Courage, True Hearts: Sailing in Search of Fortune

A special house had been built for this great uninflated balloon between the fore and main masts, and on each side, bottom upwards, lay the whalers, or boats with bows at each end, and steered by an oar only. These were to be used in the fishery.

The ship's ballast was water-filled tanks, and tanks laden with coals. But Talbot hoped to return to Scottish or English shores with ballast of quite a different sort, and better paying-oil, to wit.

The Flora M'Vayne was to touch nowhere on her voyage out until she reached the Cape. That at least was the good skipper's intention, but circumstances alter cases, as will presently be seen.

They had fine weather all the way till far past the dreaded Bay of Biscay. On this occasion two boys in a dinghy might have crossed it. But it is not to be supposed that they could go on for a very long time without encountering what Jack calls dirty weather. And so when, in about the latitude of Lisbon, and to the east of the Azores, it came on to blow, no one was a bit surprised.

"We'll have a gale, mate," said the captain; "but though abeam, or rather on the bow, we have plenty of sea-room; and on the whole I sha'n't be sorry, for I really want to see how the Flora behaves."

The wind, even as he spoke, began to roar more wildly through the rigging, but in gusts or squalls, that at times rose for a few minutes to almost hurricane pitch.

Before the storm had come on many beautiful gulls had been screaming around the barque and diving for morsels of food that Frank was throwing to them, but now they disappeared. Back they flew to the rocks that frown over the waters of their sea-girt homes. Little dark chips of stormy petrels, however, continued to dash from wave-top to wave-top, and for once in a way, they brought tempest.

But the ship was now eased, for the lurid sun was setting, and a dark and moonless night must follow. The men were hardly down from aloft when the storm seemed to increase, but it blew more steadily, so she was kept away a point or two, and now went dancing over the heavy seas as if she imagined she was the best clipper ever built.

A little heavy-headed she proved, however, so that she shipped a good deal of water over the bows, otherwise the thumping, thudding, buffeting waves seemed to make not the slightest impression on her.

The chief cabin or dining-saloon was down below, there being no poop, but a flush-deck all along. Both Frank and Duncan were off duty, and, seated in this small but comfortable saloon, the former could not help remarking on the strange feeling and sound of each heavy wave that struck the ship abeam. She appeared to be hit by a huge, soft boxing-glove, about a thousand times as large as any we ever use.

Immediately after there was the whishing sound of water on the deck, but although the vessel was heeled over somewhat by every awful blow, she took no other notice.

"Batter away, old Neptune," the barque seemed to say; "it amuses you, and it doesn't hurt me in the slightest."

About two bells in the first watch, Talbot came below, and supper was ordered.

His face was radiant, but shining with wet. The steward, however, assisted him out of his oil-skins and sou'wester, then, having wiped his face with his pocket-handkerchief, he sat down.

"Well," said Duncan, "Frank and I are waiting to hear the verdict."

"Why, it is this," said the skipper. "The barque is a duck, and well deserves the name of Flora M'Vayne. I don't believe a hurricane could hurt her, and she'll chuck the small icebergs on one side of her as I should chuck a cricket-ball. And ain't I hungry just. Sit in, boys. It's all night in with you lads, isn't it?"

"Not quite," said Duncan. "I kept the last dog-watch, and don't go on again till four."

Viking got up and seated himself by his well-beloved master's side.

He licked Duncan's hand, as much as to say, "When you go on deck so shall I."

But his master seemed to divine his thoughts.

"No, my good dog," he said, "you must stay below to-night, else the seas would sweep you off, and what should I do then?"

After supper Frank got out his fiddle and played for fully half an hour, then he and Duncan, who both occupied the same state-room, retired.

As a sailor always sleeps most soundly when the wind blows high, and he is really "rock'd in the cradle of the deep", it is almost unnecessary to say that these lads dropped soundly off almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows.

Nor did they awake until eight bells at the end of the darksome middle watch, when Conal came down to call them.

"Oil-skins, Conal?"

"Ay, Duncan, and you'll need them too. Better lock Vike in your cabin."

"That is what I mean to do."

