CHAPTER XII.THE SAILOR-BOY.
Forthe first few hours at sea, Jerry was little better than a piece of lumber, in everybody’s way. Nobody told him what to do, and, indeed, he was pretty diligently employed in watching the quick movements of the sailors, for the purpose of dodging out of their path. But, with all his alertness, he was not quick enough to avoid being sometimes rudely shoved one side, with a muttered imprecation on his head for getting in the way. The city now began to recede rapidly from view. The State House dome, the church spires, and the forest of ship-masts along the water-side, were all that could be distinguished in the city proper. East Boston, with clouds of smoke ascending from its numerous foundries, was in full view in the distance; while nearer at hand, on the right, was South Boston, with its highlands, its largepublic buildings, and its many work-shops with tall chimneys. The last sound that came from shore, was the striking of the church clocks. There was a brisk north-west wind, before which the brig dashed along at a rapid rate. Soon they were sailing between two fortresses, situated on islands about a mile apart, and commanding the only channel by which large vessels can enter or leave the port. Several other islands were in sight, on some of which there were large buildings. They also passed near two light-houses—tall towers built on islands, with dwelling-houses near by for their keepers. Towards noon, the pilot, whose business it is to guide vessels in and out of the harbor, took leave of the brig, and returned to port in a small sail-boat. But little land was now in sight, and the broad ocean, dotted with white sails, was spread out before them.
The sun shone pleasantly upon the waters, but the wind was raw and cold, and Jerry began to realize that he must stir about to keep warm. He was slowly sauntering along, to see for the fiftieth time if he could find anything to do, when he was accosted in a rough voice by one of the men, who said:—
“Here, you land-lubber, did you ship for a gentleman, or a figure-head, or what do you mean to do with yourself?”
“I mean to do my duty, if anybody will tell me what it is,” replied Jerry, who did not like the tone in which he was addressed, and answered accordingly. The surly manner in which this was said, was more objectionable than the language itself. In an instant, the man to whom it was addressed (who was the chief-mate), gave Jerry a blow with his hard fist, which sent the boy reeling across the deck.
“There, you young snapping-turtle,” said he, “that’s your first lesson; and hereafter look out when you’re spoken to, and give a civil answer, or I’ll crack your tow-head for you. Now bear a hand here, and clean out that pig-pen,” he continued, pointing to a shovel and scrubbing brush standing in one corner.
Pigs and poultry are frequently carried to sea, to furnish a supply of fresh meat for passengers and sailors; but these particular pigs, to whose acquaintance Jerry was so summarily introduced, were themselves passengers, on their way to a foreign land. A small pen had been fitted up for them on deck, and as cleanlinessis one of the cardinal virtues on ship-board, it was necessary that they should be continually looked after. And cleaning out a hog-sty was to be Jerry’s first experience of “a life on the ocean wave!” Had any one at home ordered him to do such a job, it is very doubtful whether he would have obeyed; but here, after the lesson he had just received, he dare not refuse or even hesitate, and so he leaped into the pen, scraped up the filth, and threw it overboard.
Sea-sickness
Shortly after Jerry had completed this useful but most unromantic task, he began to grow ill. His stomach rolled and pitched with the brig, and his head was light and dizzy. When he walked he reeled like a drunken man, and the deck seemed about to fly up into his face. Every moment, his sensations became more distressing. He laid himself down in a sheltered part of the deck, but found no relief. His pale, wo-be-gone countenance bore the impress of his misery. O, how he wished he was once more on shore! How he cursed in his heart the hour that he turned his wayward steps from Brookdale! As the motion of the vessel rolled him about like a log, he almost wished that it might pitch him overboard, and thus put an endto his misery. Should such an accident happen, it seemed to him he would not lift a finger to escape a watery grave. Such thoughts as these were passing through the brain of the sea-sick boy, when some one stole slyly up behind him, and dropped a large piece of greasy salt pork almost directly into his mouth. Any fatty substance is very disagreeable to a sea-sick person; and this mischievous prank, with the laughter and jibes of the sailors which followed it, put the climax upon the misery of Jerry. He got uponhis feet, and, clinging to the rail, began to vomit, or “throw up Jonah,” as the sailors term it. The more he retched, and gagged, and groaned, the more his tormentors ridiculed him. The most conspicuous among them was a raw, freckle-faced lad, apparently a little older than himself, who was now on his second voyage, and was retaliating upon Jerry the treatment he had himself suffered but six or eight months before. He it was that dropped the pork into Jerry’s face. The sailors called him Bob, for they seldom use any but nick-names, and those of the shortest kind.
