Читать книгу A Bounty Boy - Frank Thomas Bullen - Страница 10

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Now that this momentous time in our hero’s life had arrived, all the affection felt for him by every member of the community welled up, and the slight reserve, manifested in spite of all efforts to hide it, because of his furious onslaught upon the savage strangers, melted away, leaving not a trace behind. He was hardly left alone a minute; both men and women crowded around him as if eager to see everything they could of him as long as they could. Many of the girls wept copiously, for he had been secretly worshipped by a goodly number of them, although he was quite fancy free, and had never singled one out for special notice. He might have been affianced to any girl he chose, for he possessed all the qualities that make a man beloved, but by some curious twist, the delights of love for the other sex had never appealed to him—as yet the love of one Christian for another, fostered by the love of God as it should be, had been found all sufficient for the needs of his heart.

At all this display of affection Captain Taber looked on amazed, for he had never seen anything like it before. In his experience people were shy of showing how much they loved a popular favourite, but these simple children of the sun believed in showing their love and were in no wise ashamed of doing so. He kept close by C. B.’s mother, who exercised a sort of fascination over him, and in response to her repeated entreaties that he would be good to her boy, replied—

“My dear lady, for lady you are of the greatest, I regard your son as a holy trust. He’s just the finest man to look at and hear speak I ever set eyes on, and as far as I am concerned, you may take it that he’ll do well. I have no favourites; as long as a man does his duty on board my ship he’s entitled to and gets the best treatment I can give him, and I take care that he isn’t put upon by anybody. But be comforted, marm, your son’s bound to make his way anywhere. He’ll get imposed upon, of course, until he learns that people such as you are very scarce outside this island. But that won’t do him much harm, I take it. Hallo! what’s this?”

This was the gathering together of the entire population of the island, including the temporary visitors, upon an open grassy knoll almost in the centre of the settlement, which was quite near to where Captain Taber and Grace were standing. As the people disposed themselves in picturesque attitudes upon the grass, Grace said to the captain—

“They are about to hold a prayer meeting to commend my son to the care of God while he is absent from us. We always do it when any one leaves the island, for we know how lonely they will feel but for the fellowship of Jesus.”

The captain bowed his head gravely, but did not trust himself to say anything. For one thing he felt sad and ashamed, knowing how careless and lax in respect to spiritual things he had long been, although his innate kindliness and sweet temper had preserved him from much evil.

The captain of the Thetis drew near and exchanged a cordial handshake with his American compeer, saying as he did so—

“We are apparently about to witness a peculiar sight—a whole people at prayer who all believe in what they’re doing. It is a moving spectacle.”

There was no time for more conversation, for all had arrived, and without further delay the white-haired old patriarch took up his parable, saying to his assembled flock—

“My beloved ones, let us in accordance with our valued custom commend our brother Christmas Bounty Adams to our loving Father. He goes out from us for a time into a world where we have heard that the name of God is lightly esteemed, where the worship of God is performed at stated intervals, but the life that has God for its centre and circumference is known to and lived by but a very few. But our God is able to keep our dear brother as he kept Philip his father, and we send him away full of confidence that he will live so as to show every one with whom he comes in contact that he is a Christ’s man and that it is a good and pleasant thing to be so. Now let us sing our favourite hymn, ‘O God of Bethel, by whose Hand.’”

The two captains turned pale under their tan, and their frames trembled with emotion as the glorious burst of human melody, unaided by any instrument, rose upon the still air. Never had they imagined anything like it, nor could they hardly believe their eyes when they saw the tears streaming down nearly every face. And when at last the sweet strains ceased, it seemed as if a certain beauty had suddenly left the world. Then the grand old leader’s voice arose in tenderest, most intimate intercourse with their Friend and Father. Nothing of the stereotyped, pumped-up oration, utterly misnamed prayer, so often heard in pseudo prayer meetings, but the close confidence of beloved children with a Father whose love was known and proved hourly throughout life. When he had finished, Philip stood up in touching simplicity and blessed God for his son’s strength and beauty and good life, held him up in his spiritual arms as it were, and gave him to the Father as Abraham did Isaac. Grace followed in an even deeper, sweeter strain, and then as her voice faltered and died away, as if at a preconcerted signal, all the gathering broke out in the majestic strains of St. Ann’s to “O God, our help in ages past,” followed immediately by the Old Hundredth.

