Chapter 13

For the first day or two we made good headway into the squally belt. The heavy, black, and dangerous-looking clouds would come along about every half-hour, just fast enough to keep the men busy clewing down and hoisting the lighter canvas nearly all day long, for some would have a puff of wind ahead of them and some a puff behind, making it all guesswork as to how hard it would strike.

After the second day we had the doldrums fair enough, and there we lay with our courses clewed up and our t'gallantsails wearing out with the continuous slatting, as the ship rolled lazily on the long, easy equatorial sea. She was heading all around the compass, for there was not enough air to give her steering way; so, after dinner, all hands were allowed to turn out their outfits on the main deck for a grand wash. When we were under one of those squall-clouds, the water would fall so heavily that it would be ankle deep in the waist in spite of the half-dozen five-inch scuppers spouting full streams out at both sides. The waterfall was enough to take away the breath, standing in it, but all hands turned out stripped to the waist. The scuppers were plugged, and soon the waist of the ship, about forty feet wide and sixty long, looked like a miniature lake with the after-hatch rising like a snow-white island from the centre, and upon which a miniature surf broke as the water swashed and swirled with each roll of the ship. Here were hundreds of gallons of excellent water to wash in, and blankets, jumpers, flannels, etc., were soon floating at will, while the men seized whatever of their belongings they could lay hands on, and rubbed piece after piece with soap. The large pieces, such as blankets, were hauled into the shallows forward, where the ship's sheer made a gently sloping beach. Then they were smeared with soap and laid just awash, while the men would slide along them in their bare feet as though on ice, squeezing out great quantities of dirty suds. Afterwards they would be cast adrift in the deep water to rinse.

I came to the break of the poop and looked down upon the busy scene a few feet beneath on the main deck. The water here was fully two feet deep in the scuppers when the ship rolled to either side, and the men were almost washed off their feet with its rush. Some of them had climbed upon the island,--the main hatch,--where they sat and wrung the pieces of their apparel dry. Among these washers was my old third mate, now transformed into a somewhat shiftless sailor.

The old fellow's wardrobe was limited. It consisted of his natural covering in the way of skin and hair, one shirt, and a pair of badly worn dungaree trousers. The shirt he had worn during the entire cruise, and perhaps some time before, and as it fitted him tightly, and as his natural covering of hair on his chest was thick, it had gradually worked its way through the cloth, curling sharply on the outside, making the garment and himself as nearly one as possible. This had caused him no little inconvenience in washing, and it was with great difficulty he had removed the garment. He had spent half an hour rubbing it with a piece of salt-water soap, rinsed it thoroughly, and had it spread out on the hatch-combings. His work being finished, he sat near it, with his knees drawn up to his breast, his hands locked around his shins, and his face wearing an expression of deep and very sad thought.

Trunnell came out on the deck and had his things cast into the water with the rest. Then he peeled off his shirt and stood forth naked to the waist, a broad belt strapped tightly about him holding his trousers. His muscles now showed out for the first time, and I stood gazing at the enormous bunches on his back and shoulders. He was like some monstrous giant cut off at the waist and stuck upon a pair of absurdly short legs, which, however, were simply knots of muscle.

When he had finished his shirt, he turned over the rest of his belongings to Johnson to wash for him. Then his gaze fell upon the unhappy-looking old fellow on the hatch, who was holding his single shirt now in his hands, waiting for it to dry sufficiently for him to wear it again. As the rain fell in torrents every few minutes, this appeared an endless task, and the old man grew more sorrowful.

"There ain't nothin' in this world fer me," said he, sadly, cc not even a bloomin' shirt. Here I am shipwrecked and lost on a well-found ship, an' sink me, I ain't even able to change me clothes, one piece at a time."

"Ye'll soon be ashore agin, old feller," said Trunnell, "an' then ye'll have licker an' clothes in plenty."

"What's licker to me?" said the old man.

"Why, meat an' drink, when ye has to quit it off sudden like," said Trunnell.

"It's clothes I wants, not no rum. Can't ye see I'm nakid as Adam, except fer this old rag? I wouldn't mind if I ware signed on regular like the rest, 'cause I could take it out the slop chest in work. But here I is without no regular work, no chanst to draw on the old man, an' next month, most like, we'll be running up the latitoods inter frost. I'm in a hard fix, shipmate, an' you kin see it."