Jerry remained upon the deck nearly all the afternoon; and no one, from Bob to the Captain, took any notice of him, except to laugh at his condition. Sea-sick people generally get but little sympathy from old salts. Towards sunset, feeling no better, Jerry asked one of the sailors if he would please to show him to his bed-room,—for, in his simplicity, it had never occurred to him that a bed-room, and even a bed, were luxuries that did not belong to the sea. The old tar, with the utmost gravity, called out:—
“Come here, Bob,—this ’ere young gentleman wants you to show him the way up to his bed-room.”
Bob came, and conducted Jerry to the ratlin, or ladder, leading up the mast,—and told him to “go up two pair of stairs, and knock at the left-hand door.” If there was anything funny in this, Jerry was too sick to apprehend it. His good-nature had long since given out; but now he was getting positively angry, and retorted upon his tormentors with some spirit. But this only increased their sport and aggravated his misery. At length, however, they became weary of their bantering, and one of the sailors, whom they called Tom, led Jerry down into the forecastle, as that part of the vessel, where the sailors sleep, is called. This apartment was in the forward part of the brig, immediately under the deck. It was a small place, barely high enough to stand erect in, and with no light except what entered at the door-way. Great chests were strewed around the floor, so that it was difficult to walk without running into them. The sides of the forecastle were fitted up with three tiers of what looked like large shelves, with raised edges. These were the bunks in which the sailors slept. Each man had his own bunk, which was just large enough to lie down in. Two or three of these bunks were unclaimed, and Tom toldJerry he could take his choice of them. But Jerry had come on board without the slightest preparation for sea, and of course had neither mattress nor blankets, which each sailor is expected to provide for himself. What was he to do in this emergency? Luckily for him, Tom happened to have some spare bed-clothing in his chest; and as he rather pitied Jerry, he offered to let him use it until he should have an opportunity to furnish himself with an outfit. Jerry gladly accepted the offer, and taking off a portion of his clothing, crawled into this narrow, box-like resting-place.
Our young sailor did not enjoy a very sound sleep, on his first night at sea. The motion of the vessel, the creaking and straining of the rigging, the noise of the water dashing against the bows, the dolorous sighing of the wind through the blocks and ropes, the loud, sharp-spoken orders on deck, and the frequent passing of the seamen to and from the forecastle, together with his sea-sickness, allowed him but little repose. Nor did he quite fancy the atmosphere of the forecastle, which became close and stifled before morning, and was flavored with various odors, the most prominent ofwhich seemed to be tar, bilge-water, and tobacco. However, he made out to catch a few short naps, from one of which, about daylight, he was aroused by a hearty shake, and ordered on deck. It at first seemed to him that he had not strength sufficient to arise, but he managed to get upon his feet, and staggered up on deck, where the mate at once set him to work, washing down the decks. Weak and sick as he was, he worked at the pump awhile, the cold water in the meantime running in streams about his feet, his shoes offering but little resistance to the flood. Then he was obliged to kneel down and scrub the deck with small stones, called by the sailors, “holy-stones,” and used at sea for cleaning the decks of vessels. This laborious employment continued for more than an hour, and whenever Jerry attempted to relax his efforts in the slightest degree, he would hear the stern voice of the mate:—
“Bear a hand there, sir,—no skulking here!”
On one occasion, this admonition was enforced by a smart stroke of a rope’s-end laid over his shoulders. Jerry began to regard the mate as a monster; and, indeed, he looked upon the officers and men, generally, as little better than the pirates of whom he had readin some of his juvenile books. But these men were not so bad as he imagined. It is stern, rough discipline that makes the hardy sailor; and Jerry’s initiation was no more severe than that of most boys who go to sea “before the mast.”
After the deck had been holy-stoned, Jerry made his first meal at sea,—he having been too sick hitherto to eat anything. His breakfast consisted of hard ship-bread, cold salt junk, or beef, and rye coffee, without milk. He ate but little, for the fare was not very tempting, and his stomach had not yet got accustomed to the ups and downs, the pitchings, and tossings, and reelings, of a life at sea. He was kept busily employed, most of the day, in doing various little chores about the vessel; for being the youngest, he was obliged to run at everybody’s call. He learned from one of the sailors, during the day, that the brig was bound for Valparaiso; but this did not give him a very definite idea of his destination,—for so sadly had he neglected his geography at school, that he could not tell in what quarter of the globe Valparaiso was situated, or whether it was a week’s, or month’s, or six months’ sailfrom Boston. He also discovered that the name of the brig was “The Susan.”
