CAPTAIN PLUNKER ASTONISHED.
CAPTAIN PLUNKER ASTONISHED.
Each of the lads stoutly denied having any knowledge of what had happened, whereupon Plunker called them "a set of damned lying mutineers, who ought to be swung to the yardarm." This phrase was commonly used at that time whenever it was thought necessary to emphasise displeasure. Sanguinary penalties were roundly threatened to them and to their scoundrelly accomplices. Leading questions were put in a more or less forceful way, but the boys determined to preserve a secretive and even aggressive aspect, which sent their burly commander into an ecstasy of violence. At last, despairing of getting any satisfaction, he told them to get out of his sight. And tradition says that he was never known to smile again; but theCauducasbecame from that day one of the best found vessels, and her crew the best fed that sailed out of port. There was no more concealment or locking up, or doling out of Yarmouth bloaters, or any other thing. A great change had been wrought in the hitherto inexorable old man of the sea. His conduct became marked by a generosity that wiped out recollections of past meanness. His natural make-up prevented him from giving prominence to his better side, or of making himself endeared to those faithful men who spent a long life in his service, sharing his precarious fortunes in working and navigating a vessel that his contemporaries predicted would carry him and his crew to a tragic doom. Yet this man of icy exterior, blunt, uncouth and ofttimes vulgar manners, had beating within him as big a heart as ever was planted in a human breast. His men knew that there was a power about him that fascinated them. They could not call it affection, but it was something akin to it: a strong magnetism, indeed, that inspired their confidence and caused them to follow him into dangers that resembled the very jaws of death. It was never a thought of his to show any tender feelings. His susceptibilities would have been much offended could he have been presented with the idea that he had a soft place anywhere in his heart. This reluctance to be supposed effeminate was a characteristic of the age which caused many acts of injustice to be committed in order that the reputation for stern, slashing, devil-may-careness should be established, and many a fine fellow did violence to his whole nature by the desire to be considered a desperado.
This, however, never appeared to be an ambition of Captain Bourne. All he seems to have aimed at was to inspire his crew with an affection for his much beloved vessel, and not on any occasion or under any circumstances to be thought soft, or weak, or womanish. This of course could only be assumed, because he never conveyed his thoughts to anybody.
Long after the herring incident this little vessel was being loaded, waiting for favourable wind and water so that she might start on her voyage to Boulogne. She had been detained several weeks, when a fine N.E. wind and high tide enabled him to pass out of port. It was called in those days a sea tide, and several masters availed themselves of it to put to sea. Before this little fleet of collier brigs got as far south as Flamborough Head, it was blowing a fresh gale, and big lumps of sea were slashed over them. The pumps of theCauducaswere continually kept going, and there was much concern as to the crew being able to keep the water under. Her decks were opening and shutting, and her timbers were making suggestive noises. She scudded across Boston deeps under two close-reefed topsails and reefed foresail until abreast of Cromer high land, when the gale subsided, and before the Cockle light-ship was reached the wind had shifted into the south-south-east. With the help of the flood tide she was beaten through the Gat into Yarmouth roads, where the anchor was dropped, a good scope of chain run out, sails furled and ship pumped dry. Then the forecastle hands cast lots who should keep the first anchor watch. The hand who picked the shortest piece of matchwood had to accept the position of having to take the first two hours; then all the rest turned in.
The mate was always called at the turn of the tide to swing the vessel, so that the cable did not foul the anchor. This was done by a skilful manipulation of the yards and fore topmast staysail. Some mates had quite a genius for this piece of real seamanship. Others never got within the fringe of doing it successfully, and the result was that many a mishap occurred in consequence of cables fouling the anchor stock, or flukes, thereby pulling it out of the ground and causing it to drag. It was also the occasion of many bitter quarrels between master and mate. The former may have been a duffer at the manœuvre himself, but that did not bother him now that the position had changed. Even a consciousness of the mate's knowledge of his fallibility did not qualify his hostile remarks; indeed, the recollection of it never failed to increase his anger. As a matter of fact, the knack of doing it was a gift that no amount of training could create if it was not inborn. I have known apprentices, after they have been at sea a year or two, become really adepts at swinging ship at a single anchor, and many of the seamen prided themselves in being able to do it well. A more difficult task was that of preventing turns getting in the cable when riding with both anchors down, and in skilled hands it could very often be obviated. The thoughtful master or officer made a practice of coming on deck at irregular hours during the night while anchored in a roadstead, so that the men might become impressed with the idea of never relaxing their vigilance. Notwithstanding this care it was not an infrequent thing for the watch to be caught napping. On one occasion a collier brig had been windbound for several days in the Yarmouth roads. The mate was accustomed to pay nocturnal visits on deck, and had suspected that a great deal of napping was done before the galley fire, and he had his suspicion confirmed when coming up one night unexpectedly, and, stealthily making his way to the galley, he found both doors closed; no one was to be seen anywhere; he looked down into the forecastle and saw one hammock vacant, so he made his way to the galley again and listened, and heard someone snoring. He asked who was there several times and got no answer. He then tried the door, but the inmate had anticipated an invasion and had wedged it so that no one could open it from without. The mate was seized with a superstition, or exasperation, or both, so he drew a belaying pin from the rail, brought it strongly in contact with the door, and loudly asked who was there. A husky voice from within answered in broad Northumbrian accent: "Thor's neebody heor!" "Then by Gox," said the excited mate, "Ye'ar the beggar I've been luckin' for these last few neights!" The slumberer was the person who ought to have been pacing the deck. Needless to say, he became the object of much vituperation, and was never again trusted to look after the lives of his shipmates or the property of his employer. Similar incidents to this occurred on every collier vessel.
TheCauducaswas several days windbound. The crew had repaired rigging, running gear, and sails that were damaged during the storm, and they now welcomed a change of wind which came, so that the voyage might be continued. The anchor was weighed, and every stitch of canvas was spread and bellied out with a strong flowing wind. By the time the Kentish Knock Lightship was reached the wind had increased so that the topgallant sails had to be furled and two reefs taken in the topsails. The North Foreland was passed and a course shaped for Boulogne. The wind had increased to a gale, and the sea in the Channel was as cross and as angry as it well could be. Every preparation was made for entering port; mooring ropes and cable chains were got on deck so that the anchors might be used if necessary. She was run well over towards the French Coast before she could be hove to to take a pilot aboard. This having been done, orders were given to square away for the harbour. The sea was breaking a good distance off, and the prospects for entering looked very ugly. The captain was at the tiller and was unusually agitated. The pilot's excitement remained subdued until the sinister commotion of seas was within easy distance. He then became voluble in his orders. The little vessel rushed into the merciless liquid breakers at great speed. One of them broke over the bluff of the bow, carrying the bulwarks away, and at the same time the cable chain was lurched over the side. The master rushed from side to side with the tiller, irrespective of the pilot's equally chaotic orders. The crew became alarmed for their safety, while the captain and pilot vied with each other for first place in exhortation to keep cool, but neither the one nor the other was cool. The pilot called out in very broken English "Port" and "Starboard" in quick succession. The master answered "Port" and "Starboard" each time the order was given, adding each time as an addendum, "Look at that blooming cable chain hanging over the side!" so that the confusion of orders and irrelevant responses to them became a menacing danger to safe navigation. The pilot swore in French at the captain, requesting him to steer the vessel and not to mind the —— chain being over the side, and the captain delivered himself in even more forceful language at the pilot for arrogance in dictating orders as to how he should conduct himself; and in order to minimise the guilt of hard swearing and to appease his conscience for having offended the God of the British people, as soon as it was uttered the pilot begged forgiveness, and then poured forth his anger in a flow of strong French adjectives. The crew, being well trained and accustomed to perils of this nature, did their part of the necessary work irrespective of orders. They saw, however, that trouble would come to them if the master could not be persuaded to forget that the cable chain was overboard, so they induced Matt to go and offer to give him a spell, and to everybody's surprise he was willing to give the steering into the hands of his mate, who knew as well as either himself or the pilot the way into the harbour.
