Читать книгу A Son of the Sea - John Arthur Barry - Страница 5

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TORRE'S last job was to sweep the decks fore and aft. It was dark when he finished, and he had then to run sharp for the supper whilst the other three sat on their chests and looked at him sourly. So far his day had been a round of ceaseless drudgery. Had he known how many similar ones were before him he would, likely enough, have walked ashore and steered due west to the "Tavistock," where his uncle was stopping.

At dinner-time he had used a piece of canvas for wiping the plates with. That had disappeared, and he was at a loss. "Take one o' yer fine white sarks," said Campbell, with a laugh. "It's all the use ye'll ever hae for them."

In the end Torre was obliged to use a clean new handkerchief, "best Irish linen at 2s. 6d."

The three now opened their chests and prepared themselves for going ashore, there being, apparently, no objection to their doing so. And Torre was astonished to see the difference in their outfits and his. Plain suits of blue pilot cloth with bone buttons, knitted guernseys, and socks and sea-boot stockings, for heavy weather wear—dungaree for fine—flat Scotch caps, and rough flannel shirts, everything for use, and nothing for ornament. Perhaps some ten or twelve pounds' worth altogether.

Tired, and feeling dirtier than he had ever done in his life, Torre made his bed, after a fashion, noticing, as he did so, that he was the only one who indulged in the luxury of sheets and pillow-slips. Then, turning in, he blew out the double-spouted oil lamp that hung from the ceiling, and, whilst feeling very much inclined to cry, fell asleep and never awoke till a rough hand shook him, and a rough voice bade him rouse out and go to the force-pump.

The dawn was just breaking, and already the Andromeda with a tug ahead of her, was slipping down the river. A chill, cheerless scene it was, and a cold wind shrilled through the bare rigging with a hollow harsh note that struck strangely on the lad's ear as he worked away at the pump-brakes with Munro, whilst the second mate and some of the men washed the decks.

At Gravesend, he heard some one say, they were to make fast to the buoys and take powder on board. There, too, the captain and his passengers would join the Andromeda.

After the decks had been washed down and the usual breakfast-fetching and scullery business got through, the second mate, whose name was Phillips, a rough, sulky sort of fellow, evidently at some time promoted from the forecastle, roared out to Torre: "Hi, boy, lie aft now, and polish this brasswork-binnacle, skylight-gratin's, everythin'. Come, sling your long carcase about, or you'll get shifted!"

Pounded bath-brick and oil were supplied to him by the steward, a pale, unwholesome-looking man with a pasty fat face, out of which a great carbuncle of a nose fairly glowed. He spoke with a vile Glasgow accent, and utterly refused to give Torre any cloths.

"Nae, nae," said he, "the shep doesna find ye in ony sic looxurees. Ye maun jist bang aboot for rags o' yer ain. Brawn an' Co., nae doot, hae providit ye wi' lots o' stuff that's nae use for aught else ava. Awa' wi' ye noo!" And Torre, seeing no help for it, tore up one of his shirts to make "polishers" of. Munro was steering, and the other two were aloft, busy about something.

As Torre rubbed away at the brass band and boss of the wheel, Munro asked, "Did ye pay a premium to come to sea, youngster?"

"Eighty pounds," replied Torre rather dolefully, as he looked at his grimy hands and clothes.

"Good Lord!" said the other. "What fools some folk are, to be sure? Eighty punds for the privilege of bein' loblolly boy to the sailors!"

"But surely you paid, too?" asked Torre in amazement.

"Not one of us," said the other. "Mair sense an' less money than ye've got. We're the skipper's apprentices, a' three of us. First year we got nothin'. Now, this last one, we're gettin' a pund sterling a month. Pay to come to sea! Not much! Nobody'll teach ye anythin', here, if they think ye've money."

