CHAPTER XII
After a short stay at the Balize, we put to sea once more, for the purpose, as it was understood, of touching at Havana, and then returning to New York. This was a cheerful voyage; the idea of a speedy return to America, spread a feeling of exquisite delight over the whole crew, and converted the performance of our duty into a pleasure. One effect was, to set those hands, who were gifted with the talent, so highly prized in a man of war, of “spinning yarns,” busily at work during every spare moment, when a group could be gathered to listen. Foremost among these intellectual time-killers was Richard Dickinson, a messmate of mine, a good-natured Englishman. He called himself the son of Old Dick, by which epithet he was usually called. Dick’s powers were now in great demand, and he exercised them to our universal satisfaction, but with how great regard for truth I cannot determine. It is probable, however, that truth entered very little into Dick’s productions. He was a sort of off-hand novelist; all he cared for was effect, and where truth failed him, fiction generously loaned her services. So bewitching were Dick’s stories, that I used to long for the hour when we could lay in our hammocks and listen. My first salutation, when we lay for the last time in the port of Havana, was, “Come, Dick, tell us a yarn.”
“What is the use? you will go to sleep,” he used to reply.
“No I won’t, Dick; I can listen to your yarns all night,” was my usual answer.
Dick would then begin some yarn, which, if not so interesting as the thousand-and-one stories in the Arabian Nights’ entertainments, was at least as true to nature, and, in respect to its humor, might be compared to some of the sayings of that illustrious personage, Sancho Panza, the renowned squire of the immortal Don Quixote; but, in spite of my promises, I usually gave notice of my condition after a short time, by performing a concord of nasal sounds, vulgarly called snoring, which would set Dick to swearing, and often put an end to his performances for the night.
I need scarcely say, that these “yarns” were by no means favorable in their moral effects on the listener. They generally consisted in fictitious adventures on the sea and on the shore, plentifully interlarded in their recital with profane oaths and licentious allusions. When seamen become elevated, and are properly instructed, these filthy stories will be superseded by reading good and useful literature, with an abundance of which every ship should be supplied by the benevolence of the Christian public.
On the passage to Havana, Dick and myself fell under the displeasure of the captain. We were stationed one night in the fore-top, where we were comfortably dozing away the time. The captain was on deck. The officer of the watch hailed the fore-top. We did not hear him until the call was repeated two or three times. For this we were ordered below, and told by the captain that we should be flogged the next day before the whole crew. With this consolatory information we returned to our station, without the least inclination to sleep again for that watch. With a sort of philosophic desperation, I laughed and said, “Dick, which would you rather do—have your grog stopped awhile, or take a flogging?”
Dick was very fond of his grog; so he replied, “Oh, I had rather they would stop my wind than my grog, and would sooner be flogged by considerable than lose that.” I question, however, if he had been left to choose between grog and whip at the gangway, whether he would not have altered his tone in favor of his grog. Still, his answer shows, how strongly sailors are attached to their beloved rum. I am happy to know that this regard is dying away, and that temperance is doing something among sailors. May it go on, until cold water is as popular in a man of war, as grog was twenty years since. We never heard, however, of our offence again. Dick was quite a favorite with the officers, and, except a blow in the head, given me by the captain, I had never been punished. Perhaps these were the reasons why we escaped the gangway.
At Havana we got a large amount of Spanish dollars aboard for some merchants in New York. These were smuggled from the shore. Our men were sent off in the boats, with their pockets and bosoms well stuffed with the precious metal; and in this way we soon got it all safely lodged in our hold, except that the captain’s servant, falling desperately in love with them, furnished himself with all he could carry, and ran away from the ship.
After adding to our freight of dollars a fine supply of oranges, lemons, pine-apples, &c., we cheerfully weighed anchor and set sail for New York. We reached that port after a short and prosperous voyage; meeting with no incident, except that the cold weather caused us a little suffering, and enabled the purser to add a few dollars to the profits of the voyage, by supplying us with a lot of red flannel shirts.