by Samuel Sidney (uncredited).
Originally published in Household Words (Bradbury & Evans) vol.2 #31 (26 Oct 1850).
Having made up my mind to sail for Australia, my next care was to select a vessel. They were not so plentiful, so punctual, or so much puffed as they are now. For want of knowing any better, and partly from a dislike to crowds that has always been part of my character, and perhaps did much toward making me happy in the Bush when friends and companions of the same age were miserable, I took a passage in a small, fast-sailing brig, under two hundred tons burden, which was intended to be sold for a coaster in the colony. The captain was going out to settle; he took his wife with him, but I was the only passenger. Captains on shore, and captains at sea are quite different creatures. This was one of the old school. On shore, he seemed like a jolly fellow, rough and good-natured—at sea, he was a perfect brute, got drunk every evening, thrashed his wife, and ill-used his men; but, although profoundly ignorant on most subjects, a thorough seaman.
On the morning we were to sail, we lay in the stream of the Mersey, blue Peter flying and anchor tripped; we waited for the captain and mate so long, it seemed as if we should miss the tide. At length he came, as fast as two pair of oars could pull him, looking very red and angry; no mate, but a strange man sitting in the stern sheets beside him. It seemed the mate had given him the slip at the last moment, and he had been obliged to engage the stranger, with very little enquiry. This man was a lanky north country man, with a deadly pale face, without whiskers, a bald forehead, an immense mouth, black eyes, with an awful squint, and a costume of seedy black, so that he looked much more like a hedge schoolmaster than a sailor. He carried a parcel of sea-faring clothes in his hand, which the captain had been obliged to buy for him at the nearest slopshop. He brought nothing else, but a large very light chest, and an enormous appetite. But, in spite of his unprepossessing appearance, and shore-going costume, the crew at once recognised him as a regular sea-dog. Indeed, by the time he got into his pea-coat and loose trowsers, and had a fortnight of our fare, if he did not grow handsomer, he seemed, at any rate, transformed into the style of man that attracts thunders of applause in a minor theatre as a wicked pirate. At least, that was my impression when, after a fortnight's landsman's misery, I crept on deck in the Bay of Biscay, to see the "seas" not "in mountains rolling," but as still as a mill-pool; and our mate, Mr. Clank, his complexion very much improved by sea air and salt water, taking his turn at the helm, in regular "old salt style."
I have now made the long sea voyage half-a-dozen times, and have come to the same conclusion I did at the end of my first—that there are very few who can do much real work at sea. On shore it is very easy to prepare journals, plan a course of study, lay in a store of scientific books, but when once you get into blue water, your berth becomes a very Castle of Indolence. What with sea-sickness, and the appetite that follows your recovery, you find your time pretty well consumed by eating, drinking, smoking, and dozing, relieved by reading a novel or playing a game at cards. There are exceptions, as, perhaps, on board a yacht, where you can go ashore when you please; but, as a general rule, gossip and brandy-and-water are the two great resources of a long voyage—more shame to the weakness of the passengers.
For my part, by the time I got my sea-legs I had every inducement to study, for the captain and his wife were no companions to me. I did read my store of books twice over, learned to splice a rope, and, after a fashion, to hand, reef, or steer; had a good deal of chat with an old sailor, who afterwards became one of my best hands in the Bush, but the end was, that, in spite of my instinctive prejudice, I was drawn into intimacy with the mate. He could talk, and, like most persons who can, was communicative to a degree that he must have often found disagreeable, if not dangerous, but conversation was a necessity to him, and I have no doubt he would have related his adventures to a Black gin or a Police officer, sooner than remain silent. So I used to sit smoking in the evening, and far on into the night, while he murmured away his adventures in his strong northern burr, like a talking mountain torrent.
I soon found that my companion was a finished scoundrel up to the chin, in every sort of rascality. On shore I should never have spoken to him twice: at sea he was amusing. He had been everywhere, and in every sort of craft, according to his own account; had had money and lived in great style, told stories of whales, slavers, Indiamen and pirates, by the dozen. He early confided to me that nothing but misfortune would have driven him to engage in such "a miserable little tub of a craft, under such a know-nothing lubber as Captain Glum. A misfortune, Sir, that any gentleman might have fallen into."