Trunnell seemed to be thinking for several minutes. Then he spoke.

"There's lots o' bugs an' things forrads, ain't there?" said he.

"If by lots ye means millions, I reckon ye're talkin'," said the man.

"Well," said Trunnell, "I'll tell ye what I'll do. You get a sail needle an' a line to it about half a fathom long, see?"

"I sees."

"Well, then ye go about between decks, an' in the alleyways, an' behind the bunks, an' around the galley, an' earn yer own outfit with that needle, see? When ye have a string o' bugs a-fillin' the string like clear up to the needle's eye, ye bring them aft to me, an' I gives ye credit fer them in clothes or grog, each string bein' worth a drink, an' a hundred worth a shirt or pants. Do ye get on to the game?"

"I get on to it well enough," said the fellow, "but what I wants to know is, whether ye'll take me whurd o' honner that I'll catch a string o' bugs afore night, an' give me the rum now to stave off the chill."

"I will," said Trunnell.

The old man rose from the hatchway, and struggled hard to get into his shirt. The garment had shrunk so, however, that the sleeves reached but to his elbows and the tails to his waist band. He seized the open front in his hand and looked solemnly at the mate with his sad eyes.

"Lead me to it! Lead me to it! For the Lord's sake, lead me to it!" he said quietly.

And Trunnell went into the forward cabin with the apparition following eagerly in his wake.

What a strange little giant he was, this mate! "Discipline is discipline," he would say, and no man got anything for nothing aboard his ship.

XXI

We crossed the line in 24 west longitude, running close to the St. Paul's Rocks. These strange peaks to the southward of the equator caused some interest aboard, rising as they do out of the middle of the ocean a mile or more in depth.

The air was hot and muggy the day we crossed into the northern hemisphere, and the light breeze died away again, leaving the ship with her courses clewed up, rolling and wallowing uneasily in the swell.

Jackwell, as I must always call him now, spruced himself up better than usual, and paid more attention to the ladies. He avoided me at every opportunity; but as neither Chips nor myself ever alluded to the story we had heard from Jim, his courage rose, and he became more familiar with the men.

Up to this time, we had not sighted a single sail since the _Sovereign_; but here on the line, where the fleets of the maritime world congregate to pick up the north or southeast trades, we sighted many ships bound both out and in.

One of these that happened near us was the _Shark_, whaling brig of three hundred tons, commanded by Captain Henry,--a man who had sailed in American ships engaged in the deep-water trade for years before he had taken to whaling. This vessel signalled us; and when we had answered and found out who our neighbor was, we were invited aboard.

Jackwell was willing to go with the ladies, as he thought it might prove a diversion. There was no chance for a breeze, and the ships were within half a mile of each other, with a smooth sea between. He insisted, however, that I go along to command the boat.

Chips and I had from the first decided to try and get a peep at the captain's trunk, and this might prove our chance. Gunning's tale of its great weight gave rise to many high thoughts; and if it were gold, much might be hoped for if we landed our man when we made port.

A few words with the carpenter was enough, and then I got the men at work hoisting out the boat. I found time to try and persuade Trunnell to take my place in the small craft, but he was firm. It would never do, he said, to leave the ship without a high officer aboard. "There's no telling, Rolling, just what might happen in this world while a feller is on the deep sea. No, sir; go ahead and enjoy yourself. There's a-goin' to be some line jokes, I reckon, aboard that brig. If the skipper ain't been acrost before, he'll be liable to catch the fun as well as the rest, but he don't know nothin' about sech things."

I was a little suspicious at Trunnell's determination to stay aboard, especially when I found out he knew the captain of the whaler very well. However, I had the small boat hoisted out and made ready for the passengers. This time there was a compass and water breaker aboard, and a foghorn in the stern sheets in case of need.

Mrs. Sackett was helped into the small craft, and her daughter followed, both women looking brighter than at any time during the cruise. Mrs. Sackett was not a bad-looking woman at any time, being of about the medium height, with a smooth complexion, and her figure finely proportioned. Her daughter seated herself beside her in the stern, and Jackwell climbed over the rail.