Poor Viking did not half like it though. There is no dog in the world makes a better sailor's companion when far away at sea than a Newfoundland, and I speak from experience. But such dogs do not appreciate danger sufficiently high, nor have they good enough sea-legs to face a storm and walk the deck of a heaving ship. Therefore they often get washed into the lee scuppers.

On the present occasion Vike made up his mind to be as naughty a dog as he could.

"I shall wake the skipper," he told Duncan, speaking through the key-hole as it were. "Wowff!" he barked. "Wowff! wowff! What do you think of that?"

Well, the sound could certainly be heard high over the roaring of the wind and the dash of angry waves.

The captain heard it in his dreams; but it takes more than the barking of a dog to awake a sailor born. So Talbot just hitched himself round, and went off to sleep on the other tack.

By breakfast time both wind and sea had gone down, and there was every expectation of fine weather once again.

"No damage done is there, mate?" said Talbot to Morgan.

"No, sir, nothing worth speaking about. Some of the coal tanks got a drop o' water in them, that's all."

"Well, that will make them last the longer. But, mind you, Morgan, I'm rather pleased than otherwise that we've had that blow."

"So am I."

"It just shows what the barque can do."

"That's it. If she is as good against the ice as she is against a sea-way, then, by my song, sir, she'll take us safely to the Antarctic, and just as safely back home again. Pass the sugar, sir."

CHAPTER IV. – ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND

"Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching." So runs a line of the old Yankee war-song.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys (Duncan and Frank) were treading the deck that forenoon, talking, as sailors do, about anything or everything that suggested itself. And two subjects that always came to the front on such occasions were home life and their life on the ocean wave.

"So you thoroughly like the sea?" said Duncan.

"Well, Duncan, I never thoroughly liked anything, you know, but I think I love a sea-life better than most sorts of existence, with the exception, of course, of wandering over the hills of old Glenvoie; bird-nesting in the forests, or fishing in its beautiful streams. Only the sea has its drawbacks."

"Yes."

"Yes, for I do think it a nuisance to have to get up at all hours of the night to keep watch-blowing or calm. I always feel I should be willing to give five years of my life for another two hours' sleep, when the fellow shakes me by the shoulder and says, 'Eight bells, sir, if you please'. Just as if it would not be eight bells whether I pleased or not. Then, neither the tommy nor tack is quite up to shore standard, and one could do well enough without cockroaches about a foot and a half long-more or less-between his sheets, weevils in his biscuits, and spiders roasted and ground up with his coffee. The tea is always sea-sick too, and hens' milk4 isn't the best, especially if the eggs be old and decrepit. But I won't grumble, Duncan."

"No, I wouldn't, if I were you. Sailors never do."

"And now you're laughing at me."

"That's nothing, Frank; one may live a long time after being laughed at."

"Well, come along below, and I'll play you something that will make the tear-drops trickle down that old-fashioned Scotch nose of yours."

"Wouldn't you rather hear the wild and martial strains of the bagpipes, my little Cockney cousin?"

"Oh, yes," answered Frank punnily, but standing well beyond the reach of Duncan's swinger of an arm. "I dearly love the bagpipes when-"

He hesitated.

"When what?" cried Duncan.

"When they're o'er the hills and far awa'."

Then Frank made a bolt for the companion-ladder.

It was high time, too.

Well, when Frank Trelawney had that fiddle of his under his bit of a Cockney chin, all his troubles, if, indeed, he had any that could be called real, were forgotten, including weevils, hard tack, cockroaches, and all. For the time being, indeed, there was no one else in the world save he himself and the violin. And what worlds of romance and love and beauty were thus conjured up before him!

But even at the risk of differing from Frank, I think a sailor's pleasures, if he is one who calls at many and different ports, far outbalance any grievances he may have to growl about-short of shipwreck. What though the biscuit be hard, and one's bed like the biscuit! The wholesome healthy appetite one possesses, both for biscuit and sleep, makes up for all that; and one ought to be happy if he isn't.