The seas broke heavily over her until she entered the mouth of the harbour. A crowd of their fellow-townsmen from other vessels had come on to the pier with the object of rendering any assistance they could, and by their goodness and skill she was moored without the necessity of letting go the anchors or even breaking a ropeyarn. Plunker was very grateful to these fine fellows for the valuable service they had rendered. They knew that he was never effusive about any favours conferred upon him, so were content to receive a plain "Thank you." The local sailormen of that time used to caricature him running in confused frenzy from side to side of the quarterdeck with the tiller, and imitate the pilot and himself haranguing each other to keep cool, and immediately afterwards breaking out into violent attacks on each other's capacity for giving and receiving orders.
This strange being, at a time when he was passing through the peril of facing death, never lost the power of making his men feel that he was above their level. Even his undignified altercations with the pilot, and his mixed erratic exclamations on the subject that obviously troubled him, in no way diminished the awe in which he was regarded.
The vessel was moored alongside the quay, and great care was used in having the fenders properly placed, so that her aged planking would be preserved from chafing. Had she been the king's yacht, no greater attention could have been given to prevent this.
"THERE WERE MANY CALLERS."
"THERE WERE MANY CALLERS."
The following morning there were many callers alongside, and many congratulations offered to the captain and his crew on a safe deliverance. There were shipbrokers, shipmasters, seamen and all grades of dockworkers; each of them showed a common desire to be unusually kind. The English vessels in port had their flags half-mast. Someone on theCauducasasked the reason for this, and the reply came in subdued tones that theR——had come in on the last flood, and her master reported having had very heavy weather crossing the Kent. Everything had been swept from the deck, and Captain Bourne's eldest son, who was serving as able-seaman, had been knocked off the lee foretopsail yardarm while assisting to close reef the topsail. He held on to the reef-earing as long as he could, but the flapping of the sail soon caused him to call out to his shipmates, "I can hold on no longer," and before any aid could be given he had slipped his hold and fallen into the sea, and the surges covered him over.
The news of his son's tragic end was communicated to Captain Bourne by his faithful mate, who pathetically, and with unconscious humour, exhorted his master not to give way to grief. "It is a bad job," said he, "but it would have been much worse had it been ourselves, and we were very near done for." His bereaved master was a man of very few words. He asked some particulars without apparent emotion, and then proceeded to his cabin, where he was found shortly afterwards praying in a simple, touching way to Almighty God that the body of his son might be picked up so that it might be taken to his home. He petitioned fervently that his younger boy might be spared to him. It seemed as though his communion with the Deity had given him a glimpse into futurity, or a presentiment of further bereavement. He was recalled to material things by being reminded by the cabin-boy that the mid-day meal was ready. He took his place at the table and proceeded to make inquiries as to whether the discharging of the cargo would commence that day. The mate informed him that he did not think there was any intention of doing so, whereupon he replied, "I must go ashore and stir them up." The masters and mates of the other vessels in port would have come in a body to condole with him for the loss of his son, but they knew that he loathed outward signs of soft emotion, and in any case would never allow sentiment, no matter how justifiable, to come between him and his business obligations.
He was well known in business circles for his devotion to the interests of his employers. That was his first and last thought, and when he went forth to do their business he wasted neither time nor words. He possessed a natural gift of diplomacy, and wrote no letters. He had the knack of conveying what he wanted to be at, and his quaint way of doing it, though it might amuse, always inspired the person who was addressed with the belief in his soundness, so that few men succeeded as he did in getting what he wanted. On the occasion of which I am writing, the merchants received him with obvious sympathy, and he was promised a quick dispatch. That night he got the boy to write a few lines to his wife at his dictation. They were very brief, very melancholy, very reverential. Here is the letter:
"Dear Wife,—We arrived here yesterday after a very rough passage. I hope you're well as it leaves me at present. TheR——arrived this morning's tide, and reports that Jack was knocked off the foretopsail yardarm, and they never see'd him again. He shouted 'Guidbye, I cannot hold on any longer.' I asked God to have his body picked up and sent home, and while I was doing it, a queer thought came over me that little Bobby was being washed overboard from theSavannah. I hope it's not true, and that God won't take him from us as well. No more at present, fromHIS"John x Bourne."MARK.
"Dear Wife,—We arrived here yesterday after a very rough passage. I hope you're well as it leaves me at present. TheR——arrived this morning's tide, and reports that Jack was knocked off the foretopsail yardarm, and they never see'd him again. He shouted 'Guidbye, I cannot hold on any longer.' I asked God to have his body picked up and sent home, and while I was doing it, a queer thought came over me that little Bobby was being washed overboard from theSavannah. I hope it's not true, and that God won't take him from us as well. No more at present, from
HIS
"John x Bourne."
MARK.
He seems to have had a rugged anxiety that the mother of his drowned son should be given a prompt opportunity of sharing his sorrow. It was not usual for these shellbacks to write letters while on a coasting voyage. Indeed, they were very cautious about doing it at any time in case even members of their own families should think them tender-hearted. Moreover, those who could not write or read were very sensitive about allowing others to do it for them.[1]
In due course the cargo of the little brig was discharged and the ballast was brought alongside. The side ports were knocked out, and the crew commenced to throw the ballast into the hold, as it frequently happened that only one side was available. A couple of hands were placed in the hold to shovel it over to the opposite side in order to keep the vessel upright. While this was being done the captain proceeded to collect and pay his accounts. Cheques or bills of exchange were dispensed with as a rule, and the freight was paid over the counter in sovereigns, and scooped into a leather bag. This was taken aboard and concealed in the master's room. It was a rare thing for the freight to be wrongly settled, or go astray after it was settled. Men like Captain Bourne had a mysterious way common to themselves of counting and calculating, and any breakdown in their system (for each had his own) would have made a deep wound in their pride. The day after the ballast was all in and trimmed, orders were given to unmoor, and the little craft sailed out of the harbour with a fine southerly wind and all sail set. The breeze carried her as far north as Flamborough Head, when it gradually veered into the west and kept steady, but blew so hard that the topsails had to be double-reefed.
It was the morning watch from four to eight. The cabin-boy was called at seven o'clock to prepare breakfast and polish the brass stove and ashpan. The captain heard the little fellow doing his morning work, and called out to him, "Boy!"
"Yes sir," said the boy.
"How is the wind?"
"I will go and ask," said he.
He came down and conveyed the pleasing intelligence that it was still west and they were close in by Whitby Lights.
"Come into my berth and get yourself a glass of gin, my canny lad," said the indulgent skipper, "and see that I am not disturbed for breakfast. Don't call me until she is abreast of Sunderland."