He was dressed in a very fine suit of clothes, his shirt-front white, and his waxed mustache curled fiercely. His glinting eyes had a somewhat humorous expression, I thought, and he appeared very well pleased with himself.

Trunnell came to the rail and leaned over. "Good luck to ye," he cried. "We'll expect ye back to dinner."

"Keep an eye on my room, and don't let the steward disturb the charts on my trunk until I come back. The last sight is worked out on the one lying on the table," replied Jackwell.

Then the oars fell across, and we shot out over the smooth ocean to the brig that rolled lazily half a mile distant.

The skipper appeared in a most humorous mood, which increased as did the distance between the ships.

He talked to Mrs. Sackett incessantly and actually had that lady laughing happily at his remarks. Miss Sackett did not rise to his humor, however, and her mother noticed it.

"Jennie, dear, why don't you laugh? Captain Thompson is so funny," she said.

"I will when he gets off a good joke, mother."

"Get off a good joke?" echoed the skipper. "Well, that's what I call hard. A good joke? Why, my dear child, I've gotten off the joke of my life to-day. Sink me, if I ain't played the best joke of the year, and on Trunnell too, at that. A good joke? ha, ha, hah!" and he threw his head back and laughed so loud and long that his mirth was infectious, and I even found myself smiling at him.

"Tell us what it is," said Miss Jennie.

"Oh, ho, ho, tell you what it is," laughed Jackwell, and his nose worked up and down so rapidly that I marvelled at it. His glinting eyes were almost closed and his face was red with exertion. "And suppose I'd tell you what it is, Miss Sackett? You wouldn't laugh. Not you. You couldn't rise to the occasion like your mamma. No, sink me, if I told you what it was, you wouldn't laugh; so you'll all have to wait till you get back aboard to hear it. But it's a good one, no fear."

We were now almost alongside of the brig, and could see her captain at the gangway, waiting to receive us. All along the rail strange faces peeped over at us.

"Way enough," cried Jackwell, and the oars were shipped. The boat swept alongside, and a ladder was lowered for us. I climbed out first to be able to assist the ladies, and as I gained the deck I was greeted by a strongly built, bearded man who looked at me keenly out of clear blue eyes.

"I'm glad to see you, sir," said he, holding out his hand.

I shook hands and turned to help Mrs. Sackett over the rail. Then came Miss Jennie, and last of all our captain.

Jackwell sprang up the ladder quickly, and stood in the gangway.

"How are you, sir, Captain Thomp--"

Captain Henry checked himself, looking at our skipper as though he had seen a ghost.

"Why, Jack--"

But Jackwell had put up his hand, smiling pleasantly.

"Jack it is, old man. You haven't forgotten the time I picked you up on the beach, have you?" he said, laughing. "Mrs. Sackett," he cried, turning, "allow me to introduce my friend, Captain Henry. Miss Sackett, also. Here's a skipper who hasn't forgotten the day I pulled him out of the water on the coast of South Wales, where he was wrecked. Sink me, but it's a blessing to see gratitude," he cried again, laughing heartily. "Fancy one skipper pulling another out of the sea, hey? Can you do that?"

"Well, I want to know," replied Henry. "I never knew you was a--"

"You never knew what, old man? What is it ye never knew? Sink me, it would fill every barrel you have below, hey? wouldn't it? What you never knew, nor never will know, would fill your little ship so full she'd sink, Henry, or I'm a soger. Ha, ha, hah! my boy; I don't mean to cast no insinuations at you, but that's a fact, ain't it? But what the dickens have you got going on aboard?"

He turned and gazed at the brig's main deck, where tubs of water and soapsuds were being poured into the trying-out kettles built in the brig's waist.

"Why," said Henry, "since you are a sea-capting, you must know the lay of it. Hain't you never crossed the line in a sailin' ship before?"

He had apparently recovered himself, and the surprise at meeting an old acquaintance appeared to give him pleasure.

Taking Mrs. Sackett by the hand, he led her aft up the poop steps, Jackwell following, keeping up a continual talk about whales and whaling skippers. Jennie and I followed behind and examined the brig's strange outfit.

