It was not long before the yawl returned from the little schooner, laden with chests, bags, and bundles, and having on board the captain, four seamen, and the cook. The luggage was tumbled out of the boat in short order; my chest was deposited in the stern seats. I shook hands with my old shipmates, took an affectionate leave of Captain Thompson, who had always treated me with the kindness of a father, and entered the boat. Captain Moncrieff took one oar, I took another, and in a few minutes I stood on the deck of the Young Pilot. A tackle was hooked on to the yawl, which was, which was hoisted in and snugly stowed on deck; the helm was put up, the fore-sheet hauled to leeward, and, before I had time to realize this change in my situation, I found myself in a strange vessel, with strange companions, bound on a strange voyage to the Spanish Main.
Chapter XXI. ON BOARD THE YOUNG PILOT
After the vessels had separated and were rapidly increasing the space between them, I looked back upon the schooner Mary and recalled the many pleasant hours I had passed in that vessel, and asked myself if it would not have been better to have remained on board, trusting to the friendship of Captain Thompson and the promises of Mr. Jarvis. When I looked around, and fully comprehended the situation in which I had so unthinkingly placed myself, I saw little to give me consolation or encouragement. Captain Moncrieff was not prepossessing in his person or deportment. He was a tall, large-limbed Scotchman, about forty years of age, with light blue eyes and coarse, bloated features. He was abrupt in his language, had an exalted opinion of his merits and capacity, was always the hero of his own story; and, although he subsequently proved to be a man of generous feelings, to my unpractised optics he looked more like a bully than a gentleman.
Mr. Campbell, the mate, was also a Scotchman; but his appearance and character differed essentially from those of the captain. He was slightly built, with thin, pale features. There was nothing genial in his looks; and a certain vulpine cast of countenance, a low forehead, and a brow deeply wrinkled but not with age conveyed the idea of a selfish, narrow-minded individual.
With the exception of myself, there was no other person on board the pilot-boat. On acceding to the proposition of Captain Moncrieff, it escaped my notice that the cook was to leave the schooner with the rest of the crew. It now flashed across my mind, communicating any thing but a pleasurable sensation, that in addition to the ordinary duties of a seaman, I was expected to perform the part of that sable functionary. I therefore found myself monopolizing several responsible situations, and held at one and the same time the office of second mate, cook, and all hands.
In the novelty of my situation, however, I found a source of amusement; and the very uncertainty of the expedition, the singular manner in which I joined the pilot-boat, and the abundant cause I had for wondering "what would turn up next," imparted to the whole enterprise an unexpected charm. My duties, although various, were not arduous, but occupied a large portion of my time. The mate and myself stood watch by turns through the night, each steering the schooner his regular trick of four hours at a time. The captain seldom came on deck during the night, but enjoyed his rest of eight or ten hours undisturbed.
The Young Pilot steered so easily, the helmsman being snugly seated in the cuddy, that it was next to impossible for any one to remain four hours in that comfortable situation, in pleasant weather, with no one to converse with or even to look at, without falling asleep. Aware of the responsibility of my situation, and remembering the lesson I had received when lying at anchor inside of Charleston bar, I strove hard to resist the influence of the drowsy god, but was often compelled to nod to his dominion; and many a sweet and stolen nap have I enjoyed when stationed at the helm, and the vessel left entirely in my charge. Sometimes, on arousing myself from my slumbers, I found the rebellious little vessel running along four or five points off her course. In more than one instance, when the orders were to keep close-hauled, the schooner gradually fell off until she got before the wind, when the sails gibed, all standing, making a terrible clatter, and awakening not only myself, but the captain also, who, on coming on deck, must have divined the true state of things; but, with a degree of consideration which I could hardly have expected, and did not deserve, he never gave me a word of reproof. How these matters were managed by Mr. Campbell, I could never learn. He was one of those nervous, restless mortals who require but little sleep. It can hardly be doubted, however, that he sometimes fell asleep in his watch, and steered the schooner in every direction but the right one. This wild steering during the night will sufficiently account for a long passage, and errors in navigation. Dead reckoning is of little use when the courses and distances are not correctly noted. In the daytime, Captain Moncrieff would sometimes steer hours at a time, especially when I was employed in other business or taking a nap below.
The most unpleasant duty I was expected to perform was that of cooking. I had never been inducted into the mysteries of that art, and was disgusted with its drudgeries. While in the Dolphin, with Captain Turner, I tried my hand at cooking more than once, when the cook had been so badly flogged as to be unable to perform his duties. But I gained no laurels in that department. Indeed, dissatisfaction was expressed in the forecastle and the cabin at the bungling and unartistic style in which I prepared the food on those occasions. In the Young Pilot I succeeded but little better; and the captain, who was something of an epicure in his way, whenever a good cup of coffee was required for breakfast, or a palatable dish for dinner, released me from my vocation for the time, and installed himself in the camboose. And it would have been amusing to a looker-on, to see the big, burly Scotchman steaming over the fire and smoke, rattling the pans and kettles, and compounding various materials, while I sat quietly at the helm, watching his operations, and thanking my stars that I had no genius for cooking.
The greatest cause I had for disquiet on this passage was the want of society. The captain and mate could spin their yarns and discuss subjects of nautical philosophy; but the mate, naturally unsocial and taciturn, seldom spoke to me, and the captain never honored me by entering into familiar conversation, excepting when he had indulged in an extra glass, and Mr. Campbell was not on deck. At such times, being in a garrulous humor, he would, as a sort of "Hogson's choice," address himself to me, and rattle off narratives of adventures of the most astounding description.