"All right, sir," said the boy, and availed himself of his master's kindness by taking a second mate's nip out of the gin jar which was kept under his bed. The little fellow wondered what had caused such a convulsion of endearment, as Captain Bourne's demeanour had hitherto been the very antithesis of external tenderness. About an hour had elapsed when he was asked again "How the wind was."
HAVING A NIP.
HAVING A NIP.
"W.N.W.," said the youth, "and inclined to break off" (i.e., norther).
"What are you making such a noise about?" growled the now uneasy captain; "shut my door so that I may be quiet; and get the cabin properly scrubbed out ready for going into port."
The wind had freshened, the vessel began to jump into a nasty head swell, and in order to ease the strain on the rigging the necessary sail was shortened. Captain Bourne was aroused by the sombre music of the wind rustling through the rigging and making occasional discordant noises. His mind became centred on the possibility of the voyage being prolonged, and in order that his suspicions should be confirmed or otherwise, he called with a deep, agitated voice for the boy to come to him; and when he presented himself the captain asked in a tone which indicated coming trouble: "How is the wind now?"
The youthful seaman replied, with a voice and manner indicative of knowledge and assurance: "The wind, sir, is strong N.N.W., and increasing," and as this was the direction in which they were bound, the captain's mental processes became confused. A strange guttural sound came from his throat as though there was a struggle going on between the flesh and the devil. The conflict did not last long, as the sanctity which he had observed for some days went under. He jumped from his bunk, seized his boot which lay hard by, flung it at the poor, fatigued laddie, bellowing out at the same time: "On deck, you darned young spawn of ——. I've been kept awake by your clatter ever since you got up." And the boy flew before the hurricane of wrath lest he should come to grief.
The men asked him the cause of being turned out of the cabin.
"The cause," he said, "is, the old man asked me how the wind was, and as soon as I told him it was N.N.W. he flung his boot at me and ordered me on deck for making too much noise. I hadn't been more than a minute in the cabin after lending a hand to shorten sail. Besides, the old beast almost hugged me when I told him the wind was west and that we were off Whitby. Why, he was so pleased he asked me to have a nip of that gin he keeps under his bed!"
"Did he swear at you?" said one of the seamen.
"Swear?" said the boy, "it wasn't swearing, it was sulphurous."
"Ah," said the sailor, "it's a bad job he's broken out again. There'll be no more peace until something serious happens. But perhaps a fair wind might put him right for a bit. I thought the loss of Jack had knocked all the sulks out of him, and that he had fairly become religious."
"What are you gadding about, man?" said Matt, the mate; "how do you expect anybody to keep religious with the wind N.N.W. and bound north, with the prospect of being driven back to Burlington Bay or perhaps Yarmouth Roads? And besides," continued this theological authority, "sailors are allowed to swear when anything goes wrong, and the old man is only taking advantage of his rights. You make no mistake; he cannot read or write—no more can I for that matter—but he knows a thing or two when it comes to law or religion." Thus spake the loyal, well-informed Matthew.
After a few days' hard buffeting against a biting head-wind, the vessel arrived at the port to which she was bound, and after she was moored and everything made trim, running gear coiled round the belaying pins, every bight being regular and equal, sails stowed in a cloth, and yards laid perfectly square, the sailors then proceeded to arrange themselves in spotless white fustian trousers and blue jerseys adorned in front with their names or initials worked in red or white worsted. The latter article of apparel was usually knit by their wives if they were married, or their intended wives if they were not, and in either case there was great competition in producing the very best work both of art and serviceableness. They then packed their clothes in canvas bags and carried them home on their shoulders. There was considerable emulation not only in the neatness of the packing and the cleanness of the bags, but the arrangements for fastening the mouth of the bag took weeks to fashion into a very pretty piece of sailorising. These things may seem small and frivolous, unworthy indeed of being referred to as even a characteristic of the sailor of that locality and of that period. I do not know anything that came under the lash of such severe criticism as the sailor's own fashion of dress, and it must not be imagined that it was confined to the sailors themselves, though they were merciless enough with each other, but the owners and the public generally took the keenest interest in these little touches of vanity and handiwork. Many a worthy fellow got a good berth because he and his belongings had the stamp of ingenuity and tidiness about them, and certainly many of them knew that this was a sure means of winning the affections of young girls whom they wished to make their wives.
These young maidens who resided in this interesting little seaport town knew almost by instinct whether a vessel was kept smart or not; neither those who were married nor those who were single liked either their husbands or sweethearts to be associated with an ill-kept vessel. If they read anything at all it was what the newspapers said about shipping, or as a matter of religious devotion they might perchance read an occasional chapter in the Bible, so that their mental energy found a ready outlet in the gossip of things appertaining to their daily life and immediate surroundings, which for the most part were nautical, although I must not overlook the fact that many of the more intelligent of them were connected with religious institutions. These were mostly Dissenters, Wesleyan Methodists, Primitives and Presbyterians. The Church of England had not at that time become the evangelical force that it may be considered to-day. I am not sure to which of these sects Captain Bourne belonged, but amongst every class there was a widespread sympathy extended to him on his arrival at the home port. The news of his son having come to so untimely an end moved the little community so that condolences came to him from many unexpected quarters. Dignified owners shared with the common sailor and apprentices their ungrudging sympathy, and he received it with transparent gratitude. All his gruff mannerisms were forgotten in the sorrow of the moment. The poor lad who had passed so suddenly into the valley of death was looked upon as a promising captain in embryo, and there was much speculation as to the deeds he would have accomplished and the high position he would have attained had the sea not claimed him so soon. All this and a good deal besides was spoken to the sorrowing parents by way of ameliorating their suffering, and also because the occasion was opportune for speaking that which they really believed would have come to pass. Little did the people or the object of their compassion think that at the very time they were saying those encouraging words destiny was fulfilling another tragedy, and the sea had again become the tomb of a bonny, bright, promising youth who had not reached his seventeenth year. TheCauducashad been in port for a couple of weeks and was on the point of sailing, when news came that Captain Bourne's second son had been washed overboard and drowned from the vessel he was serving aboard of. The presentiment that this would happen had been overshadowed by the interest taken in the loss of the eldest boy. When the news was broken to him, a sullen, stupefied gaze came into his eyes. He murmured a few incoherent words, and then with a superhuman effort he raised his voice, and with emphasis that was terrible as well as pathetic he called out: "Oh, God, what have I done to You that You should allow this thing to be done to me? I have had two bonny lads taken from me within a month of each other. Oh, God, help me to bear the trial like a man!"
This fine old sailor, believed he was holding communion with a personal power of British nationality that could sway the universe at His will. He believed, though he could not see Him, that God was a person that kept Himself out of sight for a purpose, and that it was the duty of every Englishman to keep on good terms with Him. The mystery of divinity never entered his head. It was a simple, steadfast faith, peculiar if you like, but unyielding in devotional loyalty to His supremacy. It was a wonderful phenomenon, which even cynical logicians might have found embarrassing to their iconoclastic notions could they have witnessed it. Here was an uncultured though magnificent-looking person passing through a sorrowful tribulation, exciting the pity and calling for the admiration of hundreds of his fellow creatures, because he was able to hold his head up and appeal to the only power he knew that was capable of giving him consolation and courage. "Oh, God, help me to bear the trial like a man!" That was the melancholy burden of his petition, and the assurance that it would be answered never forsook him.
