I was not quite satisfied with this answer, and determined to try and find out more of the matter by-and-by. The weather had been threatening for some hours, and towards evening the hands were turned up to reef topsails. Three reefs were at once taken in, and not a moment too soon. Down came the gale upon us. The big ship heeled over till the lower-deck ports were under water. The rolling seas tossed round her, and roared, as if eager to swallow her up. The wind whistled, the thunder growled, every now and then breaking overhead with tremendous rattles and crashes, and a pitchy darkness came down over the ocean, the occasional flashes of lightning only rendering the darkness still more dark. Before long we had our fore-topsail close reefed, three reefs in the main-top-sail, and mizen-topsail furled, and we were running dead before the gale, at not less than fifteen knots an hour. Mr Futtock said that we were going twenty; and, of course, I believed him; but I do not now, because I never found the fastest ship go so fast, and the old Roarer was, as the men said, a good one to fight, but not to go. In spite of the remarks I made of our captain, many of the men still held to the notion that there was more talk than do in him.
“Just a lady’s man—very fine to look at, with his cambric handkerchiefs and scent bottles, but you never get much out of such chaps.”
Officers little think how much they are discussed by the men. The second-lieutenant was thought still less of, and not without reason. He was fond of spouting poetry, and doing the polite to young ladies, whenever any came off to see the ship; but as to seamanship, he knew little about it. He often got the ship into a mess, but had no idea of getting her out of it again. Now, it happened to be his first watch; it had just struck eight bells. The starboard watch had been called, and a few minutes afterwards the other watch was mustered. During this time the rounds went to see all cleared up and safe below. The watch relieved was just turning in. Some already had their clothes off, when suddenly a fearful crashing sound was heard. No one knew what had happened, only that there was a feeling that the ship was in some awful danger. Not a word was heard from the officer of the watch. If we were in peril he was not going to take us out of it—so it seemed. Neither Punchon nor I had taken off our clothes, so we scrambled on deck to see what was the matter. A seaman will understand our position, when I say that the ship was taken right aback, and driving, stern first, at the rate of some twelve knots an hour, with the sea breaking over her poop, two-thirds of which were already under water. No one spoke; not an order was given. Suddenly, a loud voice was heard, shouting, “On deck, lads, for your lives?” and directly afterwards Ned Rawlings piped, “All hands save ship!” The crew were on deck almost before the sound of the pipe had died away; and again the same voice—we now knew it to be that of the captain—shouted, “Man the starboard fore-brace!” Officers, marines, any one who was near, grasped the rope, and hauled away on it with a will. The head yards were very soon braced right up, and the head sails took and filled at the very moment that the poop was nearly under water, and it seemed as if the ship was going bodily down. The main and cross-jack yards were soon braced round, and in less than a quarter of an hour from the time the wind had shifted we were braced sharp up on the starboard tack, and going seven knots through the water.
“We have had a merciful deliverance,” I heard old Futtock remark to the gunner a short time afterwards. “It’s not often that a ship gets into the position we were in and gets out of it. In another minute the sea would have been rushing right over the poop down on our quarter-deck, and it would have been all over with us. If Mr Muddlehead had had his wits about him, he would have braced the yards up the moment we were taken aback. A pretty go it would have been, if we had not been under snug sail. Why, we should have gone right down, stern foremost, and never have come up again. That’s been the fate of many a ship out in these parts, which has never since been heard of.”
“A fine fellow, our skipper,” I heard Mr Plumb observe to a messmate. “I really did think at first that the Brigadier and my mother would have had to bewail my loss. I am deeply indebted to him.”
A loud laugh followed the young gentleman’s remark. “Ha! ha! ha! Dicky, remember that all people are not taken at their own value,” exclaimed an old mate, who was fond of putting Mr Plumb down now and then. After this night our captain was more than ever respected by the crew, because he was now known to be a thorough seaman—a doer as well as a talker—and in consequence he maintained discipline on board without flogging and without difficulty.
We touched at the Cape, where Dicky Plumb really did go on shore and dine with the Governor, who happened to be a friend of his father’s, and he took good care afterwards to talk not a little about his visit to his messmates, and the way he was treated by the Governor.
I was at this time appointed to wait on the midshipmen, the boy I superseded being the unfortunate Jem Smudge.
“I don’t like having you to wait on us,” observed Mr Midshipman Plumb to me, one day soon after this. “I am afraid the fellows will be abusing you, and I could not stand that; but you must not mind it, if they do; and if you will bear abuse for a little time, I will manage to make all square in the end.”
“Do not trouble yourself about that, Master Richard,” I answered. “Depend upon it, I don’t care what the young gentlemen say to me. I intend to do my duty to them, and Sergeant Turbot says it will be all the better for me. So, whatever they say, let it pass. Don’t say anything for or against me.”