The first mate, a man of middle age, lean and gaunt, came forward and introduced himself. He had sailed in every kind of ship, and was now whaling, he declared, for the last time. As I had made several "last voyages" myself, I knew that he meant simply to show involuntarily that he was a confirmed sailor of the most pronounced sort.

He showed us the lines and irons, the cutting-in outfit, and the kettles and furnace for boiling down the blubber. We followed him about, and I expressed my thanks when we arrived at the poop again, where he left us. Jennie was not interested, and the fact was not lost upon the old fellow, who turned away to join his mates at the kettles.

"Do you know, Mr. Rolling, I don't care a rap for ships," said she. "They don't interest me any more, and I don't think they are the place for women, anyhow."

"It would be mighty lonesome for some men if they acted on that idea and kept out of them," I answered.

We were all alone by the mizzen, the captains having gone below with Mrs. Sackett to show her the interior of the ship.

The young girl looked up, and I fancied there was just a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?" she said. "Can't men find more useful occupations than following the sea,--that is, those who are lonely?"

"Some men are fitted to do certain things in this world and unfitted for others. It would be hard on those whose lines are laid out like that for them. You don't think a man follows the sea after his first voyage because he likes it, do you?" I said.

"Then for Heaven's sake why don't they stay ashore?" she demanded.

"Would you care for a man who would stay out of a thing that he was fitted for, simply because it was hard?" I asked her.

She blushed and turned away.

"I was not speaking of caring for any one, Mr. Rolling," she replied. And then she added quickly, "I think we will go below and see what they have for us."

"No, wait just one minute, Jennie," I said, taking her hand and stopping her gently without attracting the attention of the men forward. "This is the first time we've had a chance to talk of ourselves in two months. I want to ask you if you really meant that?"

"Meant what?" she said, stopping and turning around, facing me squarely.

"That you didn't care for any one?" I stammered, and I remember how my face burned.

She let me hold her hand and looked up into my eyes.

"I never said any such thing--that I didn't care for any one," she replied.

"Then do you, Jennie?"

She made no answer, and let her eyes fall. I let go her hand and drew myself up, for I was uncertain.

"I say, Rolling, what the deuce are you two doing?" bawled the voice of Jackwell from the companion, and then I realized that there was little privacy aboard a ship of three hundred tons.

We went aft guiltily, and met the rest coming up the companion with bottled beer and sandwiches which were served as refreshments. Chairs were set out by the old mate and two harpooners who had come aft, and the cook spruced himself up to get us out a plum-duff for lunch. From where we sat behind the poop rise, nothing could be seen forward, and here we ate and drank while Jackwell laughed and talked incessantly, being a completely changed man from the sarcastic and somewhat truculent skipper I had known for the last three months. It was finally suggested that as the awning was stretched, the plum-duff could be served on deck better than below in the stuffy cabin, so here we enjoyed the meal.

XXII

While we ate, Jackwell expanded more and more under the influence of duff and beer. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the mainmast.

"What makes the top of your mast so black, hey? Is it the smoke from the kettles, or have you been afire? Sink me, Henry, there couldn't have been any such luck as your old hooker afire and being put out, hey? Ha, ha, hah! that would have been asking too much of the devil."

"It's hollow," said the old mate.

"What? Hollow? What the deuce is your mast hollow for?"

"Well, that is a question, isn't it, Mrs. Sackett?" said Henry. "Perhaps he asks you sometimes what a smoke-pipe is hollow for, don't he? I never seen such a funny man. But he'll never get over it, I want to know."

"Is it really hollow?" asked Jennie of the old mate.

"Yessum, it certainly is. Why, it's the smoke-pipe, you know," was the reply. "We have an engine in the lazarette that'll take us along more'n three knots in dead calm weather. It's been a lot o' help, when the wind has been light and ahead, fer picking up the boats. Ye know a whale always makes dead to windward, mostly, an' if the wind is light and we've got to go a long ways, the poor devils would most starve waitin' fer us, like they used to do in the old times. The lower mast is iron. There's lots of them that way now. The soot makes the canvas black sometimes, but there ain't no sparks to speak of ever comes out of that top, as it's mostly blubber we burns."