The two captains were close together all the time, but neither spoke, hardly breathed, so impressed were they by the simple yet tremendous scene. When all was over, Captain Taber said sententiously—

“This just lays over all my experience. I’ve been to camp meetin’s before now and they begun quiet enough, but before they got far there was mor’en half of ’em just crazy, jumping mad, howlin’ and screechin’ like ’sif they was possessed with devils, as the Scripture says. But these folks seems full of earnestness, yet quiet and reverent all the time.”

“Yes,” responded the British captain, “though I’ve never been to a camp meeting, I’ve been to some other meetings in England where the behaviour of the folks has made me blush all over my body. And then again I’ve been to other meetings where everything was so formal and perfunctory that I could not think that any of them believed what they were saying or what they were hearing.”

Just then the old patriarch came up and claimed his guest, the British captain, but the latter said that he must rejoin his ship at once if the stuff was ready that he had purchased. He was amazed to find that during his stay ashore one heavy boatload had already been taken aboard, inquiring as he did so if his two passengers were ready and he would see them put on board. They were brought along helpless to hurt anybody, but using their foul tongues to their full power. The captain had serious thoughts of gagging them, but exercised his patience, remembering that once in the cells on board of his ship they might curse themselves dumb and hurt nobody’s ears.

So he departed, never to forget that visit and never to be forgotten by the people whom he had relieved, and in an hour’s time the Thetis turned on her heel and sped seaward on her way to Sydney. Then came C. B.’s turn. All his farewells were said, his exceedingly scanty wardrobe was packed in a mat, and all being snugly stowed in the whaleship’s boat, he, at the captain’s request, took the steer oar, while willing, loving hands ran the boat out on the crest of a departing roller and, the oars being handled with the usual skill, she shot out into the smooth beyond, amidst a chorus of farewells rapidly growing fainter as she receded.

Reaching the ship the ample load of fresh provisions was taken aboard with the usual smartness, and the boat hoisted into her place, while the new-comer gazed with keenest interest as the sails were trimmed and the ship filled away. For it must be remembered that for all his skill in handling a boat, whether under sail or oars, and his many visits to vessels, he had hitherto never been on board one of them while she was being handled, and consequently the whole business was of the newest and strangest to him. And here I must say that in all my conversations with landsmen about the sea life, I have ever found it one of the hardest tasks to explain that even the most experienced sailors, upon first going on board ship, have some considerable difficulty in becoming acquainted with her details. To the untrained eye she may look precisely the same as the ship our sailor has just left, but to the man who has to find in the blackest depth of night the gear about the deck by means of which the sails high over head are worked, there are certain to be many acute differences leading to much blundering and botherment until he gets used to them.

But this is very technical and needs much more space than can be spared to elucidate it properly, and even then I doubt very much whether the result would be considered worth while. So I fall back upon the fact that C. B., grand fellow as he undoubtedly was, stood and looked at what was going on, as the Eliza Adams’ yards were trimmed for standing off to sea, with a sense of utter bewilderment, which went far to dispel the admiration that his fine physique had excited among the crew in the morning—especially among his fellows, the other harponeers, who were all Portuguese, all full of enthusiasm for their business as well as of skill in carrying it on, but absolutely destitute of the finer feelings of humanity, ruthless and cruel beyond belief, and only restrained from excesses among their boats’ crews while on a whale by a wholesome respect for the strong man who ruled them.

These men bore no good will towards C. B. as a stranger and an interloper, and besides, they were jealous of the favour with which the skipper regarded him. Therefore, when he exhibited his ignorance of the handling of the ship, they were unrestrained in their jeering at him, and used their coarse limited English to its full extent in letting him see how they regarded him. But he only looked at them thoughtfully and wondered why they thus spoke to him, seeing that he had not offended them in any way as far as he could tell. And then the ship being fairly on her course for the south-east the mate, Mr. Winsloe, came to him and said—

“Now then, C. B., you had better see your quarters and make yourself acquainted with your shipmates. I can see you know but dern little about a ship, but I guess you’ll learn mighty quick. Come along.”

He led C. B. below to the narrow apartment on the port side where the harponeers, the carpenter and cooper, cook and steward lived together in a certain state, waited upon by a mulatto lad, and fed in precisely the same way as the captain and officers. Here Mr. Winsloe introduced him to the senior harponeer, a huge black Portuguese from Terceira, saying—

“Pepe, just take this chap in hand and show him the ropes. I believe he’s a boss whaleman, but a ship’s strange to him, and we want him to get used to her as soon as may be. And say”—here his voice dropped to a whisper—“just pass the word to the other fellows that there’s to be no fool hazing of this chap. He’s too good for it and we don’t want him spoiled. Besides, he’s quite up to acting ugly, and if he does and gets a knife between his ribs there’s going to be big trouble with the old man, an’ a joke ain’t worth all that.”

