She Blows! And Sparm at That!

by William John Hopkins

The Battles first stowed eight hundred barrels of our oil, greatly relieving us. Most of her cargo of trading stuff had been taken on the Clearchus, indicating that we were likely to stop at the Marquesas, and possibly at some other islands. I was gratified at that, for I wanted to see the Marquesas. The division of water and provisions was unequal, the Battles being given enough to carry her home, while the Clearchus would be obliged to fill her water-casks, at least. At last she was ready to go. She cast off, for the sea, which had been unusually quiet all through the transfer, began to roughen. She did not go far, however, but lay hove to, not far from us. Captain Coffin was in the cabin with Captain Nelson, and I was sent for.

I had watched the transfer of cargo and the selection of a crew for the Battles, with a mind at ease. I had taken it for granted that she would take the new men, and most of their boats. Jimmy was going, I knew, and I accepted the fact with small regret, for I found that a separation of three years had severed many of the ties which had bound us together. I went into the cabin with no small wonder what they could want of me; probably nothing more than the same old bluish-white pitcher, with something hot in it.

That was not what they wanted. I was hardly in the cabin when Captain Coffin asked me whether I wanted to go with him. He added that he was going aboard the Battles within a few minutes, and if I wished, he would take me along. I was too dumbfounded to answer immediately, and Captain Nelson, taking my answer for granted, sent me out again at once, saying that I had only time to get my things together, and to hurry, at that. So I found myself outside the cabin door, stumbling up the stairs, without having uttered a word. I hurried and got my belongings into my chest, carried the chest out, and went to bid a hasty good-bye to Peter, without having come to a decision. There was a certain reluctance in my actions. I wanted more time; yes, more time, at least. But still I went. I said half a dozen words to Peter, and half a dozen words to Mr. Brown, whom I met on my way aft.

If I had known the truth—and been willing to tell it, which is quite a different matter—and if it had been a question merely of choosing between Mr. Brown and Jimmy, I should have chosen Mr. Brown. Of course I was glad to see Jimmy, but he was only a boy, with a boy’s interest in things, and that did not satisfy me, possibly because I had been so long without companions of my own age. Mr. Brown seemed much more of a real companion, with interests which had come to be my own. I never saw him again.

It is a curious thing how people go out of your life. Here was Mr. Brown, who, alone of the officers, had admitted me to intimacy. I had become very fond of him; and he dropped out as suddenly and as completely as if he had fallen overboard. I do not like it. It is not right, I cannot reconcile myself to it, and I have never been able to understand it. For years I kept expecting to see him, but it is not likely now, for he would be nearly eighty, and probably he is dead long ago. He left the ship at once upon her arrival in New Bedford, and vanished. Why? I wish I knew. I found, upon inquiry, that his share of the voyage—his lay—was sent to an address in New York. I wrote, but nothing was known of him, and that ended the chapter.

Peter I did see again. He became a frequent and welcome visitor at my father’s house, and later at my own. Ann McKim liked him, and she, my father, my mother, and Peter spent many an evening in going over the events of the voyage, a chart spread out, and all four heads bent over it. I sat back in the shadows and watched them. But I am getting ahead of my story. There is not much more to tell, so have a little patience, and it will be over.

I was still in a sort of daze when I got aboard of the Battles, and she began to drop the Clearchus. I watched the old ship, with all sail set, sink below the horizon. When I could no longer make out even her topgallant yards, I turned, and went slowly below. I was to bunk in the cabin, I found, as Assistant Navigator, a totally unnecessary berth. Captain Coffin had two of the mates of the John and Alice, both good navigators, and he was a good navigator, of course; but there was room in the cabin for four, and he, in the kindness of his heart, gave the fourth berth to me. Before we got home I was made third mate, which was simply ridiculous. Probably Captain Coffin wished to make it easy for me to get a third mate’s berth on another voyage, which was kind and thoughtful. The Annie Battles was much overmanned, with a total of twenty-eight men, leaving forty-two on the Clearchus. With so many men there was not much for any one to do, although we managed to keep the men busy enough.

The run home was without incident worthy of remark. We reached Cape Horn in January, the middle of the southern summer, and had no great difficulty and no more bad weather than is always met there. In the cabin, as I was, although not yet a mate, I could not chum with Jimmy, who was before the mast, and I found it rather a lonesome berth. There was nothing for me to do but attend to my duties, which were light, and watch the schooner sail. She was a very fast and easy vessel, and very wet in a sea; but she was not in the same class as the Virginia, Marshall, master. If I had not had that experience I should have enjoyed the Battles more. But I missed the discipline, the trimness, the everlasting rightness of the Virginia. Having seen that, nothing less would ever satisfy me completely.

It was when we crossed the line that I was made third mate. Not long after, in the latitude of about 15° N., we ran into a gale, which started the seams of the patch on the bottom. No doubt Cape Horn weather had something to do with it, but we had had no proper planking to mend it with, and it was rather weak. That started a leak which increased from day to day. With our extra men, Captain Coffin hoped that we could pump her home; but by the time we were off Hatteras it had increased so much that the men were kept steadily at the pumps, and we put into Norfolk.

I left the Battles at Norfolk. I was anxious to get home, and could not even wait for the boat, which would have been cheaper. I went by train, and got in at the old wooden station on Pearl Street—“deepo’ ” we called it, early Egyptian architecture—with less than a dollar in my pocket. It was only a few blocks from my home, however, and what use had I for money? I ran all the way.