CHAPTER VIII.--CAPTAIN TALBOT SPINS A YARN.
"Why, boys, and you youngsters," said Captain Talbot, "when I look backto those dear old times I feel old myself, and that's a fact. As I saidbefore, we were cruising about the East African coast, making it just ashot for the slaver Arabs as we knew how to. We had a bit of a fight nowand then, too, both on shore and afloat.
"Well, your man-o'-war's-man likes that, simple and all though he seemsto be. Simplicity, indeed, is one of the chief traits in the characterof the true British sailor. I'm not sure that it might not be said withsome degree of truth, that no one who wasn't a little simple to beginwith, would ever become a sailor at all. Nobody, not even a landsman,grumbles and growls more at existence afloat than does Jack himself,whether he be Jack in epaulets or Jack in a jumper, Jack walking theweather-side of the quarter-deck or Jack mending a main-sail. But forall that, when Jack has a spell on shore, especially if it be of a fewmonths' duration, he forgets all the asperities of the old sea life, andremembers only its jollities and pleasantnesses, and the queeradventures he had--of which, probably, he boasts in a mitigated kind ofway--and by and by he gets tired of the dull shore, and maybe sings withProctor:
'I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more'.
And then he goes back again. Another proof of Jack's simplicity.
"Well, but some of the very bravest men or officers I have met withwere, or are, as simple in their natures as little children--simple butbrave.
"Gallant and good--how well the two adjectives sound together whenapplied to a sailor. Did not our Nelson himself apply them in one ofhis despatches to Captain Riou, mentioned by Thomas Campbell in hisgrand old song 'The Battle of the Baltic':
'Brave hearts! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true, On the deck of fame that died With the gallant, good Riou, Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, And the mermaid's song condoles-- Singing glory to the souls Of the brave!'
"There never was a more simple-looking sailor than Assistant-PaymasterMair (let us call him Mair). He was round-faced, fat, and somewhatpale, but always merry, and on good terms with himself and everybodyelse. He had the least bit in the world of a squint in his starboardeye. This ocular aberration was more apparent, when he sat down andcommenced playing an asthmatical old flute he possessed. I don't thinkanybody liked this flute except Mair himself, and no wonder it wasasthmatical, for we were constantly playing tricks on it. We havetarred it and feathered it ere now, and once we filled it with boilinglard, and left it on Mair's desk to cool. But Mair didn't care; ourpractical joking found him in employment, so he was happy.
"Mair had never been in an engagement, though some members of our messhad; and, when talking of their sensations when under fire, Mair usedfrankly to confess himself 'the funkiest fellow out'.
"It came to pass that the old _T----_ had to engage a fort, andpreparations were made for a hot morning. The captain was full of spiritand go--one of those sort of men who, when both legs are shot away,fight on their stumps.
"Mair had his orders the night before, given verbally, in an easy,off-hand kind of way. He was to stand by the captain on the bridge orquarter-deck, and take notes during the engagement or battle. PoorMair! he didn't sleep much, and didn't eat much breakfast. We met justoutside the ward-room door, Mair and I. We were both going to duty, onlyMair was going up, while I was bound for the orlop deck. With the noiseof hammering, and stamping, and shouting, I couldn't catch what Mairsaid, but it was something like--'Lucky dog, you'.
"Though stationed below--safe, except from the danger of smothering inhorrid smoke--I soon had evidence enough we were getting badly hammered.I wasn't sorry when "Cease firing" sounded, and I could crawl up andbreathe.
"But how about simple Mair? Why, this only--he had done his duty nobly,coolly, manfully; he had gained admiration from his fire-eating captain,and got specially mentioned in a despatch. Mair looked red and excitedall the afternoon, but the flute never sounded half so cheerily beforeas it did that same evening after dinner.
"Talking about simplicity brings poor Nat Wildman of ours before mymind's eye.
"There wasn't a pluckier sailor in the service than Nat, nor a greaterfavourite with his mess-mates, nor a simpler-souled or kindlier-hearted.He was very tall and powerful--quite an athlete in fact. Once when acompany or two of marines and blue-jackets were sent to enact punishmentof some native tribes on the West African coast, for the murder of awhite merchant, and for having fired on Her Majesty's boats, theyencountered a strongly-palisaded village. Our fellows had no laddersnor axes, and the dark-skins were firing through. The village must becarried, and reduced to terms--and ashes; so the men hoisted each otherover. Nat worked hard at this pitch-and-toss warfare; indeed, he couldhave thrown the whole ship's company over. But, lo! he found himselfthe last man--left out in the cold--for there was no one to help himacross. When the row was over, Nat was found--simple fellow that hewas--sitting on the ground crying with vexation, or, as one of hismess-mates phrased it, 'blubbering like a big baby'.
