I looked out over the water again, and saw Java Head just rising above the horizon.
Late that night we came to anchor before Anjer, the fourth bay on the right as you go through the Strait from the Indian Ocean. The captain went ashore in the morning, but I did not go with him. I would go on to Batavia. It was just around the corner.
CHAPTER XXX
At Batavia I stayed on board of the Virginia as long as I could. I had not a cent of money in my pockets, and I did not like to ask help of any kind, even of the American consul. The Virginia had some freight to be unloaded, and I watched the men breaking out that part of the cargo while Captain Marshall went ashore. The captain apparently did not see me that morning, which I suppose was his way of being indulgent. There was a good deal of freight to be taken off, and when it was out of the way there was as much more to be taken in and stowed: great quantities of sugar and coffee and spices for England, and some things for Hongkong and Canton, I could not tell what. I wondered idly why they took aboard the cargo for England on the way east, but I never found out. The officers of the Virginia were not the kind of men one asked idle questions.
The cargo was not all stowed before noon of the next day, and there was no sign of the Clearchus. I was getting very uneasy, and had actually made a move to speak to the captain, when he turned to me.
“Here ’s your ship,” he said.
I looked down the bay, and saw her upper masts and dirty, slovenly looking sails, appearing indistinctly above the islands. It was a great contrast to the white canvas and shining spars of the Virginia, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
We had to wait for the Clearchus, for the wind was light, and I thought that she never would get in. Captain Marshall did not wait for her to put her anchor over, but was pulled out and met her, leaving the Virginia with her anchor hove short, her sails loosed and hanging in the clewlines, and the crew standing by to make sail. He went over the side of the Clearchus much more easily and gracefully than I did, and immediately went below with Captain Nelson. To my astonishment, I was hailed as one raised from the dead. It seems that nobody had seen me at the moment of my departure, and I had not been missed until some hours after the collision. Then the man who had been at the wheel recalled my yells, and they concluded that I had been knocked overboard. Of course it was then too late to look for me, as nobody could swim for four or five hours at the rate the Clearchus was going, small as that rate was. I laughed when I heard this explanation, but I made no comment. If they did not know, or had forgotten, that I could not swim at all, I would not bring up a painful subject. Peter and the Prince said nothing, but I was afraid that Peter’s smile would crack his leather cheeks.
I was relieved from this embarrassing situation by the return to the deck of Captain Marshall, accompanied by Captain Nelson. Both captains looked pleased, especially Captain Nelson. They stopped for a moment to glance at the damage done, which was trifling, except for the loss of the boat. As this thought crossed my mind I looked up at the roof of the after house. There was no boat missing. They must have picked it up. I asked Peter, and he nodded, saying that it was unhurt. At that moment Peter and the Prince were called to their duty, and our anchor was let go. I sidled aft, to be within plain sight of Captain Marshall when he left. That was all I could do. He took no notice of me, but disappeared over the side. I was disappointed, and felt a sinking of the heart; but I had no reason to expect anything better. To him I was but one of the crew of the Clearchus, and a whaleman. Smart masters of smart ships have a profound contempt for whalemen as a class, because of their general slackness, I suppose, although those of them who really know feel an equally profound respect for their venturesome spirit. Captain Marshall was the master of the smartest ship I have ever come across, and the condition of his vessel reflected the character of the master, as it always does. The impression I got of Captain Marshall, and the one I always retained, was that of a kind man—if you once got under his stiff crust of reserve and custom. I think that, at heart, he was sentimental, and was afraid that the crust might break and show his real nature. So he never forgot, but took every opportunity to harden and stiffen the crust; and he lavished a wealth of sentiment on his ship in secret.
I found Captain Coffin standing just forward of the house, nursing his bandaged ankle and gazing at the Virginia. I took my stand beside him, and we watched while the Virginia got her anchor up smartly, and got under way smartly, without the smallest mistake or mishap. Her canvas fell into place swiftly and with the precision of a machine, and she was soon well on her way to sea under a veritable cloud of snowy canvas, and going like a race-horse. There was no sound from Captain Coffin until the Virginia was almost out of sight. Then he heaved a long sigh, and turned to me, almost with tears in his eyes.