For some days after this we constantly saw ice. One Sunday afternoon, my watch on deck, it was misty, and we continually sighted the heads of bergs in more or less close proximity. There was a strong following wind, but the old man took in the mizzen-royal and crossjack, and, telling me that he had snugged the ship down for me, went below to sleep the sleep of perfect peace. With the gaudy confidence of youth, however, this did not give me any immediate concern.
But we did carry canvas, and I should hesitate to say how many topmast-stunsail-booms we carried away. We had got into a streak of fair wind, varying from N.W. to S.W., and made the most of it. The watch on deck was frequently occupied with draw knives helping the carpenter make new booms to replace those that went, but after a few days of this work it began to pall upon the crew, who lacked the accustomed stimulus to their exertions as supplied by a “heftier” school of mates, and for some days the men would not come out of the forecastle. The ship in the meantime was worked by the apprentices and afterguard. This was not an uncommon occurrence at the time, and should have been cured by the administration or threat of a few leaden pills, but before the old man made up his mind to apply this remedy the crew turned to again. They had secured a store of biscuits, but were unable to cook anything below, and this brought them to reason.
In the last chapter I mentioned the sort of custom that existed when there was any serious friction between the men in the forecastle and any particular officer. If action was deliberately decided upon, the development would be something on the following lines. At 4.30 a.m. it was the custom for the watch on deck to have their morning coffee. This is a sustenance that is very greatly appreciated in all ships, and I can remember that my friend Mr. Clark Russell enlarges more than once in his inimitable books upon its advantages. At 5 a.m. when the watch commenced to wash decks, one man would come aft to relieve the man at the wheel to go and get his coffee. I have not previously mentioned the custom of the sea which reserved the weather side of the poop for the captain or officer of the watch, whichever might be in possession (if the captain came on deck the officer of the watch would cross over to the lee side), but by reason of this custom if a man were out looking for trouble he would attempt to come aft on the weather side of the poop to relieve the wheel. The officer of the watch would then meet him at the head of the poop-ladder with, “Go up the lee side, you ——;” that is left blank for the reader to fill in the precise amount of profanity or warmth that had been previously generated, and consequently brought about the breach of the peace which was now certain to follow. Curious ways sailors have!
Well, in that telepathic manner in which news spreads on board ship, the hands got to know that I was not a believer in half measures where refractory men were concerned, and my watch laid themselves out to see how much trouble they could give me. They really succeeded in a most creditable manner, and the result of a little difference of opinion that became manifest, concerning the setting of a lower stunsail one middle watch, was that when the mate came on deck to relieve me he found me insensible and covered with snow. I had been rather badly manhandled, and when next I looked at my face in the glass it was not by any means a thing of beauty; in fact, I carry the scars to-day. Worst of all they were very manifest when I had to again face my refractory watch, but there was no help for it; we were making a splendid passage, and the old man was for peace at any price.
We made the run from the meridian of the Cape to Adelaide in twenty days, which was very fair work, and duly docked the ship and started to discharge cargo. There was, however, to be another unpleasant little episode before the crew were finished with, and to this day I laugh at the remembrance of the mate’s coat-tails streaming behind him as he rushed forward one afternoon with a hammer in his hand, to take vengeance on some man who had aroused his ire. I forget what it was all about, but the men came aft in a body bent on mischief. The ship was alongside the wharf, the old man was on shore, and there was a crowd of onlookers from other ships, when the mate left to fetch the police. I was being roughly handled, but putting up the best fight I could, when, seeing the captain of another ship looking on, I shouted to him to ask what I was to do. “Get a cutlass and smash their skulls for them,” was the answer I got, and with one in my fist I escaped further trouble. The police came down and marched the lot off to jail, and on the next day I fancy they got three months a-piece. There was a Captain Douglas, R.N., acting as one of the magistrates on the bench, and he appeared highly interested in learning the manners and customs which had obtained on board the Lord of the Isles.
Our stay in port after this was most agreeable; I renewed acquaintance with many old friends, and when it was time to depart did so with regret. There is a certain great artist alive to-day, who may remember an episode concerning a letter and an old boot. Do you, Mortimer Menpes? I have not forgotten.
Some pains were taken to get a decent crew together. We were towed to the outer anchorage, there to await their arrival, for we were to sail for Newcastle, N.S.W., in ballast and then take a cargo of coal for Manilla, where we were to load for home. The mate and I had by this time made up our minds that if there was to be any more hammering done we were not intending to play the passive part.
It is very curious how these things happen. The cook was the only bit of the old leaven that was left, and there was no love lost between him and the steward. The first morning we were at anchor outside, the steward, who was a very good-looking fellow, went forward to the galley to get early morning coffee for the mate and me. While it was preparing in the customary saucepan, the cook blew upon the rising steam to see if the preparation was boiling.
“Don’t blow on the coffee, cook,” said the steward.
“Shall if I like!” replied the cook.