I felt very sad when we passed the Caribas. I found her moored in a new slip, cut for her reception in the floating debris. Several chains had been cast over the bow and stern, attaching her to stumps and trees firmly imbedded in the surrounding sod. I scrutinized the dear old craft thoroughly. Nothing was changed about her.
It was a mere fancy, but I imagined that she knew me!
On her deck were strange faces, all bearing the stamp of the Sargasson race. I was curious to learn who was occupying my cabin and sleeping in my berth, but the man in the boat with me could not, or would not, impart any information.
We reached the kitchen ship about 11 o’clock, and I was soon on board.
I have seen many strange places afloat and ashore, but none so thoroughly novel as was that vessel. Its main deck contained a series of rude furnaces and ovens, about which fifty men busied themselves preparing the food for the floating city. The work must have been very warm in hot weather and very dangerous to health in the cold season. I visited the lower decks and witnessed the reception of the seaweed, its assortment into fuel and food, and studied every stage of its preparation for the messroom. The great problem on board that ship was the procurement of fresh water, with which the cooking, obviously, had to be done. Several large condensers were set up and ready for use, but I could not discover that fires had ever been built under them. Most of the fresh water was caught from the skies upon a great awning of shellacked matting suspended over the masts. This awning was concave in shape, exceeding the deck area of the vessel, and was capable of catching a great deal of water from the skies. As it rained every second or third day, and the downpour sometimes equaled an inch and a half to two inches in half an hour, as shown by the rain gauge, the great tanks in the centre of the hulk were constantly kept filled.
As a rule, the Sargassons ate only one meal a day. This was partaken of on each ship in two messes, one consisting of the crew and the other of the officers.
The Kantoon of the Happy Shark, respecting the fact that I had been the commander of the Caribas, always insisted upon my dining with his daughter, himself and first and second mates. The service was of the rudest possible character. All surrounded a large porridge dish, and each person helped himself or herself therefrom. When the number of persons about to dine exceeded five or six there were two bowls or more of this glutinous material. One fish was always regarded as a portion. The fish were laid upon the deck on the usual strip of matting, and each diner helped himself or herself.
As I have stated, fish formed a staple article of diet, and it was prepared very much as dried herrings are put up in the English seaport towns. Long rows of men were seen cleaning and dressing the fish, which were then placed in an oven, through which hot air from the furnaces passed. Thus they were slowly dried, like our desiccated fruits in the United States. The oil was rendered out, and found its way to a tank, where it was kept for greasing shark and porpoise leather.
In this floating kitchen I discovered an article of diet I had never before encountered. It was a sort of wild rice or wheat, that was boiled in the grain and then hastily dried. In this condition it would keep for years. I afterward became very fond of this food, and was surprised to learn that it was not liked on board the Happy Shark. It had the taste of parched corn, upon which I know the soldiers in our armies had sustained life for months together.
The equipment of the cook ship was kept up by details of men sent from time to time from the various communities. But some of the older men had grown very expert, and occasionally concocted special dishes for the Kantoon of the vessel from which they had been originally drafted, hoping in this way to ingratiate themselves with him.