"I often think, boys, that it must be very hard to have to die at sea,especially if homeward bound; all the bustle and stir of ship's workgoing on around you; the songs of the men, the joking and laughing, andthe din--for silence can seldom be long maintained.
"Jack Wright of ours--captain of the main-top--might have been called atar of the real Tom Bowling type. He, too, like Nat Wildman, whom Imentioned above, was a very great favourite with his mess-mates. He wasalways kind and merry, but ever good, obedient, and brave. We werecoming home in the old _T----_. Dirty weather began shortly after weleft Madeira, and while assisting in taking in sail one forenoon, poorJack fell from aloft. His injuries were of so serious a nature that hislife was despaired of from the first. He lost much blood, and neverrallied.
"This sailor had a young wife, who was to have met him at Plymouth. Shewas in his thoughts in his last hours. I was assisting the doctor justat that time of my life, a kind of loblolly-boy, and I heard the mansay, as he looked wistfully in the surgeon's face: 'It seems a kind o'hard, doctor, but I've always done my duty--I've always obeyed orderswithout asking questions. I'm ready when the Great Captain calls,though--yes, it do seem a kind o' hard.'
"He appeared to doze off, and I sat still for an hour. It was well onin the middle watch, and the ship was under easy sail; there was now andthen a word of command, but no trampling overhead, for even the officersliked and respected Jack. I sat still for an hour, then took his wristin my hand. There was no pulse there. He was gone.
"I covered him up and went on deck, for something was rising and chokingme. It was a heavenly night--bright stars shining, and a round silverymoon, with the waves all sparkling to leeward of us.
"'It does seem hard,' I couldn't help muttering.
"As the beautiful burial service was being read over poor Jack Wright,and his body dropped into the sea, many a tear fell that those who shedthem needn't have taken much pains to hide.
"At Plymouth we were in quarantine for some time, and no one was allowedon board, but there were boats enough with friends and relations in themhanging around. In one of them was a beautiful young woman and anelderly dame, probably her mother. The whisper--it was nothingelse--soon passed round: 'Yonder is poor Jack's wife.'
"Long before she came on board she was in tears; her sailor lad was noteven at a port to wave a handkerchief. 'He must be ill,' she would havethought.
"'The doctor wishes to speak to you in his cabin,' a midshipman said,when she appeared on deck.
She came tottering in, supported by the old dame.
"'Jack's ill!' she cried.
"The doctor did not reply.
"'Jack is dead!' she moaned. 'My Jack!'
"We did not answer. How could we?
"Heigho! I've seen grief many times since, but I never witnessedanything to equal
that of poor Jack Wright's young wife.
"But I'm saddening you, boys. Here, steward, if there is a dram morepunch left, just send it round.
"And now, lads, I'll tell you one more true yarn, and I think I may justcall it:
"AN ADVENTURE IN SEARCH OF A QUID,
"For, from the very time Dawson and I shoved off in the dinghy boatuntil we set foot on Her Majesty's quarter-deck with the 'baccy, it wasall adventure together. Our ship was the saucy _Seamew_, only agun-boat, to be sure, but a most bewitching little thing all over; laylike a duck in the water, and, on a wind, nothing could touch her. Ourcruising-ground was the east coast of Africa, well north, where thefighting dhows floated in the water, and the savage Somalis on shorespeared each other when they hadn't any white men to practise on. Wenever provoked a fight, but when we did show our teeth, and that wasn'tseldom, we peppered away in good earnest I assure you. Now, in such aship in such a climate we might have been as happy as the day was long,but we had just one drawback to general jollity. Our skipper was thedevil. That's putting it plain and straight, but I've no other Englishfor it. He was one of your sea lawyers, and lawed it and lorded it overhis officers. No matter whether a thing was done rightly or wrongly,you got growled at all the same. There wasn't an officer he hadn't beenat loggerheads with, and walked to windward of, too; and there wasn't aman forward he had not punished during the cruise. We had a regularflogging Friday, a most unlucky day for many a poor fellow on board the_Seamew_. There was, therefore, no love lost between the ward-room andthe after-cabin, where the skipper lived in solitary grandeur; and themen would have given him to the sharks, if chance had thrown him intheir way, and if the sharks were hungry. I remember once, at Johanna, ahappy thought struck the skipper and a few of the petty officers at oneand the same time: they thought they would treat themselves to a fewfowls by way of change from the junk. The latter, therefore, askedpermission of the former to make the purchase. 'Certainly not,' was thecurt reply, 'unless you bring them dead on board.' Now, dead theywouldn't keep a day, so they were not bought; but the skipper's poultrywere brought on board the same evening, and two nicely-filled hen-coopsthey were. Well, about the middle of the morning-watch, when theskipper slumbered peacefully in his cot, two figures might have beenseen stealthily approaching those hen-coops. 'Softly does it,' saidone.