Fortunately C. B. heard nothing of this, but he noted the deep scowl on Pepe’s face as he replied—

“All right, sir. But you don’t ’spects me to look after him ’n keep d’other fellows from hazin’ ’im, do ye? Kaze if ye do I cain’t say as I thinks it far an’ reasonable, specially as he’s such a greenie.”

“Now, that’s enough er that guff, Pepe,” returned the mate warningly; “I know all about you and you know all about me.” Then turning to C. B. the mate went on—

“Now, young man, this is your home and this man is the boss of the show, not but what you’re all equal in theory; but there, you’ll find out what I mean quick enough, and I hope you’ll learn how to take a good-natured joke if you don’t know already.” And he departed on deck again, leaving the two men face to face.

For a while they eyed each other in silence, each apparently engaged in taking the other’s measure; but while C. B.’s gaze was full of kindly consideration, Pepe’s looked full of scowling hatred. At last Pepe muttered some foul remark and turned away somewhat discomfited. He could not understand the calm untroubled gaze, and he was far too good a judge of men not to know that the young giant that stood before him would be much too big a handful for even him to manage, big as he was, if it came to a rough and tumble. This in itself was enough to make him dislike the new-comer, for no man likes being suddenly deposed from a position of supremacy over his fellows.

Then the other harponeers came trooping down to supper, followed by the carpenter and cooper, who were both taciturn Down East Yankees of a good type, but, like most of their kind, utterly callous and godless, although splendid workmen and brave men. In the babel that ensued C. B. could not but notice that there were many blasphemous remarks levelled at him obliquely, although no one spoke to him direct. And this was in truth a fiery ordeal, seeing that he had never in his life heard anything of the kind except a few broken words that the two escaped prisoners used so freely, and they were scarcely intelligible to him. But far harder to bear than that, he noted with surprise, was the air of enmity aroused by his presence; he who was so sensitive that even the slight reserve manifested towards him after his outbreak in defence of his sister had cut him to the very soul.

But his father had warned him that he might expect something of the sort and that he must steel his heart against it, be strong to endure and rest in the Lord, like the three holy children before the king of Babylon. So he breathed an inward prayer for strength, and drawing up to a vacant place at the table, helped himself to some food. From life-long habit he bowed his head over his plate in thanks to the Giver for a moment, and there burst out a roar of harsh laughter. But this created a diversion, for the cooper growled—

“Shet up, ye heathen, an’ don’t jeer a better man than yerselves when he’s asking a blessin’. Doan’t ye take no notice of ’em, youngster; they don’t know no better.”

C. B. gave him a grateful glance and bravely attacked his food, having a perfectly healthy appetite, and the meal proceeded in silence. But when all hands lit pipes and corn cob cigarettes, the reek of the place immediately sickened him, and turning deathly pale he hurried on deck for air. The smell of the place, full as it was of the odours of stale oil, the smoke from the lamp and the effluvia of bilge-water, was bad enough to lungs that had always been accustomed to pure air, and the added fumes of tobacco made the combination unbearable.

On deck it was beautiful; a strong breeze was blowing, and the sturdy ship under easy sail was making good way through the water. Under the brilliant moon the bold outlines of his island home were fast fading into indistinctness, and for all his high resolves he felt a pang as he thought of all that he had left and the unknown troubles he was going to meet. And then a deep kindly voice behind him said—

“Well, Mr. Man, feeling a bit homesick, are ye? That’ll wear off mighty sudden, but in the meantime you’ve got to have some clothes. Come down into the cuddy and I’ll fit ye up.”

It was the captain who had sought him out, knowing how easy it is for these islanders to get a chill when first leaving the genial climate of their home for the wide keenness of the sea, and knowing too how scantily his new recruit was provided with clothes. So together they went down into the little cabin, where, aided by the steward, Captain Taber produced a complete outfit of clothes including boots, which C. B. looked dubiously at and then shook his head merrily, saying—

“I’ve never had a boot on in my life, captain, and I’m afraid I shouldn’t be able to walk in them now.”

“True, my boy, I’d forgotten that,” laughed the skipper. “Well, we’ll cut the boots out, and now your account is twenty-two dollars, so you’d better pray for whale to enable you to pay off your score. Cart your dunnage below and get off to ye’er bunk, for I guess you’ve got the middle watch.”