This misfortune he presently let me know, consisted in having been convicted of bigamy and sentenced to two years' imprisonment. He had only been discharged a couple of days, when he joined us. To hear him, he was a victim,—just one of those heroic victims of London passions one meets with in French and German novels. He ended his story by saying,
"So I've paid the penalty; and now I'm free, and next time I shall manage better." For already he had his eye on a third wife. After this, before turning in for that night, he begged a couple of shirts of me.
A few days afterwards he again drew me into conversation, saying,
"Excuse me, but I've been thinking what a pity it is that a smart, clever young gentleman like you, should go to bury yourself up in the Bush, beyond Sydney there. I've been up there myself, once; but there's no life, no fun, nothing suitable—nothing go-a-head, as the Yankees say. The sea's the thing for a man of spirit."
"I thought there was very little to be done at sea, now-a-days."
"No more there is in the old jog-trot; but you have behaved very much like the gentleman, and I don't mind telling you a thing or two. I've been in a whaler hailing from Sydney; and it wasn't whales we made our money by, I can tell you. The time, it's about five years; we'd been out four months after sperm whale, and done next to nothing. I was second mate; the first mate was a Yankee, and the captain was a native Australian. The crew were a lot of all sorts and colours. One of our best harpooners was a New Zealander, and another a half-breed from Hudson's Bay. Some prime seamen among them, but not to be trusted ashore. Well there was a regular grumbling about our bad luck; for you see whalers are manned on the 'lay.' No wages, every man has a share in the take. I'd noticed the captain and the mate very thick, jawing together in a whisper up and down the quarter-deck; and so one day, it was a Sunday, mind, the captain slips into the cabin and soon after sends for me. There was he with the spirit-case before him, and the mate sitting cheek by jowl. 'Take a seat. A glass of grog, Mr. Clank;' says he, quite civil, and the mate gets up and shuts the door; 'help yourself;' and with that he shoves the rum over to me, 'and don't spoil it with water.' You may believe I didn't wait for twice asking; and it I was prime staff, 'Surely; slipped down one's throat like new milk. 'Take another,' says he; and when he said that, I knew there was mischief up, let alone his being so civil. When I'd drawed my breath, the captain began again—
"'Bad luck so far, Mr. Clank; we shan't have much to take home for our wives and sweethearts, at this rate.'
"'Why no,' says I, 'we couldn't have been more unlucky if we'd had a black cat or a parson aboard.'
"'And yet,' puts in the mate, 'there's better things than whales to be found in these seas sometimes for those that have the pluck to pick them up!' I could see the captain was watching me all the time.
"So I answers, rather slow 'Well I'm game, as long as it's follow my leader.' The captain gives a deep 'ah,' as if he was satisfied, and turning to the mate, with a wink, says, 'Well I think we may put her about,' and so he offered his box of Manillas to take my choice, which I took for a hint to back out.
"That night we shifted our course until we got right into the Straits of Sunda.
"One afternoon a short time after this talk in the cabin, the mate calls to me, and puts his glass into my hand, and begs me to take a squint at something right aways on our starboard bow.
"'What do you make out?' says he.
"'John Chinaman,' says I, 'a regular Noah's ark; one, two, three, a regular fleet of junks.'
"'That's just it,' says the mate, these are better than sperm whales. That's the Monsoon fleet going down to buy goods at Singapore. There's a merchant in every one of those junks with a cabin like a parlour, a regular shop all to himself. He has his goods all nicely packed in small packages, and his money in silver ingots and dollars in jars ranged round like an apothecary's shop; so, as soon as it's dusk, I think we must go and do a bit of trade with the Chinaman.'
"I dropped down in a minute. You know, Sir, I would not, on any account, have done anything against Christians like ourselves, but you see to take anything from these Pagans, with their Idols and their Joss Houses, was only spoiling the Egyptian—spoiling the Egyptian, Sir."