His vessel was soon ready for sea, and sailed on the first of a series of voyages that were contracted for her to run. On the completion of these he was asked by his owner to take command of a barque of about 600 tons deadweight. To an ordinary man and to the average shipmaster of that time, the opportunity of being shifted from an old rattle-trap brig to the enviable position of commander of a "South Spainer" would have been accepted with excessive pride and gratitude; but Bourne was not an ordinary man. He had spent a long life as master of a vessel on which he had placed his affections, so that the more urgent the owner became for him to take advantage of the offer of much higher wages and greater dignity, the more tenaciously he clung to the belief that some serious judgement would befall him if he were ungrateful and disloyal enough to forsake the brig that had carried him for more than a quarter of a century across many a wrathful sea. "No," said he, "I must end my days in the canny ship. Her and me have had a lot to do with each other, and I would never forgive myself if I were to agree to this request, and some useless fellow were to put her ashore on a bank or on the rocks, and she became a total wreck. Besides, if anything were to happen I could not rest in my grave."
"Well," said the owner, "I appreciate your high motives, and also the strong regard you have shown for a vessel that has made me so much money; and I must not forget to say that but for your skill and care in conducting the business, and also in the navigation, the results would have been very different. It is because of these and other sterling qualities that you possess that I ask you to consider favourably the offer I have made. You know how badly theGrasshopperhas done, and I feel that you are the only man that can pull her out of the bad mess she is in. Sleep over it."
Bourne slept over it, and informed the owner the next day that the ship was far too big for him, but as the change was urged he must leave the final decision to the owner, always bearing in mind that he wished to remain where he was. The owner availed himself of the old mariner's flexible state of mind by promptly taking him at his word. And he forthwith became the object of notoriety. There had been not a few aspirants to this enviable position, and much speculation as to whether Bourne would ultimately be persuaded to take it or not. Of course it was vigorously hoped he would not, and when the announcement in the affirmative was made there were sundry disappointments. The predictions were of a gloomy character. Forebodings that the new commander would never be able to handle so large a ship became the prevalent idea, for he had never been in a vessel carrying more than about 250 tons. It was an open secret that Captain Bourne had misgivings of a similar kind himself. He feared, indeed, that she might run away with him. He apprehended that his capacity to handle a vessel of a different rig from that to which he had been accustomed all his life might prove defective. Many of his contemporaries, as well as he himself, held very contracted and primitive ideas as to size. They talked of vessels of 400 tons burden as being large, and those of six to seven or eight hundred were described as leviathans.
Captain Bourne showed signs of depression from the time his belongings were taken from the object of his devotion. He felt he was parting from a life-long friend. A Board of Trade certificated chief mate was engaged to act as "nurse." The crew were signed on, stores shipped, and after the cargo was all aboard, theGrasshoppercrossed the bar amid much cheering from the people who lined the quays and piers. Moreover, the occasion was of more than usual interest, for Captain Bourne had never been off the coast during his whole life. After the tug and pilot left, a course was shaped towards the hidden mysteries that lay across the sea. The passage was made quickly, but not without mishap, for the vessel had struck on a reef of rocks, and it was thought her false keel and copper had received considerable damage. From the time the vessel left the port of loading the captain had been little seen. It was well known that a morbid brooding had taken complete possession of him. He rarely came to his meals, and when he did he never spoke except to murmur some words of endearment about the old ship he had been persuaded to leave. The stranding of his new command was interpreted as a judgement sent to him for the wrong he had committed in giving way to pride by forsaking the craft that had carried him so many years in safety. On his arrival in port several friends paid him a visit, and were struck with his changed appearance. The mates and steward said they had observed that there was a difference in him, but the passage had been so wild and eventful they had never had time to think of it. After the first two or three days his business visits ashore became very irregular, and before the cargo was discharged they had ceased altogether. He was seldom seen either below in his cabin or on deck. He could not be induced to take his meals regularly, and took to shutting himself up in his stateroom. A dangerous form of melancholia held him in fetters, so that when friendly visitors called to see him his reclusive mood forbade any intercourse with even men who knew him intimately.
There was much speculation as to the cause of this morbid determination to abstain from food and from having communication with anyone. Naturally, drinking was freely attributed to him, but this was stoutly denied by every one of the crew. His mate and steward were of opinion that he was fretting badly about having to leave the old brig; and this had led him to think more than he would have otherwise done of the loss of his boys and the stranding of his vessel. Each day saw a change for the worse, until the mate became alarmed by evidences of total collapse. He determined to see the master of a steamer who was in port and knew Bourne well enough to do what would have been resented as a great liberty in another man. This captain insisted that he would not stand the humbug of asking to be allowed to see Bourne, so he boldly went aboard, knocked at the stateroom door, and demanded admittance. On this being refused, he proceeded to force the entrance, and presented himself before the amazed inmate with quite a string of strong adjectives for the bad behaviour in not reciprocating his neighbourliness.
"What are you lying there fretting your soul out for?" said the burly commander; "get up and come ashore with me and pull yourself together. You owe a duty to your owner, your wife, and yourself. You're not going to mend matters by moping and refusing to take natural exercise and food!"
"Ah," said Captain Bourne, "I will never set my foot ashore again. I am very near the end, and I will be glad when it comes. Tell the owner as soon as I am gone that I have never been myself since I acted so bad in leaving my bonny little ship that did so much for me." And putting his hand to his breast, he added: "I have felt queer and sore here ever since. I hope God will forgive me, but I was sure my sin would find me out; and here I am, a poor shrivelled-up man, anxious to get away from earth and to be with my drowned boys. The parson told me I would meet them in a better world to this, and so I want to get to it as quick as I can, for all the pleasure was taken out of my life when I consented to come here. I haven't been very bad, and always was as good as I could to God. Sometimes I've sworn when anything went wrong, but I never meant any harm in it. Besides, they say that sailors' swearing is not like other people's."
His friend urged him in a rollicking manner to take a more cheerful view of his position.
"There are many," said he, "who would give worlds to have command of so fine a vessel."
"Let them have it, then," said Bourne; "but I was content to end my days in the old ship. That was glory enough for me, and they (meaning his owner and his friends) would not let me do it."
Captain W—— shook him warmly by the hand, and promised to call again.
Bourne murmured: "I may never see you again. I feel the end is very near. My general health is good, but what ails me is a sore heart. Tell them, W——, if I should die before seeing you again, that I trusted in God and His Son, that the parsons say preached the gospel of sorrow. My cup is full of that. So that I would be satisfied to meet death willingly could I catch but one glimpse before it comes of the ship that has been my home all my life, brought up my bairns, and kept a comfortable abode ashore for me."
His friend parted from him with a sad heart, believing that no earthly power could save him, for he saw that he was encompassed by the shadow of doom, and that the triumph of death would soon overtake him.
The following morning theGrasshopperensign flew half-mast. Poor Bourne had passed the portal beyond which he was to find peace. His last message to his mate and steward were: "I shall soon be dead. Say 'so long' for me to my wife and the owner. Tell them my heart broke, for I could not bear the loss of my boys and the parting from the canny little brig. Tell them I bear no ill-will to anybody, and that I expect to meet them beyond the river in a better land."
These words were the last spoken by the grief-stricken old mariner, who in the plenitude of his manhood would have scorned the idea of openly giving way to emotion. His officers sat by him until he quietly slipped his moorings.
