over the water, why, I might get ye as many hands for to sign as you wants.' 'Thanks, friend,' says the young broad-brim, 'I will attend to thine advice.' So he bids us good-day, and stepped into his door again. 'Bill,' says I, as we went off, 'now I think on it, I can't help a notion I've seen that chap's face afore.' 'Very like,' says Bill; 'for the matter o' that, 'tis the same with me—them broad-brims is so much of a piece. But that 'ere fellow don't know nothin' of ships, sure enough, or he wouldn't offer what he did, and the crimps' houses all of a swarm with hands!'
"'Take my word, mate,' says I, 'it's a paying trip, or he wouldn't do it—leave a Quaker alone for that. Why, the chap's a parfit youngster, but I am blessed if he don't look as starched as if he'd sat over a dask for twenty year!'
"Well, strike me lucky, mates all, if the whole affair warn't a complete trap! Down comes a clerk with the papers, sure enough; but in ten minutes more the whole blessed lot of us was puckalowed, and hard an' fast, by a strong press-gang. They put us into a cutter off Redriff Stairs, and the next noon all hands was aboard of the Pandora frigate at Sheerness. The first time of being mustered on deck, says Bill to me, 'Cuss my eyes, Bob, if there isn't the 'farnal Quaker!' I looked, and sees a midshipman in uniform like the rest, and so it was. 'The sly, soft-sawderin' beggar!' says I. 'All fair in war, and a press, mate!' says one o' the frigate's men. All the while I kept looking and looking at the midshipman; and at last I says to Bill when we got below, giving a slap to my thigh, 'Blessed if it ain't! It's the Green Hand himself!' 'Green Hand!' says Bill, sulky enough, 'who's the Green Hand? Blow me, Bob, if I don't think we're the green hands ourselves, if that's what you're upon!' So I told him the story about Ned Collins. 'Well,' says he, 'if a fellow was green as Chinee rice, cuss me if the reefers' mess wouldn't take it all out on him in a dozen watches. The softest thing I know, as you say, Bob, just now, it's to come the smart hand when you're a lubber; but to sham green after that style, ye know, why, it is a mark or two above either you or I, messmate. So, for my part, I forgives the young scamp, 'cause I ought to ha' known better.'
"By the time the frigate got to sea the story was blowed over the whole main-deck; many a good laugh it gived the different messes; and Bill, the midshipman, and me, got the name of the 'Three Green Hands.'
"One middle-watch Mister Ned comes for'ard by the booms to me, and says he, 'Well, Bob Jacobs, you don't bear a grudge, I hope?' 'Why,' says I, 'Mister Collins, 'twould be mutiny now, I fancy, you being my officer.' So I gave a laugh; but I couldn't help feelin' hurt a little, 'twas so like a son turnin' against his father, as 'twere. 'Why, Bob,' says he, 'did ye think me so green as not to know a seaman when I saw him? I was afeared you'd know me that time.' 'Not I, sir,' I answers; 'why, if we hadn't sailed so long in company, I wouldn't know ye now!' So Master Ned gived me to understand it was all for old times he wanted to ship me in the same craft; but he knew my misliking to the sarvice, though he said he'd rather ha' lost the whole haul of 'em nor myself. So many a yarn we had together of a dark night, and for a couple of years we saw no small sarvice in the Pandora. But if ye'd seen Ned, the smartest reefer aboard, and the best liked by the men, in the fore-tops'l bunt in a gale, or over the main-deck hatch, with an enemy's frigate to leeward, or on a spree ashore at Lisbon or Naples, you wouldn't ha' said there was anything green in his eye, I warrant ye! He was made acting-leftenant of a prize he cut out near Chairboorg, before he passed examination; so he took me for his prize-bo'sun, and carried her into Plymouth. Soon after that the war was ended, and all hands of the Pandora paid off. Master Ned got passed with flying colours, and confirmed leftenant besides, but he had to wait for a ship. He made me say where I'd be found, and we parted company for about a year.