'Right you are, Bill,' replied the other. Then something dark andsquare rose slowly over the bulwarks, and dropped with a dull splashinto the sea; and this happened twice. And next morning when theskipper arose, happy in the prospect of 'spatch cock for breakfast,behold! there wasn't cock nor hen on board to spatch. But I should tireyou were I to tell a tithe of the dirty tricks the skipper of the_Seamew_ played his men and officers, so I will content myself withrelating the one that bears reference to my story. Once, then, we werein terrible straits for grog and tobacco; we hadn't a drop of the one ora quid of the other on board--at least not in our mess--and hadn't hadfor over a month. Now, nobody liked a glass of rum better than theskipper, though he didn't smoke; so, as long as his own spirits heldout, he didn't care anything for the dearth in the ward-room. But oneday he rejoiced us all by informing us he would run down to Zanzibar andtake in stores. Well, anyhow, he took us in nicely, for no sooner hadwe dropped anchor before the long white town, than he called away hisgig and landed on the sands. He was back again in two hours with theimportant intelligence, which we had received, that a three-mastedslave-ship was then cruising in the neighbourhood of the little islandof Chak-Chak. There wasn't a moment to be lost--it was, 'All hands ondeck, up anchor and off.' There wasn't a moment to be lost; but, markyou this, that beggarly skipper, who drank but did not smoke, came offwith his gig laden to the gunwale with dainties, spirits included, butnot a morsel of the 'baccy our souls were longing to sniff. We never sawthe three-masted slave-ship either.
"Well, as you doubtless know, there is a town on the east coast, prettynigh on the equator, called Lamoo, a half, or, rather, wholly savagekind of place, ruled over by an Arab sultan. It lies not close to thesea, but about ten miles up a broad-bosomed river. Like all Africanrivers, it is belted off from the sea by a sand-bar, on which the wateris shallow, and the green breakers tumble over it houses high. We hadbeen up this river only once before, but the little _Seamew_ got such aterrible bumping on the bar that our skipper had resolved never to trythe same experiment again. But, one beautiful, clear-skied, moonlightnight, we found ourselves just outside this bar once more, and, ratherto our astonishment, the order was given to heave the ship to untilmorning. Of course we were delighted, thinking that boats might be sentup stream for fruit, and we might get a chance of the coveted quid; butwe were doomed to disappointment, for the whole of next day was spent intaking soundings, and in the evening we were told that next morning weshould complete the survey, and then cruise away north once more. Sothe ship was hove-to on the second evening. Dawson and I were at thetime on the sick-list, not that there was anything the matter with us,but the skipper had been bullying us, and this was the method, with theassistance of the friendly surgeon, which we took to avenge ourselves.At this time the tobacco mania was at its worst. Ourassistant-paymaster had been heard to mutter that, if the devil temptedhim, he would be inclined to sell his soul for a bundle of whiffs, andDawson had openly asserted that he would give ten years of his life forthe sight of a snuff-box. But Dawson looked terribly like aconspirator, when he came stealthily into the ward-room on the eveningof the first day's surveying.
"'Hush! messmates, hush!' he whispered mysteriously, and we all crowdedround him. 'I have it,' he continued. 'My friend and I are on thelist. We cannot be missed.'
"'Yes, yes; go on,' we cried in a breath.
"'While _he_ dines, we will take a boat and steal up the river to Lamoo,and bring down 'bacca and grogs.'
"The skipper didn't know the meaning of that 'Hurrah!' that shook the_Seamew_ from stem to stern. No wilder shout ever rang out as we boardeda dhow 'mid smoke and blood.
"By seven o'clock the skipper was just mixing his third tumbler. Byseven o'clock everything was in readiness: the oars were muffled and therudder so shipped that it wouldn't unship by the under-kick of a breakeron the bar. Then, from well-greased blocks the boat was lowered, andsilently, but swiftly, glided shorewards to the dreaded bar. We tookwith us but two trusty men, and two trusty sacks. Soon the white crestsof the breakers were in view, and we could hear their vicious, sullenboom. Not easy work this crossing of bars, as you are aware. Presentlywe were heading for the only dark gate in this ocean of breakers, Isteering, Dawson with one helping hand on each of the oars. Now we haveentered the gate. "Steady now, men!" A wave catches us up behind andhurls our tiny boat first heavenward, then, with inconceivable speed,onwards, through a swirl of surf, and, a few moments afterwards we arein smooth water, wet but safe.
