III.
THROUGH MISTS OF THE SEA.
Captain McKenzie sprang from his berth in the wildest excitement. Amoment before a low voice called "Captain," at his state room door."Who is there?" he asked. "Donovan," came the guarded reply. "Captain,the mate has conspired with the crew to mutiny and your throat will becut in an hour."
James Mitchell and I were apprentices on board the bark "Aven ofAberdeen." My brother James having reluctantly consented that I shouldfollow the fortunes of the sea, signed the indenture papers.
The brig was bound for Archangel, Russia, and we had on board a largeamount of specie and plate, the private fortunes of a Russian Jewreturning to his native land after many years of success as a merchantin Alexandria. Our berth was near the captain's, and Mitchell hadheard the warning given by Donovan. He was out of his berth in aninstant and gave me to understand there was mutiny aboard. Together weentered the captain's cabin.
The Jew was apprised of the situation. It was the intention of themate and crew to murder him and the Captain and put the vessel aboutfor a piratical cruise in the Indian Ocean. They were a motley gang offoreigners, low bred and capable of any crime when led by a man likethe mate, fresh from a career of lawlessness on the China coast.
The Jew was the most abject picture of terror I ever saw. His handstrembled and he shook like a man in a chill. He wanted to hide, butthat was useless. Captain McKenzie armed himself with a belaying pin.He placed one in the hands of each of us boys and bade us follow himin silence. We cautiously went on deck and we found the helm deserted,and the mate and the entire crew sitting together and drinking in thefore part of the ship.
Captain McKenzie sprang into their midst and with one blow from thepin killed the mate. This subdued the others and they slunk away totheir duties. The captain then called the men in front of him andafter ordering Donovan to the helm, told them he was done with themand that their future conduct would determine their fate. At the sametime he threatened to kill the first man that manifested a mutinousdisposition, or dared to cross a given line on the deck without hispermission. He then ordered the mate's body overboard and told the mento return to their duties.
The Captain and Donovan took turns at the helm, while Mitchell or Iwas stationed as a lookout to give instant warning of any suspiciousmovements on the part of the crew. For more than a week we stood toour posts of duty, when one morning we sailed into the smooth watersof the port of Archangel, weary and exhausted from the intense nervousstrain and loss of sleep.
The Captain notified the British consul and a file of soldiers cameon board and arrested the crew. Six of them were afterwards sent toprison for life.
The home voyage of the Aven was fraught with all the dangers of thesea. We had secured another crew in Archangel but their seamanship wasbad. When a sudden storm would strike us it required herculean effortson the part of the captain and Donovan to prevent the ship from beingdriven ashore on the rocks.
Snow was falling and a wintry wind dashed the waves over our decks andcoated the bulwarks with a mail of ice. Sleet and snow clung to therigging, making every effort to handle the ship a hazardous one. Forthree days we battled against the elements and then we came in contactwith ice floes. Once our position was so perilous that the Captainordered the boats provisioned and ready to be lowered when the vesselshould be crushed in the ice. By skillful maneuvering we escaped fromthe ice floes and had a pleasant day or two in smoother seas.
It was night and I was standing by the taffrail, when suddenly a giantspecter seemed to come up from out of the sea, bearing directly downupon us. Her great lantern swung in a glow in a fog, by which Idiscerned moving objects.
"Collision! Collision!" I shouted at the top of my voice. The cry wastaken up by the sailors, and ere it had died away there was thecrashing of timbers, falling spars and the shouts of men.
We had been struck a glancing blow abaft midships but the damage wasnot serious enough to sink us. The other vessel, which proved to bethe brig "Rapid," belonging to the same company at Aberdeen, stood offuntil its crew ascertained the extent of our damage, then sailed awayin the darkness.
A month's delay on the docks at Aberdeen repairing damages, and wewere again on the high seas bound for the ports of South America.
When off the West Indies the sky suddenly became overcast, and we weresoon overtaken by a hurricane. The captain saw it coming and preparedfor it, yet when it took the ship it roared and laid her down so thatI thought she would never get up again. All that day and night we hadheavy squalls, and by morning the gale was still increasing. Birds ofsea and land came on board. Driven by the winds, they dashedthemselves down upon the deck without offering to stir until pickedup, and when let go they would not leave the ship, but endeavored tohide from the wind. By ten o'clock at night the storm had spent itsfury, and when I went to my bunk I found it full of water. With thestraining of the ship, the seams had begun to leak. I was surprised tonote among the ship's crew that the most swaggering, swearing bulliesin fine weather were now the most meek and mild-mannered of men whendeath was staring them in the face.
WRECK OF THE SPANISH SLOOP SEVILLE. (Page 30)]
Then followed days when the sea was smooth as glass. Our white sailshung idly beneath the scorching skies. Sea weed floated on the oilysurface, as, day by day, we lay seemingly motionless on the bosom ofthe deep. The moon rose out of a phosphorescent sea and cast its longgolden gleams on the azure blue, while the stars shone like isles oflight in the sky. There was a dread in the infinite spaces about.Again, there was scurrying, fleecy clouds and our ship was scuddingbefore the breeze.
When I awoke one morning, we were lying at anchor in the harbor ofBuenos Ayres. While unloading cargo, the Captain desiring to goashore, I was taken in the boat along with two of the seamen. Aftergetting to the wharf, the Captain said: "I expect you fellows toemploy your time cleaning that boat; it will be five o'clock before Ireturn." After he had gone, one of the sailors said to his mate, "Wewill leave Spriggings (meaning me) to clean the boat, and we will goto shore." After they were gone, I concluded that I had been imposedupon and I left the boat and went into the city, having no intentionof deserting the vessel at that time. In my wanderings in the strangecity, and not knowing a word of Spanish, I lost my way. Finally, whenI returned to the wharf, the boat was gone. It was late when I waspicked up by a policeman and turned over to an Englishman, who kindlytook me to his home for the night. The next morning I returned to theAven and received a reprimand.
A few days later we weighed anchor for Valparaiso. The sky wasovercast and the sea was rolling high off the Patagonian coast, whenwe heard signal guns of distress. Captain McKenzie changed the courseof the ship and we soon came in view of the Spanish sloop Sevillegoing to pieces on the rocks. Her bow was lifted high, while the waveswere breaking over her stern. Her sails were in shreds, and a dozensailors clung to the rigging. We lowered the life-boat, and afterhours of battle with wind and wave, rescued the crew. They were in anexhausted and famished condition, having been for almost three dayswithout food or water. They were given every kindly attention by ourofficers and crew.
We saw the dark, jagged, rugged bluffs and steeps of Staten and Terradel Fuego. We rounded Cape St. John, amid tempestuous gales and giantseas of the polar regions. We lost sight of the land, reefed the sailsclose down and then bid defiance to the storm. Strange sea birdsshrieked their dismal cries, while dull leaden skies added to thegloom. We cleared Cape Horn in safety and were soon sailing over thesmooth seas of the south Pacific Ocean beneath the Southern Cross.
"Sail ho!" cried the lookout. All eyes were turned to the leeward. Astately ship, under full sail, had suddenly appeared, bearing downupon us. She came silently, the water splitting in foam at her bows.We could see the crew working about her decks, but no sound came fromthe spectre. All at once we noticed her hull and sails weretransparent. We could see through them to the ocean beyond.
It was only a mirage of the sea, but to our crew it was the spectreof the
Flying Dutchman--a phantom ship had crossed our bow.
Once in port, no more would we walk the deck of the Aven of Aberdeen.She had seen a ghost.