"Well, I was come home from a short trip, and one day Leftenant Collins hunts me up at Wapping Docks, where I'd had myself spliced, six years before, to Betsy Brown, an' was laid up for a spell, having seen a good deal of the sea. Ye must know the young leftenant was fell deep in love with a rich Indy naboob's daughter, which had come over to take her back to the East Ingees. The old fellow was hard close-hauled again the match, notwithstanding of the young folks makin' it all up; so he'd taken out berths aboard of a large company's ship, and bought over the captain on no account to let any king's navy man within the gangways, nor not a shoulder with a swab upon it, red or blue, beyond the ship's company. But, above all, the old tyrant wouldn't have a blue-jacket, from stem to starn, if so be he'd got nothing ado but talk sweet; I s'pose he fancied his girl was mad after the whole blessed cloth. The leftenant turns over this here log to me, and, says he, 'I'll follow her to the world's end, if need be, Bob, and cheat the old villain!' 'Quite right, too, sir,' says I. 'Bob,' says he,' I'll tell you what I wants you for to do. Go you and enter for the Seringapatam at Blackwall, if you're for sea just now; I'm goin' for to s'cure my passage myself, an' no doubt doorin' the voy'ge something'll turn up to set all square; at any rate, I'll stand by for a rope to pull!' 'Why, here's a rum go!' thinks I to myself. 'Is Ned Collins got so green again, spite of all that's come and gone, for to think the waves is a-goin' to work wonders, or ould Neptune under the line's to play the parson and splice all!' 'Well, sir,' I says, 'but don't you think the skipper will smoke your weather-roll, sir, at sea, as you did Bill Pikes an' me, you know, sir?' says I. 'Oh, Bob, my lad,' says the leftenant, 'leave you that to me. The fellow most onlikest to a sailor on the Indyman's poop will be me, and that's the way you'll know me.'
"Well, ship I does with the Seringapatam for Bombay—plenty of passengers she had; but only clerks, naboobs, old half-pay fellows, and ladies, not to speak o' children and nurses, black and white. She sailed without my seein' Leftenant Collins, so I thought I was to hear no more on it. When the passengers began to muster on the poop, by the time we got out o' Channel, I takes a look over the ladies, in coilin' up the ropes aft, or at the wheel; I knowed the said girl at once by her good looks, and the old fellow by his grumpy, yallow frontispiece. All on a sudden I takes a note of a figger coming up from the cuddy, which I made out at once for my Master Ned, spite of his wig and a pair o' high-heeled boots, as gave him the walk of a chap a-treading amongst eggs. When I hears him lisp out to the skipper at the round-house if there was any fear of wind, 'twas all I could do to keep the juice in my cheek. Away he goes up to windward, holding on by everything, to look over the bulwarks behind his sweetheart, givin' me a glance over his shoulder. At night I see the two hold a sort of collogue abaft the wheel, when I was on my trick at the helm. After awhile there was a row got up amongst the passengers, with the old naboob and the skipper, to find out who it was that kept a-singing every still night in the first watch, alongside of the ladies' cabin, under the poop. It couldn't be cleared up, hows'ever, who it was. All sorts o' places they said it comed from—mizzen-chains, quarter-galleries, lower-deck ports, and davit-boats. But what put the old hunks most in a rage was, the songs was every one on 'em such as 'Rule Britannia,' 'Bay of Biscay,' 'Britannia's Bulwarks,' and 'All in the Downs.' The captain was all at sea about it, and none of the men would say anything, for by all accounts 'twas the best pipe at a sea-song as was to be heard. For my part, I knowed pretty well what was afloat. One night a man comed for'ard from the wheel, after steering his dog-watch out, and 'Well, I'm blessed, mates,' says he on the foc'sle, 'but that chap aft yonder with the lady—he's about the greenest hand I've chanced to come across. What d'ye think I hears him say to old Yallow-chops an hour agone?' 'What was it, mate?' I says. 'Says he, "Do you know, Sar Chawls, is the hoshun reelly green at the line—green ye know, Sar Chawls, reelly green?" "No, sir," says the old naboob, "'tis blue." "Whoy, ye don't sa—ay so!" says the young chap, pullin' a long face.' 'Why, Jim,' another hand drops in, 'that's the very chap as sings them first-rate sea-songs of a night. I seed him myself come out o' the mizzen-chains!' 'Hallo!' says another at this, 'then there's some'at queer i' the wind! I thought he gave rather a weather-look aloft, comin' on deck i' the morning. I'll bet a week's grog that chap's desarted from the king's flag, mates!' Well, ye know, hereupon I couldn't do no less nor shove in my oar, so I takes word from all hands not to blow the gaff, [1] an' then gives 'em the whole yarn to the very day, about the Green Hand—for somehow or another I was al'ays a yarning sort of a customer. As soon as they heard it was a love consarn, not a man but swore to keep a stopper on his jaw; only, at findin' out he was a leftenant in the Royal Navy, all hands was for touching hats when they went past.
