Chapter Twelve.
Making “Westing.”
She was a fine-looking barque—as Sam had explained to me beforehand, when first telling me the news of his having secured a berth for me aboard her—with a good forecastle and clean run of deck aft to the poop, saving a small deck-house amidships, on a line with the cook’s caboose, where were the separate cabins devoted to the use of the boatswain and carpenter.
Captain Billings showed us over her, pointing out the special arrangements for the comfort of his officers; and then, much to my surprise, and to that of Sam as well, for that matter, although he had stipulated for good treatment on my behalf, the skipper said that I could have an empty bunk to myself, alongside of the boatswain’s quarters.
It was almost too good to be true!
“Why, laddie, you’ll be a blessed sight better off than if you were a middy aboard a man o’ war!” said Sam, exultantly; but, whilst he was engaged showing me how to put my chest and stow my things, so as to be easily within reach and yet out of the way, in order not to encroach on the limited space at my command, our attention was drawn away from the consideration of such personal matters by the loud hail of Captain Billings ringing through the ship fore and aft—
“All hands, make sail!”
The pilot had come off from shore in the same boat with us; and, as the only thing the Esmeralda had been awaiting was the water to rise sufficiently for her to cross the bar, Cardiff being a tidal harbour, now that it was approaching the flood, it was time to make ready for a start. We were going to make a move “while the day was yet young,” so to speak, for it was only about five o’clock yet in the afternoon.
On hearing the skipper’s cry, Sam and I at once made our way aft up the ladder on to the poop, where Captain Billings was standing, shouting out his orders, according to the directions of the pilot standing beside him—that gentleman, while in charge, being commanding officer, having the precedence of a captain even on board his own ship!
I was all eagerness to assist, and anxious to enter on my duties; but the skipper motioned me aside, saying that he’d put me into a watch and give me regular work to do as soon as we had got fairly to sea, for he “didn’t want any idlers hanging round them to encumber the men.” So, acting on the principle that “a nod was as good as a wink to a blind horse,” I sheered over to the other side of the deck. Here, Sam Pengelly was standing by the taffrail, and from this coign of vantage we both watched with much interest the operation of getting the ship under weigh.