Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches

by George Manville Fenn

But things soon turned unpleasant; we had a fresh captain, whom I’ll call Captain Strangeways, and very soon the cat began to be at work. Times were, of course, that men would buy each other’s grog, and have a little more than they should, and then, instead of a mild punishment, and a trial at reforming such men, it was flogging; and instead of this doing any good, it made the men worse, and drunkenness more frequent, till the floggings used to be constant, and instead of our ship being about the smartest afloat, I believe she grew to be one of the most slovenly, and the men took a delight in annoying the captain and officers.

In the very low latitudes, where the heat is sometimes terribly hard to bear, it is the custom to have what we call a windsail, that is a regular great canvas pipe, hung so that one end goes down the hatchways, while the other is tied up to the rigging; and of a hot night the cool current that came down would be delightful. But down on the main-deck, with perhaps four hundred men sleeping, even this would not be enough, and we used to sleep with the ports open. But this displeased the captain; for in other latitudes the custom was to shut the ports down at eight o’clock at night, and he, accordingly, gave orders that this should be kept up; so at eight o’clock one night, watch was set, and all the ports were closed.

Phew! I can almost feel it now. Why, it was stifling. We could hardly breathe; and first one and then another jumped out of his hammock, and opened a port, and then we had no end of palavering, for the men were regularly unanimous over it, that we could not bear the heat; and the consequence was, that we made our arrangements for a bit of a breeze next night.

Eight o’clock came, and we were lying at anchor off Callao. Gun-fire—and then at the order down went the ports, and then all was darkness; but at the next moment, there was the chirping of the whistles of the boatswain’s mates; and so well had the men worked together, and made their plans, that up flew all the ports again directly.

Then the row began; the officers got alongside the captain, the marines were called aft, and then lanterns ranged along the quarter deck, and the men summoned and ranged across in a gang several deep. The captain raged and stormed. He’d flog every man on board, and—

“Crash!” There was a lantern down; some one out of the tops had thrown a big ball of spunyarn of the size of a Dutch cheese, and knocked the light over.

—He’d have the man in irons that threw that ball.

“Crash—crash—crash!” there came a regular volley, and every lantern was knocked off and rolled about the deck.

“Marines! up the rigging, there, into the mizen and main tops!” shouted the captain, “and bring those men down.” When up went the Johnnies, of course, very slowly, for they couldn’t climb a bit, while the men were down the sheets in an instant, and behind the others on deck.

Then the captain had a few words with the first lieutenant, and the men were piped down; and the ports not being touched, all seemed to be pretty quiet, when the officers collected together in the gun-room, and began talking the matter over—some at chess, and some at their grog; but the game was not quite over, for the men were just ripe for a bit of mischief, and fast working themselves up into that state when mutinies take place. All at once, when everything seemed at its quietest, there was a shrill chirrup; and then a number of the biggest shot were set rolling out of their racks right along the deck, as it sloped down towards the gun-room door.