1 (Return)It may be as well to explain here that the straddle-leg patent, as it was called, often caused sailors to be both killed and drowned. They used to give advice in a flippant way to each other that if they were forced to let go their hands to be sure to hold on by the skin of their teeth or their feet. This little joke was rarely successful in saving them from being smashed to pieces or drowned. The invention by Collin and Pinkney for reefing and furling, and subsequently the double topsail yards introduced by the Americans, did a great deal towards preventing loss of life, and certainly saved many a spar from going over the side. It was found that there were fewer accidents both in life and property by the use of the latter. Occasionally the patents, which have been long out of use, went wrong, and the sail could neither be got up nor down, but this never happens when proper care is used with the double topsail yarders. With these a vessel may be put under close-reefed topsails in a few seconds.
III
CAPTAIN MACGREGOR
Captain Alexander Macgregor, as his name betokens, was a Scotchman, who had left his native land with credentials which gave him the reputation of being not only learned but one of the most expert mariners that ever walked a quarterdeck. For many years he had traded to all parts of the world in command of various sized vessels owned in Scotland, and had earned the confidence of his employers by the deeds he had accomplished in making them large profits. His old owner was perturbed when it became known that his services had been sought for elsewhere, and secured, owing to monetary inducements such as no worthy Scot could refuse, for Scottish shipmasters at that time were shockingly paid. His advent to English employment was not regarded favourably by the men who claimed that vessels belonging to that particular port should be commanded by men of the port, native born or reared into seamen by the matchless skill of the generation of local sailors that preceded them. He was looked upon as an interloper who had come to take bread from their mouths. But what concerned them as much as anything was their dread of a lower standard, which might lose for them the premier position which they ostentatiously declared was theirs, of breeding and rearing skilful, hardy men. The gentleman whom they held responsible for the unwarrantable innovation carried on a nourishing trade in the dual capacity of miller and shipowner. He came across Macgregor when on a visit to one of his vessels which was discharging at a Scottish port, and became fascinated by his bright, cheery intelligence. A bargain was struck and he forthwith took command of Mr Hobkirk's finest craft. The prejudice formed by this unpatriotic act had far-reaching consequences, which were never really effaced. The community regarded it as another proof of English generosity and Scottish unscrupulous pushfulness of character which worms its way into the affairs of men and captures all the blessings of earth and heaven at the expense of their neighbours.
"We suppose," said these proud men of the sea, "he has been brought here to teach us something. We will let him see what he has come to. His life shall be made not worth living, and the miserable traitor who has put him over our heads shall be made to feel that we don't want any Scottish instruction. His great seamanship must be tested, and as to learning, what do we care for learning? This is not our business. We want sailors, not learning."
This piece of shrewd eloquence was noisily applauded by the affected persons, who felt convinced that their birthright had been stolen from them. Meanwhile the object of their aversion showed qualities of genius that caused Mr Hobkirk to marvel at his own inherent instinct which had enabled him to fix on so distinguished a prodigy. Some of his shipowning friends were struck with what they called his cleverness, and asked him to convey to them his secret for finding a person so unlike the ordinary shipmaster. He bowed his head low in token of submission, and almost in a whisper conveyed to them the belief that he was the instrument of divine Providence. The seamen and skippers of the port did not hold the same view as the owner, so they set themselves to make it very difficult for Macgregor to get a crew, and had he not been an astute man of affairs, great loss and inconvenience would have ensued. The local union was very strong, very active and intensely popular. All its official machinery was thrown into the policy of obstruction, and all its efforts were abortive, for theHebewas towed out of port with a full crew in spite of a continual shower of stones and other missiles.
Amongst this notorious crew was one named Ralph Davidson, a half-witted young fellow who had served two apprenticeships without being able to qualify for the dignity of A.B., that is, he could not pass the necessary examination for admittance into the union. This poor creature was permitted to sail as "half-marrow" or ordinary seaman because of his local origin and good natured simplicity. Otherwise the very mention of half-marrow was loathed, and no amount of persuasion could induce these men and lads to tolerate a stranger in that capacity. I commend the ideal to present-day sailors and shipowners. The British Merchant Service would be all the better by going back to this old-time method of keeping up the standard of proficiency. Ralph had all the characteristic weaknesses of the sailor. He was a much-sought-after institution at all the public house dances while at home, and was not averse to either accepting a glass of whiskey or giving one when he had the wherewithal to do it, but that was rarely. He spent much of his meagre earnings and time in this way, and suffered for it when he was obliged to go to sea without suitable clothing. Young people of both sexes were very fond of getting him to do a step-dance or sing a song. The latter sounded like paying chain cable out of a hawse pipe, and kept the room in screams of laughter. TheHebehad reached the Bay of Biscay on her way to Lisbon. A strong south wind was blowing, accompanied with heavy rain, and the spray flew all over her. Ralph stood at the wheel shivering, clad in a suit of dungarees. His face indicated all that he was suffering, and his mutterings attracted the attention of the captain, who overheard him swearing, "My God, as soon as I get into port I'll have a suit of oilskins!" In due time they got into port, and Ralph was the first aft to ask for money to purchase the water-proof articles. The captain made the advance and reminded him that he relied on it being spent for the purpose for which it was intended. He was assured that Ralph's suffering for want of proper clothing had left an unpleasant recollection on his mind and he did not intend to suffer in the same way in future. On landing, he was prevailed upon to go to a grog shop and dance house before making his purchase. The captain, suspecting that there was not much strength behind his resolve, dropped into the place of amusement and witnessed his half-marrow in full swing on the floor. He tapped him on the shoulder as he waltzed round, and said:
"Didn't you say when the rain and spray were lashing over you in the Bay of Biscay that you would buy a suit of oilskins as soon as you got into port?"
"Ah, yes, captain, I said that. But there is no rain and spray lashing at me now. It's different weather here," replied the irrepressible sailor as he continued to play his part in the harmony of the evening.
The captain had brought some friends to witness and enjoy the discomfiture of his "oddity," but the bright retort turned the tables against him, and established the opinion with them that Ralph instead of being half-witted was at any rate on that occasion very ready-witted. They said they would not have lost the sight of seeing the joke for anything. Macgregor wisely entered into the fun, and admitted that Ralph had scored in a way that he had not anticipated.