C. B. gathered up his bundle of clothes and carried them to his berth, where he found several of his berth-mates had already turned in, but they were all smoking furiously. So he could only stay below long enough to get into some warm clothing, and then, feeling sick and silly, he climbed on deck again, a blanket on his arm, to seek a spot where he might sleep without fear of being suffocated. This experience of knowing not where to lay his head was totally unexpected by him, for it was the one thing his father had omitted to mention as being among the hardships of a seafaring life. And he began to wonder whether in all his career he should meet with anything harder to bear, being by nature a perfect lover of pure air.

However, he found a corner which struck him as being out of the way, and laid himself down upon the planks, drew the blanket over himself and commended himself to God, and like a perfectly healthy animal was almost immediately fast asleep. He was roughly aroused at midnight by one of the harponeers, who inquired caustically whether he thought he was going to be a passenger and have all night in. He at once sprang up and asked what his duties were, but his interlocutor turned away with a mocking laugh, muttering—

“Ef yew fink Ise goin’ t’ be yer nuss yous way off.”

So he went aft, where his instinct told him he should find the officer of the watch, and when he discovered that functionary, a thickset taciturn Yankee from Providence, Rhode Island, he courteously asked him if he might be told what to do. Mr. Spurrell gave a snort, being in a middle-watch humour, but he was a man of the most inflexible justice, and his leading principle compelled him to answer the honest question straightforwardly, instead of as so often happens overwhelming the novice with contumely for asking. He informed C. B. that his only duty was to keep on the alert, going forward occasionally to see if the lookout was being properly kept by the man, and if any sail-trimming had to be done to try and master the details of it, the how and why, so that presently in case of an emergency he might be able to take the watch himself.

C. B. thanked the officer gravely, and then, a happy thought striking him, asked if he might put in his first watch on deck learning to steer the ship. Steering a boat he was as we know an adept at, but using a ship’s wheel and compass is a very different matter, and he was unwilling to remain ignorant of anything for a moment longer than was necessary for him to learn it. Fortunately there was an able Kanaka from Samoa at the wheel, who spoke reasonably understandable English and was delighted to show C. B. all he knew. Thus it came about that at four bells, that is at the end of the Samoan’s trick at the wheel, C. B. could steer almost as well as his teacher. For there are some men born helmsmen, who learn with astounding ease and rapidity, others who to the last day of their lives never seem to be able to keep a ship, a sailing ship that is, anywhere near her course. Of course steering steamships is, like so many other things at sea in steamers, a purely mechanical process, and if a man does not do it well it argues that he is careless or lazy or both.

The wind held steady, so that the new-comer had no opportunity of learning anything about sail handling this watch, but it had passed away very rapidly and pleasantly, and when eight bells struck C. B. felt more contented than he had been since coming on board. Also he recognized how much he would have to learn, and was correspondingly eager to get on with that learning. But now he had to face the hole below, for the work of cleansing the ship for the day was beginning, the Eliza Adams being, like all those old-time south-seamen from New England, kept as spick and span as any yacht, quite contrary to generally accepted notions, and also in great contrast to the condition in which our English whalers used to be allowed to remain.

The foul atmosphere caught him by the throat as he entered, but he set his teeth and persevered, climbing into his bunk and lying there suffering until he went off into an almost drugged slumber. From this he was aroused at seven bells, 7.20 a.m., to breakfast, which was good and plentiful; but he was not able to eat a morsel, and had to rush on deck for relief. As soon as he appeared the captain saw him, and immediately noticed that there was something wrong with him. Calling him, the skipper inquired in kindly fashion after his health, and on being told what was the matter, raised his eyebrows wonderingly, for the complaint was new to him. And indeed it is nothing short of miraculous to me how men could live at all in such foul dens, reeking with stench and disease-laden air as they were. But of course the poisoning process did not go on long enough to kill, and the strong pure air of heaven when they came on deck soon acted as an antidote to the evil in the blood. A greater mystery still is the way in which our peasantry deliberately choose thus to poison themselves. Working all day in the strong pure breath of the fields, they will go to their cottages and, in company with a large family, close up every cranny whereby a little fresh air can creep in, and soak in that foul fug until the morning. Ugh!

So all the consolation the skipper could give C. B. was that he would soon get used to it as everybody else had to. And with that poor comfort C. B. had to be content. Now while the captain went on talking to him about the island life there was a cry from aloft, “Porps, porps.” A school of porpoises had joined the vessel, and were indulging in their graceful sinewy gambols under the bows as usual.

“Now, my boy,” cried the skipper, “is your time to show your shipmates what you can do with the iron. Your shot yesterday was a fancy one, I’ll admit, but this is a different matter. Come along forrard.”