But one chief enjoyment in a sailor's existence lies in visiting so many different lands, and seeing life in every form and shape. He cannot help being an anthropologist, and studying mankind. Not, mind you, that he lays himself out for that sort of thing; for sailors, especially young fellows, take the world as it comes, the rough with the smooth, or rather alternately, only always forgetting the rough while they revel in the smooth. But there must always be an element of comedy in Jack's delights, and when he goes on shore, take my word for it, "Jack's alive, and full of fun".

I am happy to say that drinking is much in the decrease both in the royal navy and merchant service. Why, even since I myself can remember-and I'm not a very aged individual-our blue-jackets were like babies, and if not in charge of an officer when on shore, would forget themselves, and come on board limp enough, with black eyes and broken heads, and garments drenched in gore.

Jack in those days really paid for his pint in more ways than one, for if he escaped the dangers of the shore, riot and wretchedness, the thieves and the female harpies who lay in wait to cheat and rob him, the day after coming off was for him a day of sadness and mourning.

If able to stand, he had to go on duty. Perhaps he had no more brains than a frozen turnip; perhaps his head felt so big that he borrowed a shoe-horn to put on his hat, nevertheless he was drilled on deck just all the same, and it took him four days probably to recover his appetite and equilibrium.

—

There was every appearance now that the Flora M'Vayne would have a pleasant voyage.

Talbot was kind to his fellows, and a rattling good crew they made. So, although they passed Madeira and the Canary Islands to the west, they looked in at Santiago, one of the largest in the group of Cape de Verde Islands.

Three days were spent here, and they managed to secure some really good water. It was only the distilled they used at sea, and this, to say the least of it, is always somewhat vapourish.

The men had leave, and behaved fairly well, returning sober and with many curios, which they hoped to take home to their sweethearts and wives, and also laden with fruit of many kinds, all of which is good for the health of the sailor.

Plenty of fruit was also secured for the saloon, so they put to sea again in capital heart and spirits.

One little incident is perhaps worth noting. A huge bunch of bananas was hung up to ripen against the saloon bulkhead. That was right enough; but when a venomous little snake-slender in form and about the colour of hedge-sparrow's egg-popped out his head and neck, and whispered angrily at Conal, then Conal called his comrades, and a court of inquiry was held. It was believed to be the best plan to take the bunch of bananas on deck by means of a blacksmith's tongs, and shake it over the sea.

But that beautiful green demon of the jungle thought perhaps that he did not merit the honour of a sailor's grave, so he popped out and skipped gaily into Duncan's cabin.

"Here's a pretty go," said Conal; "and I should be sorry to sleep in that state-room until the reptile is found."

So a search was instituted instanter, and a dangerous one it was. But wherever it had taken refuge that snake could not be found.

The young fellows took rugs on deck that night, and slept on the planks.

Theirs was the forenoon watch, and when turning out to keep it, lo! that little green demon glided quietly out from Conal's very bosom, and went leaping and rolling along the deck, aft, finally tumbling down the skylight and on to the table where the captain was lingering over his breakfast.

For more than a week that snake-known to be one of the most poisonous there is-was the terror of the ship. He was in entire command fore and aft, and the skipper was nowhere. The awful, though lovely thing, appeared in so many places, moreover, that it was believed to be ubiquitous. Sometimes it would glide out of a sea-boot or a sou'wester hat. It was twice found in the sleeve of an oilskin-jacket, once it curled up for the night with Viking, and once in the pocket of the man at the wheel.

This sailor had dived his hand into the outside pocket of his coat to find his "baccy", when, instead of this, he felt the cold wriggling-wriggling thing; he gave a whoop like a Somali Indian with six inches of square-0 gin in his stomach! The scream started the snake from his lair, and he went girdling along the deck and disappeared below as usual.

But he was smashed at last and heaved far into the sea.

Strange to say, Mr. Snakey, as he was called, appeared again all alive and beautiful next morning.

"He's the d-l for sartin," said a blue-jacket. "Dead one day and squirming around the next. Yes, Bill-what else can he be but the d-l, and maybe just the same bloomin' old snake as tempted Mother Heve in the Garding of Heden!"

But this snake was killed next, and there was no more trouble after this.

Captain Talbot, however, issued an order that before bananas were again brought on board the bunches were to be well examined. Or, in doctor's parlance, when taken, they must be well shaken.