"Hows'ever, things went on till we'd crossed the line a good while; the leftenant was making his way with the girl at every chance. But, as for the old fellow, I didn't see he was a fathom the nearer with him; though, as the naboob had never clapped eyes on him to know him like, 'twan't much matter before heaving in sight o' port. The captain of the Indyman was a rum, old-fashioned codger, all for plain sailing and old ways—I shouldn't say overmuch of a smart seaman. He read the sarvice every Sunday, rigged the church an' all that, if it was anything short of a reef-taups'l breeze. 'Twas queer enough, ye may think, to hear the old boy drawling out, 'As 'twas in the beginning—'then, in the one key, 'Haul aft the mainsheet——' 'is now, and ever shall be——' 'Small pull with the weather brace——' 'Amen——' 'Well the main-yard——' 'The Lord be with you——' 'Taups'l yard well!' As for the first orficer, he was a dandy, know-nothing young blade, as wanted to show off before the ladies; and the second was afraid to call the nose on his face his own, except in his watch; the third was a good seaman, but ye may well fancy the craft stood often a poor chance of being rightly handled.
"'Twas one arternoon watch, off the west coast of Africay, as hot a day as I ever mind on, we lost the breeze with a swell, and just as it got down smooth, land was made out, low upon the starboard bow, about south-east-and-by-sou', as near as may be. The captain was turned in sick below, and the first orficer on deck. I was at the wheel myself, and I hears him say to the second as how the land breeze would come off at night. A little after, up comes Leftenant Collins, in his black wig and his 'long-shore hat, an' he begins to squint over the starn to nor'west'ard. 'Jacobs, my lad,' whispers he to me, 'how do ye like the looks o' things?' 'Not overmuch, sir,' says I; 'small enough sea-room, leastways for a sky like that 'ere.' Up goes he to the first officer, after a bit. 'Sir,' says he, 'do ye notice how we've risen the land within the last hour and a half?' 'No, sir,' says the first mate. 'What d'ye mean?' 'Why, there's a current here, takin' us inside the point,' says he. 'Sir,' says the Company's man, 'if I didn't know what's what, d'ye think I'd learn it off a gentleman as is so confounded green? There's nothing of the sort,' he says. 'Look on the starboard quarter, then,' says the leftenant, 'at the man-o'-war bird afloat yonder with its wings spread. Take three minutes' look!' says he. Well, the mate did take a minute or two's squint through the mizzen-shroud, and pretty blue he got, for the bird came abreast of the ship by that time.
"'It's a underdrift,' says the leftenant, wonderful knowing-like—'though it's nothing on the surfage, look ye, why, with the draught the ship has it's a-taking her along like a tideway, below! Now, d'ye think you'd weather that there point two hours after this, if a gale come on from the nor'-west, sir?' 'Well,' says the first mate, 'I dare say we shouldn't—but what of that?' 'Why, if you'd cruised for six months off the coast of Africa, as I've done,' says the leftenant, 'you'd think there was something ticklish about that white spot in the sky, to nor'-west! But on top o' that, the weather-glass is fell a good bit since four bells.' 'Weather-glass!' the mate says, 'why, that don't matter much in respect of a gale, I fancy.' Ye must understand, weather-glasses wan't come so much in fashion at that time, except in the Royal Navy. 'Sir,' says the mate again, 'mind your business, if you've got any, and I'll mind mine!' 'If I was you,' the leftenant says, 'I'd call the captain.' 'Thank ye,' says the mate—'call the captain for nothing!' Well, in an hour more the land was quite plain on the starboard bow, and the mate comes aft again to Leftenant Collins. The clouds was beginning to grow out of the clear sky astarn too. 'Why, sir,' says the mate, 'I'd no notion you was a seaman at all! What would you do yourself now, supposin' the case you put a little ago?' 'Well, sir,' says Mr Collins, 'if you'll do the thing, I'll put ye up to it at once——'"