My squinting, friend, who. had been drinking all the time at my expense, said this with a sort of hypocritical snuffle, quite indescribable; perhaps he was afraid of going too far with me. He continued, "We kept edging off and on till it was dark, just keening the junk fleet in view. I had a couple of boats all ready and some picked hands, a lot of cutlasses, and a dozen handspikes at the bottom of the boat under a sail. We said aloud we were going to have a trade with the Chinaman. The lights of the joss-houses served us to steer by; we did it as neat and comfortable as could be. The first junk the crew were all asleep until we were on deck, though it was a heavy climb, but we had hooks for that all ready.
"The mate knew where the merchant was to be found, walked straight there, while all but three kept guard forward, and in less than half an hour we had all the silver and half-a-dozen bundles of silk in the boats. The second junk we had to quilt one fellow, though generally a dozen will run like sheep before one of our sort. Altogether we made a very good night of it, and, before morning were clean out of sight; and we played that game as long as the season lasted. The crew were very well satisfied; we put into South American Ports, and got rid of the most knowing. When, we got back into Sydney my share was better than three hundred pounds. I don't know what the captain said to the owners, but they seemed very well content to ask no questions."
"Why, good heavens!" I involuntarily and foolishly exclaimed, at the end of this rascally relation, " that was rank piracy."
"'Oh no, Sir, only not like cleaning, out a square-rigged ship; those yellow pig-eyed fellows, with their pigtails, would not be believed on their oaths; only spoiling the Egyptians."
So saying, he took a huge gulp at the grog. It was too dusk under the shadow of the sail for me to see the expression of his countenance, or for him to see that of mine, as he mouthed his pet phrase as if it had been an answer to everything.
Warming with the grog, and my silence, which he took for consent, he recommenced, "Why, Sir, that's nothing to what a friend of mine did to get a cargo of sandal-wood. You see he was master of a small schooner in the sandal-wood trade—that's a bartering trade with the South Sea Islanders, who are most of them fierce savages, and many of them cannibals. He'd sold his cargo pretty well and went into port to lay in a stock of articles for barter, and have a spree; and spree he did, to that extent that he not only spent all his money, but when he came to be sober, he found he had married a lass that he certainly would not have chosen if he had known it; a regular vixen, above five feet ten, with a colour, like a rose, and a lot of fair hair that hung to her waist nearly; a real beauty; but when her back was up, and that was about twice a day, she'd smash everything and everybody near; Well, here was a pretty concern, his money spent and a wife on his hands that would run him in more debt in a month than he could pay off in a year. However, it was done; he could not give up the port, it was too profitable; so he thought his case over calmly, and soon made up his mind.
"He invited his wife to go to sea for a short trip, which she was very willing to do. Before many weeks she'd given the captain a black eye and bred a mutiny. The men came aft and insisted on the lady being put ashore; however my friend managed to pacify them.
"At length they reached the Sandal Wood Island and King Kettle came on board; an Indian king, so called because he had made a crown of a bright copper kettle. The captain presented him with a second-hand drummer's coat, besides other valuables, and introduced him to his wife, who divided the savage's admiration with the coat; he had never seen any white woman but an old one before.
"The captain went on shore with King Kettle, and the next day without the usual delays, the natives began bringing a cargo of sandal-wood down to the beach; they got the finest lot I even saw; when it was loaded, King Kettle invited the captain and his lady to go ashore to a feast and dance. I will say that for her, she was afraid of nothing; the captain, before all the crew, recommends her not to go, and that makes her positive that she would. She puts on a light, green satin dress with short sleeves, scarlet satin turban with an ostrich feather, all her hair hanging in curls down her back, and a pair of pocket pistols in her belt. She looked so grand, for all the crew were so mad with her goings on, they gave her three cheers when she stepped into the boat. Well, the captain came back alone, and told the crew his wife would stop, a piece of news that vexed nobody but one young fellow, who was for arming a boat, but nobody needed him. At any rate, they up anchor and made sail, for it was a place where more than one ship's company had been murdered. However, there were people that will have it he sold his wife to King Kettle for that cargo of sandal-wood; and when, twelve months after, news came that King Kettle, after worshipping his white wife for some time, had had his patience exhausted like many others, and not only killed but eaten her, according to the custom of the country; my friend's only remark was an expression of wonder whether he digested her, 'Because,' says he, 'if he did, King Kettle's the only person she ever could agree with!'"