—

Ascension was their next place of call. It is generally called a rock in mid-ocean. It is somewhat more than that, being over seven miles in length and fully six broad. It is hilly, its chief peak being about three thousand feet in height.

Well, the Flora M'Vayne was enabled to get coals here anyhow, and they found the place what I might call semi-garrisoned. Moreover a gun-boat lay here. The officers of the Flora visited her, and were hospitably received, and invited to dinner, everyone both afloat and on shore being anxious to receive news from England, while the papers the Flora had brought were a sort of godsend.

The beautiful island of St. Helena did not lie in their direct route, but Tristan d'Acunha-more than a thousand miles directly south-did, and here they determined to cast anchor for a spell, and give the islanders a treat.

(I have given the ordinary name to this lonesome isle of the ocean, but correctly, I believe it should be Tristan Da Cunha-pronounced Coon'ya. It is really a group of three, the chief being about twenty-one miles in circumference, and having in its centre a very lofty mountain peak more nearly 8000 feet than 7000 in height.)

They found about one hundred souls living on this isle. The settlement, or glen in which they have their habitat, is fairly fertile, and the ubiquitous Scot is so much in evidence here that the village is called New Edinburgh.

It is in reality a republic, and the oldest man is chief or governor. The cattle and sheep number about two thousand, and belong, of course, all in common. Well, they are happy enough, and crime is unknown, the chief reason of this being perhaps that drink is also unknown.

There were some really very pretty girls here, but when they were assembled an evening or two after the Flora's arrival in a barn to listen to the strains of Frank's fiddle, recitations, and songs, those girls looked laughably quaint in their strange old-fashioned dresses.

The concert was a great success, and really the skirl of Duncan's Highland bagpipe as he strode back and fore on the rude stage, quite brought down the house, to use theatrical parlance. It almost brought down the barn too, so thrilling and loud was it. Never mind, Duncan received no less than three hearty encores, and surely that was enough to please anyone.

"What a lonely life to lead!" said Conal next day at breakfast.

"Yes," said Morgan, "and I shouldn't care to get spliced and settle down here all my life, pretty and all as the girls are."

"Well, you would live long and be healthy anyhow if you did," said Captain Talbot.

The mate laughed as he helped himself to another huge slice of barracouta.

"Never mind that, sir. I wouldn't marry and live in Tristan if they gave me three wives."

"But aren't these girls shy?" said Frank. "Why, I asked one innocently enough to give me a kiss, and she blushed like a blood orange."

"Did she give you the kiss?" asked Morgan mischievously.

"No, that she didn't, but-I took it."

The Flora M'Vayne lay here for a whole week, fishing and curing each catch.

This was a rare holiday for the islanders, who were the gayest of the gay all the time.

One morning a sailor of the crew sought an interview with Captain Talbot on the quarter-deck.

"Well, my man?"

"Well, sir, it's like this. I've fallen in love here with the slickest-lookin' bit of a lass I ever clapped eyes upon 'twix' here, sir, and San Domingo; and if you please, capting, I wants to stay here and marry her right away, and live happy hever arterwards."

The captain laughed.

"My good fellow," he said, "I am truly sorry to disappoint you; but you signed articles for all the cruise, you know, and I fear I can't let you go. I'd be one hand short, you see."

"That you would not, sir, for there is Billy Ibsen, as good a seaman, I believe, as ever 'auled taut a lee main brace, and he'll be 'appy to exchange."

"Well then, Smith, if that's the case, and the substitute is suitable, I mustn't throw any obstacles in your way."

And so all ended well. Ibsen proved fit, and Smith went on shore. When the Flora sailed away he was the last man visible, standing on an eminence waving a red bandanna, with the girl of his choice standing modestly by his side.

Little did this island lassie think when the ship hove in sight that it was bringing her a lover and a husband.

But although rare at Tristan Da Cunha, the young ladies of that solitary rock, in the midst of the Atlantic broad and wild, do sometimes count upon the possibility of such an event, and may be heard singing:

"He's coming from the north that will marry me,He's coming from the north, and oh happy I will be,With a broad-sword by his side and a buckle on his knee,And I know it, oh, I know it, that he'll marry me".