Lamp trimming was Torre's next occupation—side-lights, binnacles, riding-lights, the lamps out of the first and second mates' berth, and his own. And as he sat on the main-hatch surrounded with these articles, polishing them, cutting their wicks and filling them with fresh oil, his clothes and hands blacker and dirtier than ever, the ship arrived at Gravesend; and to his delight, amongst the first to step on board were his uncle and Edie, who stared in astonishment as they saw his occupation. Then, noticing the boy's flush of shame and embarrassment, the old man said kindly, "They're making you useful, eh, Torre? Can't begin too soon, you know. I suppose this is only a bit of preliminary to see what you're made of."

But Edie was angry, and said, frankly, "Oh, Torre, dear, is this sailors' work? And look at your hands and face and clothes all smudgy! Father, won't you speak to the captain about it?"

"It's all right, Edie," said Torre, bravely, but with a gulp in his throat, "I expect it's what everybody's got to do when they first come to sea. It isn't nice, certainly. But, perhaps, it's as well to be able to know how to manage such matters."

Not for worlds would he have told them his real thoughts and feelings, or confessed how his soul loathed these first experiences, of which, too, something seemed to warn him he had not yet seen the worst.

The decks were crowded with people; there was no privacy anywhere. So, presently, Mr Bovey and Edie said good-bye, the latter kissing Torre heartily before all hands, despite lampblack and oil. "Good-bye, dear," she whispered, "I shall have no one to take my part now against Laban. Oh, Torre, I'll always think of you and love you. I'll write to Sydney, and—and—" But here poor Edie broke down, and was led away sobbing by her father, whilst Torre, in not very much better case, returned to his lamps.

When, or how, the ship eventually got off and down the river, Torre never knew. He was kept far too busy. All day long it was boy here and boy there, until his legs were almost too tired to carry him. He was called to get coals for the cook out of the forepeak; to help the steward to stow stores away in the lazarette; to feed the pigs and fowls; in fact, do as much of the menial dirty work of the ship as one pair of hands could effect.

Off Dungeness the tug left them with a fair wind, and Torre saw sail made on a ship for the first time; and was taught that his duty consisted, on such occasions, of pulling and hauling at, and then coiling up, ropes. That night, on watches being chosen and set, he found himself in the second mate's—the starboard one—along with Munro, the captain's nephew. The other two lads were taken by the chief mate.

Munro felt it hard to have a new chum with him, and did not forget to tell Torre so, after coming down from furling the mizzen top-gallant sail, where our lad had not been of much use to him. It was his first journey aloft, and bewildered by the motion, the height, and the flapping and banging of the sail, he had found it took most of his time to hold on. Also he lost his cap. In fact, during the next few days he lost them all, and was obliged to swap a pair of new boots to Campbell for a glengarry which would not blow off. Of course this was an imposition, but, as Campbell remarked drily, "There's a big differ, ye ken, atween sea prices an' lan' prices."

So far his companions were not actually brutal towards the newcomer. But they were very far from kind. Nor did they even attempt to teach him anything. Indeed, rather the contrary, for if he asked a question, the probable answer was a jeer, and a scoff to the effect that gentlemen's sons had no business at sea. Certainly Torre was unlucky in that his lot should have been cast in company with specimens of those lower middle-class Scotch boys with regard to whom it has been popularly said that they serve the same purpose in the same place as do good intentions. But he had no choice. He would, however, have done far better as an ordinary seaman in the forecastle amongst the men, have learnt more, been treated better, have saved his money, and not been made altogether a scullion and a rouseabout of. The captain never by any chance deigned to speak to him. As for the passengers, of whom there were five, they probably thought it was part of the usual routine—as it really is, even in far more important lines than the D. D. and S.—for the youngest apprentice to scrub out the officers' berths, feed pigs, carry coal, trim lamps, be at the nod and beck of the men, and generally remain in a state of dirt and discomfort, watch in, watch out. So there was nothing really very unusual or personal to him, particularly in the menial duties that took up poor Torre's every minute on board the Andromeda. The other three had been through it, but without feeling it so keenly, not only because of constitutional indifference, but by reason of their having all commenced their sea career together, thus being enabled to divide the labour. The plain fact of the matter is, that in very many cases the apprenticing of a boy to the sea is an utter sham, except in vessels specially devoted to the training of them, and then the expense is generally prohibitive. And it is nearly time parents and guardians should know the real state of affairs, and how heavily they have to pay that their sons and wards may learn the correct way to clean out a pigstye, trim a lamp-wick, and use a broom and scrubbing-brush—all arts, it would seem, absolutely necessary to the making of an officer in the British Mercantile Marine.