"'Well done,' said Dawson; 'but if we had capsized, the sharks wouldhave been dining on us at this present moment."
"'Beggin' yer pardons, gentlemen,' said one of the rowers, 'but I'drather be three days and three nights in the belly of a shark, likeJonah was, than one whole blessed month athout tobaccer.'
"'That were a whale, Jim,' said his mate. 'I don't care a dime,' saidthe first speaker; 'I knows I likes my pipe, and I likes a quid. Now,in a night like this, for instance, what a blessing it would be to lightup, and--and--why, it won't abear thinkin' on, hanged if it will.'
"'Now lay on your oars, men,' I said. 'I want to see what is inside alittle bottle of medical comforts the doctor stowed away under here.'
"It was a bottle of sick-mess sherry, which we all shared, andpronounced the best ever we had tasted, and the doctor 'a brick'.
"Onwards now we sped, as fast as oars could pull us, Dawson and Ioccasionally relieving the men and taking a spell at the oars. It wasmoonlight, I said, and until we were fairly in the river this was infavour of us; now, however, it was all against us. None hate theEnglish more than does your fighting Arab of
slave proclivities. At anymoment we might fall in with a slave dhow, and the crew thereof wouldcertainly not miss such a favourable opportunity of paying off oldscores. We had lots of arms on board, and so we meant, if attacked, topeg away at the beggars to the bitter end. However, discretion is thebetter part of valour, so we kept right in the centre of the stream,where we could be least seen. This was slow work, but safe.
"It must have been past ten o'clock, and we were well up the river,when, on rounding a point, we came suddenly in sight of a large-armeddhow, slowly going down stream. My first intention was to alter ourcourse. 'No, no,' said Dawson, who is no end of a clever fellow, 'thatwill only create suspicion. Let me hail her;' and he did so in goodArabic. If suspicion was excited on board the strange dhow, it was, Ifeel sure, lulled again when Dawson began, in stentorian tones, to singa well-known Arab boating chant. The song, I feel sure, saved us, andso we kept it up nearly all the way to Lamoo.
"About a mile from the town we crept inshore and hid our boat in thebush, leaving one man in her. Now there is but one or two Europeanmerchants in the town, and one of these we knew, but the way to hishouse we were ignorant of; but we knew where Comoro Jack lived in theoutskirts. He had been our guide before, so thither we went, andhappily found Jack at home: a tall young savage, arrayed only in a waistbelt, and an enormous (42nd Highlander's) busby on, and a tall spear inone hand.
"'Well, you blessed Englishmen, what you want wid Jack?' Such was ourgreeting. We hastily told him, and the amount, and--
"'Comoro Jack will go like a shot,' said the savage. The sandy streetswere well-nigh deserted, and Comoro Jack, as he strode on beside us,thought himself no end of a fine fellow.
"'London is one ver' good place,' he informed us, 'as big as Lamoo, andstreets better pave, and girls better dress. You see it was like this:the French they take Myotta; poor king ob de island he go to London tosee de British Queen of England, and I go too among de body-guard. Butwhen the poor king come to de palace, 'Will you fight for me de damFrench?' he say. 'Very sorry,' said the British Queen of England, 'butI cannot fight de dam French."
"'And who', we asked, 'gave you the bonnet and plumes?'
"'De British Queen ob England,' said Comoro Jack. 'She soon spot me outamong de niggers, and she put it on my head. 'Here, poor chile,' shesay, 'you not catch cold wid that."
"The house Comoro Jack led us to was that of a French merchant, and hishospitality was unbounded; but we refused all refreshment until we hadfirst smoked a pipe. Oh, didn't that pipe make men of us. We spent avery pleasant half-hour with the merchant; then we filled our sacks andreturned to our boat happier, surely, than Joseph's brethren could havebeen coming up, corn-laden, from the land of the Pharaohs. We had one ortwo little escapades going down stream, caught it wet and nasty on thebar, but got safely and quietly on board the _Seamew_ one hour beforesunrise, and to witness the joy on our mess-mates' faces when we crackeda bottle of rum and opened a box of Havanas, more than repaid us for allwe had come through.
"Next morning, to his intense disgust, the skipper found us all smoking,and looking funny and jolly. But he never knew where we found the'baccy."