Meanwhile the new captain was discussed at home with striking regularity. Opinions varied as to how long he would last and what would be the cause of his downfall. Quotations from the Scriptures were used in profusion, the favourite of which was: "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Their faces wore an aspect of great concern, and they ominously shook their heads in token of sinister developments that were to bring much tribulation to their friend who had broken the law of brotherhood. A letter was received by Mr Hobkirk from the captain giving a graphic description of his passage and the general prospects for dispatch at the port of discharge. Dealing incidentally with his future plans, he remarked in passing: "I cannot close without briefly saying how much I owe you for the honour you have done me by entrusting so valuable a property and such important interests to my keeping. May I assure you that it is my intention to see that you are well rewarded for the confidence you have placed in your humble servant." The owner went into ecstasy over this letter and showed it to many of his friends as evidence against their adverse opinion and as an indication of unusual capacity. Some of them drily remarked: "The letter may be all right, but we believe in results, and advise you to wait until you see your accounts." These nasty insinuations, however, did not in any way shake the confidence of the owner. Each communication dazzled his imagination and gave him further opportunity for extolling the rare gifts of his valuable skipper who was dashing his vessel along in a way that amazed the inhabitants of the sleepy town to which she belonged. The first voyage was made in quick time, and the profits were satisfactory. His treatment of the crew was not all kindness, but they were rather proud to be able to say that they had sailed with a dare-devil who had lost a suit of sails crossing the Bay by sheer carrying on; besides he was generous in the distribution of food and grog, and this was a trait that palliated all other defects. On his arrival home the interview between him and his employer was of the most cordial character, and he was sent on another voyage with a free hand to act in chartering and other things, as his judgement led him to think was in the best interests of the vessel. On this occasion he went to Landscrona with coals, and from there to a Russian place called Windau in ballast. On arrival off this port he left the mate in charge with instructions to dodge about while he went ashore to see if he could get a good charter. In less than two hours he was aboard again with the pilot, and the ship proceeded into the harbour to load at a high rate of freight for London. The news of the unexpected arrival and unique fixture created quite a flutter in shipping circles. Hobkirk's former critics became suddenly enamoured of this remarkable captain, and his fame spread far and wide. He was held up as an example of greatness to his less successful contemporaries, and they in turn secretly desired a tragic end for him. Hobkirk being a pillar of the church, deemed it necessary when he took his walks abroad to hang his head in saintly humility. If he came across any of his friends he warned them to guard against covetousness, and should prosperity such as his come to them they were adjured to subdue any inclination to pride.
"We have need to subdue vanity, haughtiness, self-glorification, and other worldly ways. I often read and ponder over these awful words," said this sanctified commercial prince: "The nations shall rush like the rushing of many waters, but God shall rebuke them, and they shall flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind."
At the time his owner was exhorting his fellow-townsmen to a closer communion with God, Captain Macgregor had given way to habits that were not commensurate with the doctrine of that righteousness which exalteth a people, and as often happens (especially aboard ship) when a bad example is shown by the master, the crew and officers drift into irregularities, and all discipline is destroyed. This was exactly what occurred aboard theHebe. The master was known to be on the spree, so the mate, Munroe, thought he would have a day off, and took as a drinking chum, Ralph, the half-marrow; and, in order that they might not be disturbed, they travelled to a snapshop in the country, some miles away from the town. Instead of one day, two were spent in drinking, swearing, dancing, and, as sailors generally call it when on the spree, casting the lead—presumably to know their whereabouts. A sailor belonging to theHebegot to know where they were, and persuaded a man belonging to another vessel to go with him and bring them back. They had a tough job, but at midnight of the second day they succeeded in getting them to retrace their way to the ship, the plan being to get aboard when nobody was about. Munroe was a typical sailor, full of devilment, especially when he had had a few glasses of grog. The two "plants" trudged their way conversing with great animation of what they had seen and done and what they intended to do. Ralph was ready to acquiesce in all his officer said as to future exploits. Their shipmate reminded them (especially Ralph) that it would not be well for them if the old man got to know they had been on the loose, whereupon Ralph retorted, "I don't care a damn for the old beggar." This outburst was supplemented by more sanguinary promises on the part of Mr Munroe. At this point they were passing a farm just on the outskirts of the town, and observed some poultry. The chief officer said he would not go aboard emptyhanded, and had never done so in his life, and wouldn't do so now.
"What do you say, Ralph?"
"I say the same as you say, James," said the complacent half-marrow; "let us have a fowl for breakfast."
One cock and two hens were captured by the mate, who was full of congratulations to himself. At last one of the escorts reminded him that he would have to conceal the birds or he might be stopped and run in by the sentry.
"By gox, that's true," said Munroe; "where shall I put them?"
"In your breeches," said Ralph, sharply.
"That's first class," said he, and with Ralph's assistance they were stowed in the part of his wearing apparel where there was an abundance of room generously supplied by the tailor. They had not gone many yards when the mate showed evidences of discomfort. He was obviously suffering pain. The two escorts were by this time in kinks with laughter. Ralph asked his mate what was the matter with him.
"Matter?" said the mate, "why, the blooming things are biting me to pieces."
"Let the beasts bite," said Ralph coolly; "you cannot have them there without them doing something, you darned fool! How do you expect to get past the sentry if you go on like that? Buck up and bear it."
At this point the cock gave an unnatural guttural cry. Ralph exhorted his companion to keep the thing quiet. He replied he couldn't, and that he would stand it no longer.
"Well," said Ralph, "if you won't stand it you won't have fowl for breakfast."
"Oh, darn the breakfast! I must let them go. Help me to unbutton, for if I move they'll go mad again."
The birds were taken from their concealment. Ralph secured two, twisted their necks, stuffed one into his own nether garment, and informed the mate that he should have adopted this plan of quietening them at first.
"Here," said he, passing him the other dead hen, "two makes it far over bulky; you stow it away in yours."
"No fear," said Mr Munroe, "I'll never touch or eat a bit of fowl again as long as I live. My sufferings are too great."
"Why that's rotten nonsense," said the resourceful half-marrow; "the thing's dead."
"I don't care," responded the penitent thief, "I'll never handle them again, dead or alive. Oh, Christo, Iamsmarting!"
"Hold your blether about smarting and suffering, you fool, or you'll get me nabbed," replied Ralph, who had now concealed both roosters.
The two escorts were by this time well nigh paralytic with laughter. As they drew near to where the slumbering sentry stood, the chief officer caused great anxiety by the style of walk he was forced to assume. Ralph implored him not to go along as though he expected swine to pass between his legs, and not to put on such an agonized look. He coaxed him by the promise that he himself would attend to his wounds as soon as they got safely aboard. The good-hearted soul took infinite trouble in his rough way to fulfil the pledge he had given. They were not intercepted by the military gentleman who guarded the destiny of the port, and as soon as their feet were planted on deck Ralph exclaimed, "Now we're safe." Jack has an inherent belief in the sacredness of British territory, either floating or otherwise. He is a stout upholder of British supremacy, and conformity to the laws of other nations does not appeal to him. His creed is undisguised, and has been handed down as an heirloom from the great naval hero who smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France at Trafalgar. Here it is: "Fear God, and hate a Frenchman as the devil hates holy water." The average sailor continues to believe this to be an edict which alone can assure patriotism and divine compassion. All these things were well mixed in Ralph's brain. He never doubted the truth of them, and the one idea which brought forth the utterance, "Now we're safe," was the conviction of British supremacy and protection.
It took Mr Munroe a few days to get into working order. The news of the adventure and the sequel to it soon spread amongst the English vessels in port. There was much visiting and jocular sympathy expressed for the prime mover, and the sailor's sense of humour was greatly touched by all he heard. The mate himself was a humourist, and after he had got over the painful period he often told the story against himself, and never failed to do so with a vividness that made it highly attractive.