This story, so coolly told, quite finished me up. With a short good night, and a very hollow laugh at King Kettle's digestion, I turned in, having first loaded my pistols and put them under my pillow. My dreams were not very pleasant. It would have been odd if they had been, transplanted so suddenly from the calm security of civilisation to the middle of the ocean, bound up in the space of a few square feet, certainly without a friend, and probably with a felon.
I was awakened by a fearful cry, and rushed upon deck at the same time as the captain. There was a large ship bearing right down upon us, the man at the wheel in his fright threw the brig up into the wind.
"Starboard," roared the captain to the stranger ship, snatching up a speaking trumpet. "Starboard" we all shrieked in chorus, the shrill voice of the captain's wife above all. Through the moonlight, I saw something white dash at the wheel of the stranger, and just as her bowsprit was over us she paid slowly off, and past us, grinding, along our stern with a sound that chilled me to my heart. We were saved. The captain's wife fell on her knees and returned thanks for our wonderful escape; most of us followed her example, but when the mate, who had been lying, in a drunken sleep on deck, came up rubbing his eyes, the captain snatched up a handspike and knocked him down; the mate jumped and flew on him like a tiger, but the crew were too quick for him and got him down; in the mean time the captain had run for his pistols, but after a great row the mate went forward, and we all coiled down again in our berths.
A few days afterwards, the water turned bad. The owners, to save money, had given us half-cleansed beer-barrels, so it was decided to put into Rio de Janeiro. After the running-down night, the mate had been disrated, and sent forward among the men, for it
was his watch, and it seemed as if the watches in both vessels had been asleep. From that time he was never sober. He had found out the way to bore a hole in a cask of rum, and suck at it through a thin bamboo tube every evening at dusk.
I was sitting one morning reading Don Quixote for the second time, when Clank came with a piece of wood in his hand, and asked me to lend him a large case-knife, that, among other foolish things stuck into emigrants, I had purchased for my outfit. I handed it to him without a word; he went straight to the grindstone and began to sharpen it. "Halloa!" cried impudent, little Duds, the cabin-boy, "are you going to kill a pig this morning? A bit of fresh meat would be a treat." "You shall have fresh meat enough in five minutes," was the answer. "I'm going to cut that infernal captain's liver out!" and with that he sprang at the captain, who was just coming on deck. As luck would have it, one of the men, a sharp fellow, was coming aft, with a handspike. In an instant he threw it so cleverly, it took the mate Between the legs and flung him flat; the knife flew out of his hand overboard, his head striking the captain in the middle of his fat paunch, upset him. Two or three of us jumped on top of the mate, who began to howl like a demon, and no wonder; for, in my anxiety to keep him down, I never thought of the cigar in my mouth, and all the time the crew were making a spread eagle of him, I was burning a hole in the back of his neck with the red end of it.
We made him hard and fast, for he was raving mad with delirium tremens. To cool him, every time the watch was called, the captain had a bucket or two of salt water thrown over him.
F our days before we reached Rio, a low, long, black schooner hailed and asked very anxiously for news from Europe. They sent a boat aboard us, and we all fully thought we were in for a regular clearance. The officer in command, a black-bearded, neat-looking little fellow, spoke broken English with a French accent. Whether it was that they were only slavers, or that we were not worth robbing, or that they had better business on hand; after accepting a file of newspapers, and asking me especially, as I spoke French, what news from France, they were about to depart, when the officer's eyes fell upon our prisoner in chains.
With a start, and a French oath, he exclaimed, "T'ien c'est toi, Monsieur Louche, que diable fait-tu ici?"
Then followed a whispering, which ended by the Frenchman coolly saying to the captain, "Dis is a friend of mine; I vil save you de trouble of taking him any more." With that they hurried into their boat, and in a few minutes we had seen the last of the Dominie, as a Scotch sailor had named him.
Years passed before we met again.