Full of the lucid information I had received, I returned to my messmates, who told me that, in spite of what the sergeant had said, they heard, positively, that Neptune and all his court were coming on board, either the next day or the following. Sure enough, Daddy did come on board, in right fashion, when the opportunity was taken of giving Dirty Jem a thorough washing, and punishing three or four other individuals in a rather unpleasant way, by cramming their mouths full of grease and pitch, under the pretence of lathering them, before being shaved by Neptune’s barber. I should say, that a lower studding-sail had been fastened up, in the form of a long bag, in the main deck, on the starboard side, and filled with water. The skid gratings had been taken off, so that, looking down from the starboard gangway, nothing but water was to be seen. Neptune and his wife made their appearance from forward, sitting on what they said was their chariot, but which looked like a gun-carriage. They had two infants, who put me wonderfully in mind of two small boys in our mess, while his wife had very much the appearance of Ned Rawlings; and I thought, too, I recognised the features of his secretary, his coachman, and barber. They were followed by a number of courtiers, and twenty-four bears, and as many constables. The chief business of the latter was to catch the fellows who were to be shaved and ducked. We boys were tossed about from side to side of the tank by the bears, they crying out, “He’s none of my child!” and very fortunate we thought ourselves when we got out again. The side being smooth and steep as an earthen pan, we were very much like rats caught in one. Besides Dirty Jem, the smaller, we had a big, hulking fellow—Michael Clack, by name. He was a dirty, lazy, lubberly fellow, disliked and despised by all the ship’s company. He had, from the first, I doubt not, a pretty good notion that he would receive no very delicate treatment from Neptune’s ministers, so he went and hid himself away, thinking that he might, perhaps, escape notice. He had been marked, however, from the first.
“Michael Clack! Michael Clack!” was soon called out by the secretary, and “Michael Clack! Michael Clack!” resounded along the decks. The constables searched for him everywhere, along each deck, behind every chest, and each store-room, and in each corner into which he could possibly have crept. At last, it was believed that he must have gone overboard. Still, as he had been seen by more than one of the boys scudding along the decks faster than he had ever been known to move before, the fact that he had gone overboard was doubted by a great many. At length, the constables instituted another search along the orlop deck, and in the cable tier. A shout proclaimed that Clack was found. He was stowed away in the coil of a cable, and a piece of canvas drawn neatly over him. He was dragged up, and placed on the plank before Neptune.
“You are a big, lazy, idle, mischievous, do-nothing rascal,” began his Majesty. “You deserve no good from any one, and you will get it, too, my hearty! Give him Number 1.” That was the roughest razor in use. “Plenty of lather! Lay it on thick!” Neptune’s ministers of justice did not require a second bidding. The moment the unhappy Clack opened his mouth to plead his cause, the tar-brush was run almost down his throat. His face was next covered with it, and scraped with a jagged razor, till the blood ran out in all directions. In this state he was tossed into the tank, and bandied about among the bears, every one of whom owed him a grudge, till some one cried out that he was done for. He had fainted, or, like the Australian dingo, had pretended to faint, and looked, indeed, as if he were dead. The captain, seeing what had happened, was very angry, and ordering him to be taken to the doctor, forbade the sports to be continued. Neptune and his secretary begged pardon as well as they could for what had happened, and he and his followers waddled forward, and disappeared over the bows. We heard that evening that Michael Clack was very ill, and there was a general idea that he was going to die. What the doctor thought about the matter I do not know.
Clack hated work, but he disliked nasty physic still more. This the doctor knew; and by giving him all the most nauseous draughts he could think of he soon got him out of the sick list. Clack, though out of the sick list, was very soon in the black list; and being shortly afterwards detected in helping himself to the contents of another man’s bag, he was adjudged by the captain to be placed in irons, to be kept in solitary confinement, and otherwise punished.
Chapter Five.
Across the Ocean.
Falling in at length with the north-east trade-winds, we stood towards the coast of South America, and entered Rio de Janeiro harbour, which was but very little, if anything, out of our course for the Cape of Good Hope. This will be seen by a glance at a map of the world, and ships, therefore, frequently touch there on their way to the regions beyond the Cape of Good Hope. It is a magnificent bit of water, surrounded by curiously-shaped mountains and peaks, with a big city on its shores, full of large streets and no end of churches. Sergeant Turbot took Tommy Punchon and me with him, to keep us out of mischief, though we would rather have gone alone to try and get into it. I was astonished at the quantity of black slaves, grunting and groaning away under their heavy loads. Still, they were ever ready for a joke, and the niggers we met with loads were merry laughing fellows, who went along singing and joking, as if no such thing as slavery existed. I might fill my journal with an account of the numberless curious things I saw on shore, but if I did I should have no space for my own adventures; so I will leave to others to give a description of Rio, and go on with my sea log.
That night, when we got on board again, Sergeant Turbot and the boatswain were walking the forecastle, and Punchon and I were standing not far off, when a splash was heard, and the sentry shouted out, “A man overboard!” He immediately fired, but did not hit the man, whose head I could see as I looked out from one of the ports as he struck out boldly for the land; there were plenty of sharks about, so that there was not much chance of his reaching it, even if he was allowed to go. The sentry’s shot was, however, followed by the officer of the watch calling away the second cutter. She was lowered and manned pretty quickly, and I watched her eagerly as she made chase after the fugitive. He was soon brought back, and proved to be no other than Michael Clack, who, taking advantage of the short interval when a prisoner is relieved from his manacles in the evening, had contrived to slip overboard. No one had supposed that he was a good swimmer, yet, to reach the shore, he must have been a first-rate one. Perhaps some friend had told him that an American vessel lay inside of us, and he hoped to reach her, when he would have been taken on board and concealed. He would, however, have been a somewhat dear bargain, if they had got him. We were soon again at sea, steering across the Atlantic for the Cape of Good Hope. I need scarcely say that soon after we got out of harbour Michael Clack got four dozen for his attempt at desertion. I am not going to describe the ceremony; it is a very unpleasant one for all hands concerned. Still, I must own, Master Michael got what he deserved.
“You have heard of good service stripes, may-be, Jack?” said the sergeant to me. “Those are what we call bad service stripes; and mind you, boy, never do anything to deserve them.”
I asked Sergeant Turbot if he could tell me anything of these trade-winds, which had been blowing so strong in our favour for so many days.
“That’s just what I have been talking to Futtock about,” he answered. “He and I make it out, that they always do blow in some parts from the north-east, and, further south, from the south-east. Why they blow thus, is more than I can tell you; but I’ve heard say, that they have got the name of trade-winds, because they help on traders in a voyage through the Atlantic.”