Another thing that embittered Torre's life, as he was living it now, was the open hostility of Mr Phillips, the second mate. Although he was careful to keep his hands off the boy, he never lost an opportunity of using the foulest language he could towards him. A coarse, rough brute, of a species fortunately becoming rarer every year, his only aim appeared to be to make the lad like himself. And as he could neither induce Torre, during this first probation, to smoke, chew, swear, nor drink, he vowed the youngster was a softy, and would never make a sailor.

Of course, if Torre had complained to the captain the latter would probably have interfered. But the lad bore it all silently, contenting himself with a promise, registered heart-deep, that no more voyages would he take in the Andromeda if Mr Phillips was on board her. Often, now, in his watch below, Torre used to slip into the forecastle, and there some of the men, only too pleased when they saw how willing the lad was, taught him to splice and knot; the use of the compass; and to handle a palm and needle. Fortunately it was some time before this came to the ears of the captain, who, then, at once stopped these most useful visits, and gave orders that Torre was to keep to his own quarters when not on duty.

Still, at every opportunity, the men encouraged and taught him odds and ends of his profession. They saw that, in spite of all the disadvantages he laboured under, he loved the sea, and would, in time, make a sailor. So they took an interest in him, but for which, during this first passage, he would scarcely have known one mast from the other. Many boys who have not the faculty for "picking up" things, and require to have knowledge firmly but kindly drilled into them before they can hope to comprehend anything of the vast minutiæ of sea-craft, serve their four years in hopeless drudgery, are put down, simply from want of a little teaching, as incurable blockheads, and leave their profession eminently qualified for a billet as scullion or farmyard helper.

One of the most distasteful of Torre's many distasteful duties was, at times, to nurse Mrs M'Cutcheon's baby, for whom, also, he had to milk a goat every morning.

And still, as has been said, he loved his profession, although the path to the learning of it had turned out so utterly different from anything his imagination could have possibly pictured in its wildest flights. The Andromeda, too, was a fine little clipper of some 800 tons, composite built, i.e., wood on an iron framework, and a "goer." But she was terribly wet owing to her length and her lack of beam. Thus for weeks together, on her main deck, from forecastle-head to break of poop, often there would be no dry spot visible. She was deep, too, and M'Cutcheon drove her along for all she was worth whenever he got the chance. He had a reputation for fast passages, and was always trying to make records. Also, a believer in studding-sails, just then going out of fashion as not paying for wear and tear of gear, he kept the crew box-hauling them about day and night in light winds.

But when, at odd times, Torre would run out to the flying-jiboom-end, and, holding on by the royal stay, look in at the great towering, outstretched mass of snow-white cloths piling their full and graceful curves, tier above tier, from the big courses to the tiny skysail reeling against the blue, as the clipper rose her sharp bows and carried them yearning along before dropping into the creaming swirl again, he thought that nowhere in the world could be seen a more gallant or captivating spectacle. And the sailor's heart of him throbbed with delight as he rose and fell with the taper spar, standing there solitary, swaying to the jubilant motion of the beautiful fabric as it came roaring and foaming at him with that infinite majesty of motion only possessed by a ship going free, and with everything drawing from the crowning skysails to the flights of triangular staysails between her masts, and the stu'nsails reaching far out on either side. This was the sort of thing that made Torre's soul happy, and compensated for not a few hours during which, engaged in one or other of his many squalid occupations, his spirit nearly failed him.

So far, and they were now running their Easting down with the Roaring Forties and a mountainous sea behind them, nothing had occurred to break the monotony of the passage. Now three incidents happened, one at least of which helped to make matters easier for Torre.