Roger Willoughby: A Story of the Times of Benbow

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“No, sir, but I have studied navigation, and I want to put my knowledge into practice.”

“Well, now is the time; let us see how you do it.”

Roger “shot the sun” in very good style; not only did that, but rapidly worked out the calculation on a small piece of paper, and it exactly agreed with that taken by the Captain, who looked well pleased, but it differed from that of one of the mates, who had made a mistake.

“You will do, my boy,” said Captain Roberts. “I will try you with other observations by and by. Where did you get your knowledge?” Roger told him. “What, from old Trickett? No wonder you are correct; there is not a better navigator in Bristol.”

Next day Stephen brought out his quadrant and did justice to his instructor, he also receiving a due amount of praise from the Captain. The mates looked rather jealous at the two youngsters, who had never before been to sea, who took observations as well as they could. Before the Dolphin had got half-way across the Bay of Biscay it fell calm, and she lay laving her sides in the smooth water, as the swell, which is seldom wanting there, passed under her keel. For many hours she did not move her position; the big mizzen, which had been flapping with reports like thunder, was furled; the other sails were brailed up. Roger, who was always of a social disposition, took the opportunity of having a talk with some of the crew. Among them was a black, who, although still very young, being scarcely more than a boy, had met with many strange adventures,—among others, he had been made prisoner by the Moors. He could talk Arabic, he said, as well as English, which was not, by the by, very correctly. He was called Jack Jumbo on board, but he preferred being called Felix, a name, he told Roger, some gentlemen had given him because he was always a merry fellow. He hinted that he had been a prince in his own country, but he had been carried away at an early age; he did not know much about it. Roger took a great liking to him, for from his intelligence and good disposition he was a better companion than the rough seamen who formed the crew of the Dolphin. The only other person who need be named was Sam Stokes, an old sailor who had fought under Blake and Admiral Penn, had made half a dozen voyages to Virginia and the West India Islands, besides to many others in different parts of the world. He was rough enough to look at, being the colour of mahogany, his countenance wrinkled and furrowed by strong winds and hot suns. He was quiet in his manners, seemed kind-hearted, with plenty of sense under his bald head and its fringe of grizzled hair. He was an excellent seaman, and took a pleasure in instructing Roger, who always went to him when he wanted information. He would tell him not only how to do a thing, but the why and the wherefore each thing was done, so that Roger made rapid progress under his tuition. Of the mates and boatswain little need be said; they were tolerable seamen, but the first two were but poor navigators, and the boatswain could not take an observation or work a day’s work, being unable to read or write, though he was the best seaman of the three. The crew were rough-and-ready fellows, were tolerably obedient when they were well treated and liquor was kept out of their way; but if anything was done to displease them, they were ready to grumble and try to right themselves after their own fashion. The two mates and the boatswain, who constituted the officers of the ship, were somewhat jealous of Stephen and Roger, whom they considered unduly favoured by the owners. Neither of them, however, took any notice of this. Roger’s great object had been from the first to master all the details of seamanship. From morning till night he was at work getting the seamen to show him how to knot and splice, to steer and reef; whenever sail was to be made or taken in he was always on the yard, and as active as any one, so that he soon gained the respect of the seamen. It was a great advantage to him and Stephen to have fine weather for so long a period, though they made but slow progress on their voyage, but it enabled them to gain experience far more easily than they would have done had the sea been rough and the ship tumbling about. Owing to light and contrary winds, five weeks had passed before the Dolphin got into the latitude of the Straits, nearly a hundred miles to the westward of them.

“When, Captain Roberts, think you, shall we be into the Mediterranean?” asked Stephen, who had been examining the chart.

“That must depend on the way the wind blows,” answered the Captain. “It has been out of temper with us for a precious long time, and I cannot say when it is likely to get into a better humour.”

The Captain was right not to be too sanguine; before an hour had passed the wind shifted to the east-north-east. The Dolphin, close-hauled under larboard tack, stood towards the African coast.

“What about Algerine corsairs, the Sallee rovers?” asked Roger.

“If we fall in with any of the gentry, as our business is to trade not to fight, we must run if we can; but if they come up with us, we must show what British pluck can do, and beat them off,” said the Captain.