My First Voyage to Southern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Mr Vernon’s character as a minister of the gospel now appeared to great advantage. Fearless himself, he went among the sick and dying, encouraging, consoling, and warning. Many of those who had before refused his ministrations now listened to him eagerly. Vain they felt was any hope in man. He offered foundation for hope, but it was from above. Fond of science as he was, all his scientific pursuits were now laid aside that he might devote himself to the duties of his far higher ministerial calling.

Mr Grimes made his appearance on deck before the captain. He could scarcely be persuaded that some days had passed while he was below, and was much puzzled to account for it. He thought that he had had the fever, but never appeared to suspect the true cause of his illness, till, asking for his sextant, the fragments were brought him by the steward, who minutely explained how it had been broken. Then the truth burst on him, but it did not make him at all ashamed; he only became more savage and tyrannical. I felt very sure that, although I had hitherto enjoyed a tolerable immunity from ill-treatment, my time would come before long.

For some days, though the people continued sickly, death had not visited us, and the spirits of the crew and passengers rose accordingly. The great desire was to get a breeze. Sailors have a trick of whistling when they want wind—trick it is, because very few really believe that their whistling will bring a wind. It was amusing to see everybody whistling; the boys forward took it up—the passengers aft; the gruff old boatswain was whistling more furiously than anybody, but I saw him cock his eye knowingly at some clouds gathering to the northward. Just then, as I was looking aloft, I saw a bird pitch on the fore-topgallant yard-arm.

“A booby! a booby!” was the cry.

Tommy Bigg was in the fore-top, sent up for something or other, and the desire to possess the bird seized him. Any incident, however light, creates a sensation in a calm. All eyes were directed towards Tommy and the bird. It was a great doubt whether the latter would not fly away, however, before Tommy got him.

“What is it you are looking at?” asked Sills, just then coming on deck.

“A booby, lad,” answered the doctor, to whom he spoke regarding him calmly; whereat Broom and Waller laughed, but Sills only said: “See now, what’s that?” and looked up at the yard-arm whereon the bird sat perched.

“We’ve two of them aboard just now,” observed Broom, who never lost an opportunity of having a fling at his chum.

Tommy had reached the cross-trees: now he had his feet on the topgallant yard. He looked at the booby, and the booby looked at him, as much as to say, “What do you want with me?” but had not the sense to make use of his wings. A great ado and discussion arose among the passengers, as to whether boy or bird would prove the victor. Tommy worked his way along the foot-ropes, holding on tightly with one hand while he lifted up the other, and down it came on the neck of the bird. Tommy in triumph brought him on deck, and in spite of the grabs made at him by the seamen, succeeded in conveying him safely to me.

“There, sir, you’d like to have a look at that thing,” said he, putting the poor bird, whose windpipe he had pressed so tightly that it had little power to struggle, into my hands.