The loading of the vessel was in no way delayed by this little freak, as there was no cargo down. Captain Macgregor, however, had not been seen for several days, and the vessel was nearly ready for sea. The proper agencies were instructed to have him brought aboard, drunk or sober, so he landed aboard drunk, and gave everybody an unhappy time until he was got into his bunk and sent to sleep. The next day he rose early, got all his papers and accounts made right, paid them, signed bills of lading, cleared, and put to sea with a fair wind. There were no traces of intemperance in either his behaviour or in the manner of giving orders. He talked with marked intelligence to his officer, and partook of the evening meal with him; and as he had reason to leave the table before Munroe had finished, he politely asked to be excused for doing so. This mark of consideration overshadowed his other faults and stamped him as a gentleman in the opinion of the mate. A somewhat disturbing incident followed, for the guttural voice of someone nowhere to be seen rebuked James Munroe for absenting himself from the vessel for two days and indulging in intoxicating drink to excess and for purloining a poor farmer's fowls, which even the painful results to himself could not excuse. Then followed a modest tribute to Captain Macgregor's superior morality. "It is not well that Macgregor should ever taste alcohol," said the voice; "the slightest drop takes effect and causes him to appear intoxicated when he is not." Then there came from the stairs the almost incoherent announcement that a stormy passage was to be experienced. Then the voice fluttered away, and left only the sound of creaking timbers and the weird moan of the wind. Munroe was riveted with dumb terror, and when speech came to him he remarked: "That's darned funny," and proceeded on deck to attend to his duties. In a short time he was joined by the captain, who was promptly informed of what had been heard.
"Ah," said the skipper, in dead earnest, "that must have been a warning to you and to me to regulate our lives aright."
"I don't know about the warning, but these visitations you talk about are not very canny," responded the mate.
"How dare you complain of being reminded of absenting yourself from your duties and stealing poultry and concealing them in a manner that is disgraceful?" sternly replied the captain.
"All right," said Munroe in a voice obviously agitated, "say no more about it."
Macgregor navigated for three days after leaving, with great vigour and commendable care, though it was known that he was tippling. He seemed to have an aversion to Ralph when he had imbibed too freely. This could not be accounted for, as until recently Ralph was very popular with the captain. After passing Elsinore he commenced to drink harder, but always kept his watch until the Scaw was rounded. Then irregularities became visible. Strong westerly winds were encountered after passing the Jutland coast. The men knew by experience whenever a light was kept burning in the stateroom at night, when the wind blew hard and a press of canvas was being carried, that the intention was, not to take a stitch in until something carried away. The sailors dreaded these occasions, as the little craft was smothered at times and never a bit of rest could be had until the wind eased down. Ten days after leaving Windau theHebeentered the Commercial Docks, London. She had been flogged heavily all the way home. A record passage was considered to have been made under the circumstances, and several vessels that had left before and at the same time were sheltering in Elsinore roads, while others had put into Norwegian ports. Mr Hobkirk was much gratified by his captain's performances, and would not listen to the petty gossip that had been sent by some busybodies about him drinking and being absent from the vessel while at the loading port. He deemed it necessary, however, to mention the matter to the captain, who on his arrival at the Tyne was asked to spend an evening with the owner and discuss things generally. The use of offices was dispensed with in these days. All accounts and correspondence were kept and carried on from the owner's private house. When the interview took place, Captain Macgregor was at his best. Hobkirk was like a willow in his hands. He nervously introduced the subject of intemperance. It was eloquently and contemptuously denied; and just as the owner was in the act of repeating what had been told him, a stern voice came down the chimney rebuking him for lack of confidence in a man who had given such proof of integrity. Hobkirk felt uneasy, but the matter of accounts which were not quite satisfactory had to be dealt with. As soon as they were mentioned Macgregor fumed into white heat and rose to go, and got nearly to the door when a sharp angry voice came down the chimney demanding that the captain should be brought back again and peace made with him. Hobkirk was by this time in such a state of terror he begged the gallant commander to take his seat, and apologised for having unintentionally offended him. Again the voice came: "The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined." This was the climax. Hobkirk was beside himself with fear, and tremblingly requested that all should be forgotten.
"I assure you, Macgregor, I have the fullest confidence in you. By the way, did you hear anything just now?"
"Yes," said the captain, "and although I'm not a nervous man it has made a very deep impression upon me. Good night, sir."
The captain never had the honour of being invited to his owner's home again. There were those who said that Hobkirk believed him to have communion with his Satanic majesty, or to possess supernatural power. Hobkirk was undoubtedly convinced that the mill was haunted by a spirit favourably disposed towards the man who had claimed to be his ideal shipmaster. He became afraid to doubt his honesty or his sobriety lest his nights might be disturbed and his days filled with trouble.
"Ah," said he to a friend in whom he had confided, "Solomon the son of David was right when he said these words: 'Happy is the man that findeth wisdom and the man that getteth understanding, for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.'"
"Very shrewd, very fine," said his friend, "but you might have added one or two other things that the great Hebrew King's son said. What do you think of these few words of wisdom and rebuke: 'But ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh?' It is no use, Hobkirk; I told you all along that Macgregor would have to be watched, but you were carried away with his money-making, his glamour and letter-writing, and now he's your master. I'll tell you another thing old Solomon said: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love, and faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.' My advice is: have another master ready for theHebeas soon as she gets back."
Hobkirk confessed to his friend that the quotations from his favourite author and his own frank statements had made a deep impression on him, though he was bound to admit that his confidence was only partially shaken in the man to whom he had pinned his faith.
"Very well, we will see," responded the friend as he passed out of the door.
Mr Hobkirk's meditations kept him awake right through the night, and at an early hour in the morning he boarded theHebe, and found the captain and his men energetically preparing to take her to sea. The cargo was all in. A gentle westerly breeze was blowing. The topsails were set; the moorings were let go; and the little vessel proceeded out of the harbour bound to Copenhagen.
The owner went over the bar with her, and on getting outside had a private conversation with the master, the nature of which was never disclosed, but so far as Macgregor was concerned it was animated. Mr Hobkirk, before leaving with the pilot, gave the crew his benediction, and slipped into the cobble which waited to convey them ashore. The pilot, observing that the flag was being dipped, broke the silence by remarking:
"She's off once more, sir, and they're dipping the blood and guts of old England to say goodbye to us."
The owner was indignant, and smartly retorted:
"I wish you to understand, pilot, that I will not have the British flag insulted in my presence. When you speak of that flag, sir, you must speak of it with reverence, and remember that it has never been lowered to an enemy."
The pilot, who had been a sailor and captain, was amazed at the owner's ignorance in not knowing that seamen were accustomed to speak of the flag in this way. Had he been a foreigner who dared to address him in a similar tone of ill-nature, he would have thrown him overboard. As it was, he merely remarked in an ironic accent that Mr Hobkirk "had a lot to learn yet." By the time the cobble got ashore, the fine clipper brig was nearly hull down.
Macgregor had prevailed upon the same crew to go with him again, and the owner's back was scarcely turned before he commenced to drink and ill-use the poor half-witted Ralph who was in his watch. There does not appear to have been any reason for this except that of alcoholic viciousness. The dark horror of secret drinking quickly developed into hideous proportions; it gripped him like a vice; his bleary eyes and wild fits of delirium foreshadowed inevitable collapse. He raved about things that were supposed to be whispered in his ears by unholy voices; he saw wild beasts of the most ferocious character, which were not there, and imagined them grinding their teeth in anxiety to devour him; he alternately yelled and whispered that rats, weasels and wild cats were crawling over his body and gnawing at his vitals. In the paroxysm of frenzy he lay down on the cabin floor and tried to bury his head from the sight of the demons that he imagined pursued him. He cried out in pitiful accents to be shielded from them, and in the effort lost complete capacity for coherent speech. The crew were thrown into a condition of chilly fear. A consultation was held, and it was decided to have him carefully watched and occasional doses of brandy administered. For three days a fine westerly breeze had raced over the dappled sea. It had varied in strength, and nearly three hundred miles had been covered when the wind died away to a calm which continued nearly twenty-four hours. Then an air sprang up from the east and gradually gained in strength to a whole sail breeze. The captain had shown alarming signs of sudden recovery during the early hours of the fourth day. Thedelirium tremenshad apparently left him, and he became subdued and attractively rational. Munroe, who did not possess much intelligence, knowledge or ambition, expressed his satisfaction that the drunken beggar was about to resume control, as he was sick of being both skipper and mate. As a matter of fact, responsibility did not sit lightly on this frivolous officer, and it may be that he knew the measure of his capacity. Ralph heard all the mate had to say, and quietly remarked:
"They haven't left him yet. He's only at the cunning, dangerous stage."