Jackwell became silent for several minutes, and then, as his eyes were still directed at the masthead, I looked again and noticed the topsail yard settled below the lower masthead.

"How do you suppose he keeps it up like that?" I asked Jackwell, trying to be civil.

"Keeps what up like what?" he said, in his old tone.

"The yard," I answered shortly.

"Oh, mostly by force of habit, I reckon," said he, nodding sarcastically at me and wrinkling his nose. "That's it, ain't it, Henry? Your yards stay mastheaded mostly by force o' habit, hey? They don't need no ropes."

I saw I was not forgotten, so afterward I kept quiet when he spoke. In a moment or two after this there was a wild yell from forward. This terminated into a deep bass roar, and we all jumped up to see what was the matter.

The form of a man sat on the starboard cat-head, and in his mouth was a horn of enormous size, the mouth being fully three feet across.

"Sooaye, Sooa-a-aye!" he roared. "Make way fer the great king o' the sea!"

I saw the fellow had on a long, rope-yarn beard and a wig to match, while a pair of black wings hung from his shoulders.

While he called, creatures swarmed over the bows. Men with beards and men without, some holding long spears and streamers, and some with three-pronged tridents, all having huge heads with grotesque faces, and forked tails which hung down behind.

"Hooray fer the king o' the sea!" bawled the fellow through the horn; and then the motley crowd yelled in chorus, some blowing huge conch-shells, and all making a most hideous racket.

Jennie stopped her ears and gazed, laughing at the throng. She had been across the line before in some of the older ships with her father, and knew of the practice. Mrs. Sackett and Captain Henry cheered and waved their handkerchiefs, but Jackwell sat silently looking on. Finally all of us went to the break of the poop, where we could get a better view, and just as we arrived, a monstrous form came over the knight-heads and stood forth on deck.

The fellow had a beard fully a fathom long, and he stood nearly two fathoms high, his feet being hoof-shaped. Gigantic black canvas wings hung from his shoulders, and a huge wig of rope-yarn, with the hair falling to his waist, sat on his head. He was escorted unsteadily to a seat upon the trying-out furnace.

"All who have to worship the king, come forth, an' stan' out!" yelled the man with the horn. This was greeted with cheers and blasts on the conch-shells.

Some of our men had never been over before, and one of the boat's crew confessed. He was quickly seized and brought before King Neptune.

"Sit ye down, right there in that there cheer," said the king, scowling fiercely.

The fellow sat down and stared, smiling at the monster.

"Have ye paid fer comin' acrost this here latitood, me son?" asked the king.

"No," said the sailor.

"No, what?" roared the king.

The chair was placed on the edge of the main kettle and the monster simply raised his hand to one of his retainers. This fellow tilted it up, sailor and all, into the smother of suds and water. Instantly there were roars of laughter, as all hands watched the man trying to get clear of the slippery iron tank. Every time he would get a hold, his fingers would be rapped sharply, and down he would go, floundering about. He was finally let off with a fine of a plug of tobacco, all his belongings save the clothes he had with him.

Other men followed, for the whaler had a crew of thirty-five. Some were shaved with a barrel hoop for a razor, and tar for lather, being finally released for some tobacco.

"Come aft, O king," bawled Henry, after the fun had grown fast and furious. "Come aft, and get a donation from the ladies."

The great fellow was escorted unsteadily to the poop, where he saluted the women.

"Have ye never paid toll to go to the other world, yet?" asked the king.

"No," said Jackwell, who was getting tired of the fun, "I ain't never been acrost, and I ain't a-going to pay toll."

"Shall he pay?" asked the king of Henry.

"Sure," was Henry's response.

Instantly the giant sprang upon the deck, getting clear of his stilts by some means or other. He seized Jackwell tightly around the body, and rushing to the rail, sprang into the sea, his followers yelling themselves hoarse with delight.

When they were hauled aboard, Jackwell was in a fury. I expected him to shoot the sailor who had the audacity to pitch him overboard, but he controlled himself. The incident, however, ended the fun aboard the brig, Henry, between fits of laughing, telling the mate to serve all hands with all the grog they wanted.