But the Tristan Da Cunha people are moral and good, and although they have no parson on board they have services on Sunday. As to marriage-well, the governor does the splicing, and it is considered quite as binding as if the ceremony had been performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Southward now they sailed away in a delightful breeze, and when the sun was slowly sinking towards the western sea, the weird wee island of Tristan appeared but as a hazy cloud far away on the northern horizon.

So strange a place our young heroes had never visited before, and for many days it seemed but an island of dreamland.

But that island, readers, is still there amidst its waste of waters, and it is within the kaleidoscope of events, that some of you may yet visit its iron-bound and surf-beaten shores.

Who knows?

CHAPTER V. – JOHNNIE SHINGLES AND OLD MR. PEN

South, straight south. South as the bird flies. And with a fair and spanking breeze too. As for birds-once past the rocky and volcanic island of Diego Alvarez, few indeed bore them company. I believe anybody might have this rocky place who had a mind to. They found it to be the home of myriads-clouds, in fact-of gulls of every sort, including the well-known Cape pigeon, the puffin, the penguin, and albatross, to say nothing of the cormorant, and that strange, strange creature on its wondrous wings, that lives in the sky most of its time, and even goes to sleep as it soars high above the clouds-the frigate-bird.

They went near enough to the island to witness one of the strangest sights in nature-the bird-laden rocks. There was little chance of landing on the island itself, owing to the terrible surf that beats for ever and aye around the cliffs; but Ibsen, who turned out to be a real handy fellow, had been here before, and pointed out to the captain some rocks in the lee of which a boat could land, and-this being spring in these regions-soon find enough eggs to keep the crew in food for a month. His knowledge was taken advantage of, and a boat under his guidance called away.

In it went Duncan and Frank.

What a scene! It beats imagination. Tier after tier on the rocky cliffs sat those birds watching their nests and eggs.

They found a little cove in the tiny islet, and at the head of this the boat was beached on the dark sand. The ground was everywhere so crowded with nests that it was with difficulty they could walk amongst them without doing damage.

How beautiful they were too! Of every shade of blue and green, with the strangest of jet-black markings, were most of them.

But the king penguins did not cohabit with any of the gull families. They thought themselves far too aristocratic for this, and here, as on other lonely isles of the great southern ocean, they dwelt in a colony all by themselves, which must have numbered about one thousand all told. This colony had footpaths leading down to the shallowest parts of the shore, whence these droll birds could easily take to the water.

They are really droll, whether walking, standing, running, or swimming. They stand quite erect on their sturdy legs, so that a line dropped from their beaks would almost fall between their broad webbed feet. Wings they have none, a pair of broad flappers doing duty for these, which seems to aid considerably their progress in running. But these flappers are really paddles or oars in the water, and I know of few birds that can swim so fast or turn so quickly in the sea.

On the arrival of the boat's crew there was a general panic among this community. As regards the male birds, tall as they were, they did not show a very great amount of courage.

Sauve qui peut was their motto, and let the females take care of themselves. Like the pigs in New Testament times, when the cast-out devils got leave to go into them, they ran headlong down a steep place into the sea. Their motions as they waddled and scurried along, oftentimes tumbling over a stone or a tussock heap, were grotesque in the extreme, and everyone roared with laughter.

With the exception of little Johnnie Shingles. I'm sure I cannot tell you how he came to be called Johnnie Shingles, for pet names grow on board ship just as they do on shore. Johnnie was picked up somewhere abroad, and was looked upon as part and parcel of the good barque Flora M'Vayne. He was a nigger of purest, blackest breed, probably four feet four inches high, and in age something between nine and nineteen. Nobody knew and nobody cared. Johnnie Shingles was just Johnnie Shingles, no more and no less. Well, he couldn't have been much less. He was very funny, however, and consequently a favourite with everybody on board, from Mate Morgan to the monkey. His duty on board was really to be at the beck and call of all hands, and to clean and feed the pets, including Viking, the red-tailed gray parrot, and Jim the ape.

Well, you see, Johnnie was never allowed to land from the boat like any of the crew, but as soon as he came within reasonable distance of the shore he was simply thrown overboard, and left to struggle in through the surf as best he could.