"What do you mean, Ralph?" said Munroe (for in spite of his reputed semi-idiotcy Ralph was supposed to possess intuitive foresight).
"I mean what I say. Now's the time to watch him, or he may have any one of us by the throat before we know where we are. I'll be the first he'll go for," said Ralph, in broad vernacular; "he used to like me, but now that he's taken on to drink I feel that he wants to kill me."
At midnight on the fourth day from sailing Ralph had just relieved the wheel, and Macgregor had come on deck, and commenced to walk the quarterdeck in his usual dignified style. The vessel was being sailed by the wind, and his eyes became fixed aloft, watching, as was his custom, whether she was properly steered. At last he broke silence by shouting out:
"Hard up! Don't you see the rocks right ahead?" Then he sprang at Ralph like a tiger, and had nearly torn his clothes off him before other members of the crew came to his aid. The captain's strength was superhuman. It took four men to get him into his berth and lash him securely down, and in a few minutes he died in a screaming fit of madness.
It was promptly arranged that the body should, if possible, be landed in England, and as there was blowing a whole sail breeze from the east, her tail was put to it and then a heated discussion arose as to the proper course to steer for Tynemouth Castle. The mate said W. by N. Ralph insisted W. by S. from their position would land her right under the castle foot. As both stubbornly maintained they were right, it was agreed to come to a compromise by steering W. by N. one watch and W. by S. the next, and so on until the land was made. After this knotty question was settled an incident almost incredible in its awful gruesomeness took place. Ralph became smitten by a revengeful mania. He went below, took his deceased commander's clothes off, put his body on the table and commenced to lash at it with a piece of rope, exclaiming at every stroke, "You thrashed me, you tiger, when you were living, and I'll thrash you now that you're dead." The mate happened to go into the cabin while this performance was going on, and was stricken with chill horror.
"My God, Ralph, what are you doing?" the mate shouted.
"Don't you see what I'm doing, you d——n fool?" said Ralph, "I'll teach the villain to lash me for doing nothing!"
"But," said Munroe, "his body will be marked, and we will be had up for murder!"
"There is no fear of that. A corpse never gets marked by beating it."
This assurance relieved Mr Munroe so much that he covered his strange companion with profuse compliments on his knowledge of the inanimate human body, and nicknamed him 'Ralph-ower-mony.' After this extraordinary being had finished his gruesome revenge on the dead body of his master, it was placed in a hastily-constructed deal casement, and put on top of the longboat, and then covered over with the Union Jack and an awning, so that it might be kept cool.
There is no class of Englishmen who regard the national flag with such reverence as the sailor; to him it is a divinity, used as an emblem of glory, or sorrow, as the case may be. He disdains making the noisy, vulgar use of it that is sometimes practised at meetings by unctuous, ill-read politicians, whose abnormal egotism, impudence and ignorance cause them to boast of a devotion for the flag equalled by no one else. The sailor, on the other hand, speaks of it as a thing too sacred to act circus games with. If his shipmate dies at sea, he is sewn up in canvas and covered over with the Union Jack; a heavy weight is placed at his feet, and, with heads bowed low, they silently commit his remains to the deep. If a sailor dies in port, the flag is used to cover the coffin as a solemn token of having died while serving under its beneficent protection. Think of the beautiful sentiment that governs the sailor's ideal of using it, and then, if you can, think of the blatant political person and the use he puts it to! How it reminds you of Petticoat Lane, and makes you pray that England may be delivered from such disgusting impertinence!
Mr Munroe had assumed command, and discussed with his crew the idea of a burial at sea. This was strenuously opposed by Ralph, who insisted that the body should be carried to England in case the question of foul play should arise. This course was adopted, and great precaution was taken to prevent premature decomposition. A smart breeze from the N.E. carried the little brig rapidly towards the land, and on the morning of the third day she sailed into the roadstead for which she had been steered. The dual courses had worked out an accurate landfall. Before the anchor was let go, the pilot cobble came alongside.
"Where's the captain?" asked the pilot.
"The beggar's dead, sir," answered Ralph, ignoring the respect he owed to his superior officer, Mr Munroe, who requested him to keep his tongue quiet and allow him to speak. The anchor was dropped, sails furled and flag put half-mast, and the pilot was requested to go ashore and acquaint the owner with what had happened. At eleven o'clock every forenoon a few well-known owners met in the parlour of an inn, there to discuss matters of personal and public interest. The banking accounts and characters of their neighbours who did not belong to the coterie were pulled remorselessly to pieces. If they happened to have progressive ideas and were successful, their speedy bankruptcy was predicted. Each member of the party had "churchwardens" kept in a bracket with his name on, and only one glass of whiskey and one pipe of tobacco was indulged in until the evening sitting, when they did not stick at trifles. But the keynote of these forenoon and evening sittings wasmoney. Mr Hobkirk and his friends had just got quietly seated and the conversation turned on the vessel that had been observed to anchor in the roads, when the pilot in wild excitement burst in upon their privacy, exclaiming:
"TheHebehas put back with the captain's dead body aboard!"
"How did he come by his death?" asked several of the party; "he was a stout, strong-looking man?"
"They say he died of drink," said the pilot.
"Ah," responded the comforting friends, "we told you, Hobkirk, what you might expect. You remember the voice coming down the chimney? That was his voice. We have been informed he could talk two ways. We never believed in him, and told you so."
"I admit it, gentlemen, I admit it. I have been deceived, but please do not refer to the chimney affair again; that unnerves me."
Instructions were given to the pilot to land the body of Captain Macgregor, and without any show of mourning the remains of this once brilliant man were put to rest in a drunkard's grave, close by the sea, far away from his own home. The story of how he came by his death and what subsequently occurred was told in all its ghastly detail to the pilots, who in turn spread it abroad, without diminishing the account given to them. Another captain was quickly engaged, and theHebesailed on her voyage. The late owners of Captain Macgregor were informed of his death, and about two weeks afterwards a comely-looking lady with a little boy of four years old called at Mr Hobkirk's house and asked for an interview. She was received with unfeigned displeasure. The owner commenced a vigorous tirade against the man who he considered had wronged him by killing himself with drink. The lady suddenly cut this flow of vindictive denunciation short by stamping her foot on the floor and shouting out: "Stop! I will listen to this no longer. I am the widow of the late captain. I have come from Scotland, not to hear your coarse abuse of him, but to learn where you have laid his body. Tell me this, and then I desire to hear no more from you. His effects and any money due from you to him you may send to this address."