Towards the evening of the second day out, the weather grew milder and the sea more calm. The brig, which had dashed through the water as if on a race, from the moment they got under headway, now began to slacken her speed,—and one of the old sailors predicted an “Irishman’s hurricane,” as a calm is sometimes humorously called. The motion of the vessel was much less perceptible, and Jerry began to get over his sea-sickness. He now took some interest in the strange scenes spread out before him: the level ocean stretching away in every direction, until it apparently touched the sky; no hill bounding the horizon, and not a speck of land to be seen. But one other vessel was in sight, and that was so far off that only the white sails could be discerned, the hull being hidden from sight by the roundness of the earth. Dolphins and porpoises were sporting round the brig in a very amusing manner,—now darting entirely out of water, and now plunging to the bottom, or scudding along very swiftly near the surface. Occasionally, asmall bird was seen flitting past the vessel, or skimming along upon the water, in its wake. At first, Jerry took them to be swallows, but he soon learned from Tom, that they were stormy petrels, or, as the sailors call them, Mother Carey’s Chickens. The sailors regard these birds with much superstitious fear, because they appear in greatest numbers just before a storm, and are besides very singular in their habits; but the petrels are really very inoffensive birds, and have no more to do with getting up a tempest than our ducks, geese, swallows, snow-birds, and other land birds, which are uncommonly noisy and busy just before a storm. Tom, however, like most sailors, believed the traditions concerning the petrel, and when he told Jerry they were messengers of the evil one, they lost none of their interest in the eyes of the young sailor. At night, while stowed away in his little bunk, sound asleep, they appeared to him in countless flocks, and he dreamed that they settled around him in such vast numbers, that he had to struggle desperately to avoid being suffocated by them.
Thus passed Jerry’s first two days at sea. You would hardly have patience to follow him through allthe long voyage; nor is it necessary that you should, for the experience of one day was much like that of another. He found going to sea a very different thing from what he expected. To be sure, there were at first some pleasant novelties about it, but these wore away after a while. This was not the case, however, with the toils and hardships,—which only grew more distasteful the longer they were continued. The romantic, free-and-easy life of the sailor, which he had pictured in imagination, he found to be in reality a life of severe labor, drudgery, exposure, and deprivation. There were few idle moments for him, even in the most delightful weather. At daylight, each morning, rain or shine, he must scrub the decks; and clean out the pig-pen. Next, perhaps, he would be ordered to assist in shifting sails, and would be obliged to haul rough ropes until his hands were sore, and his back felt ready to break; then, for an hour or two, he would be kept hard at work scraping and oiling the masts and yards,—or be sent aloft with a bucket of tar and grease, called slush, and, hanging in mid-air, be compelled to dip his hand into the nasty mixture, and rub down some portion of the rigging or mast. He also had hisown washing and mending to do; and when there was nothing else to employ his time, he must pick oakum, or make spun-yarn and sennit. Even at night, he could not claim exemption from toil,—but was liable at any hour to be turned out by the shrill cry of “All hands, ahoy!” to face rain or snow, or to feel his way aloft in a gale of wind, and in pitch-darkness!
There was one thing, however, that Jerry, at first, felt more than even the hard work and poor fare of his new calling; this was, the iron discipline to which he found himself subjected. He had never been accustomed to obey any one, at home; but here, it was prompt, instant obedience, or a blow. This deep-rooted habit of disobedience, together with his settled habit of laziness, made his “breaking in” at sea much more painful than it would otherwise have been. One morning he did not instantly obey the summons when called up, and, without intending it, dropped asleep again; a moment afterwards he found himself sprawling among the chests in the forecastle, every bone in his body aching as though it had been twitched out of its place. The captain, with one jerk, had brought him from his bunk to the floor, and accompanied the actwith an imprecation on his eyes, for not turning out when called. Jerry had to take his turn in watching on deck, at night. One night he was greatly fatigued, and sitting down on the boom he fell asleep with his head in his lap. The second mate happened to be on deck, and seeing the situation of Jerry, he seized the rope’s-end, and approaching him stealthily, brought it down with all his strength upon the back and shoulders of the boy. Jerry, in his fright, came near leaping overboard, and it was a long time before he again took a nap at the watch. At work, too, a kick, or cuff, or a bit of rope was always handy, if there was any inclination to skulk. “Hurrah, there! bear a hand! heave along! heave along!” was constantly sounding in his ears,—a system of driving which he found anything but agreeable.
Jerry also added unnecessarily to the bitterness of his lot, during the first few weeks of the voyage, by his surly, insolent manners towards the sailors. Being treated as inferiors themselves by their officers, sailors have no opportunity to play the superior except towards the boys on ship-board, and they are very apt to make the most of this opportunity. It is best for theboy to submit patiently and good-naturedly to this petty tyranny; for, if he is saucy or surly, they show him no mercy. Jerry soon learned this, from his own experience. He at first bore the treatment of the crew with much ill-grace; but he was soon cured of this fault, and learned to be civil and obliging towards them.
In addition to all these troubles and hardships, Jerry found himself thrown into intimate companionship with men, some of whom were not only shockingly profane and disgustingly indecent, in their language, but even boasted of the immorality of their lives. But these evil influences, though they startled Jerry a little, at first, were not the things that troubled him;—and yet, with his unformed habits and principles, they were a thousand times worse for him than all the stern hardships of the sea.