Chapter Nine.
A fight at sea.
The ocean continued so calm, that Larry was quite cock-a-hoop, thinking that he had become a perfect seaman. “I have heard tell, Maisther Terence, that the say runs mountains high, for all the world like the hills of Connemara, but I’m after thinking that these are all landsmen’s notions. We have been getting along for all the world like ducks in a pond.”
The very next day, Larry had a different tale to tell. In the morning the line-of-battle ships parted from us, and we, the Amethyst frigate, and the Piper corvette, had to continue our course alone, to protect our somewhat erratic convoy. Dark clouds were seen coming up from the north-west. The scud sped across the sky, the spin-drift flying over the fast-rising seas. In a short time the ship began to pitch into them as if determined to hammer them down, but they, not inclined to receive such treatment patiently, sent masses of spray flying over our bows, as if to show what they were capable of doing, should she persevere in her attempt. The merchantmen on all sides were bobbing away, and kicking up their sterns in the same comical fashion; and even the other frigate and corvette were playing similar pranks. The tacks were got aboard, however, and on we all went together, now heeling over when a stronger blast than usual struck us, till the water came hissing in at our main-deck ports. Sail after sail was taken off the ship. Now she rose almost on an even keel, and then again heeled over as before. The convoy followed our example, though not with the same rapidity. The sheets had been let go, and the sails of some were flying wildly in the breeze. Three or four lost their loftier masts and lighter spars, but they were still compelled to keep up by the signals which we or the Amethyst threw out. At length I had to go aloft. I could not say that I liked it. It seemed to me that with the eccentric rolls the ship was making, I might at any moment be jerked off into the seething ocean; but I recollected Tom Pim’s advice, and held on with teeth and eyelids. I got on, however, very well while I was aloft, and I managed somehow or other to reach the deck. Then—oh! how truly miserable I began to feel. Every moment I became worse and worse. As it happened, my watch was just over, and I descended to the berth. When I got there my head dropped on the table. I felt as I had never felt before; as utterly unlike as could be the brave Tipperary boy I fancied myself.
“Why, Paddy, what’s come over you?” exclaimed Nettleship, who had just then come below. “Why, you look as if you had heard the banshee howl, or dipped your face into a pot of white paint.”
“Oh! oh!” I exclaimed, my lip curling, and feeling the most miserable of human beings, so I fancied. I could utter no other articulate sound.
“Get up, youngster, and dance a hornpipe,” cried Nettleship; “or I’ll just send to the galley for a lump of fat pork, and if you’ll swallow an ounce or so, it will do you all the good in the world.”
The very mention of the fat pork finished me off. I bolted out of the berth, which was to windward, and went staggering away to the opposite side of the ship, having made a vain attempt to get to the main-deck, upsetting Tom Pim in my course, and not stopping till I pitched right against Doctor McCall, our surgeon, much after the manner that I had treated old Rough-and-Ready. Our good medico, not being so secure as the lieutenant on his pins, was unfortunately upset, and together we rolled into his dispensary, out of which he was at that moment coming. There we lay, amidst a quantity of phials, jars, and gallipots, which, having been improperly secured, came crashing down upon us. The doctor kicked and struggled, and endeavoured to rise, but I was too far gone to make any effort of the sort. Had he been inclined, he might have pounded me to death before I should have cried out for mercy. I was unable even to say that I could not help it, though he must have known that well enough. I need not describe what happened. Fortunately he had got to his feet before the occurrence to which I wish only delicately to allude took place. I felt wonderfully better.
“Why, Paddy, is it you, my boy?” he exclaimed, not a bit angry; for being a good-natured man, he was ready to make every allowance for the occurrence.
“I believe it’s myself, sir; though I’m not altogether clear about it,” I answered as I got up and tried to crawl out of the place.