In the Misty Seas: A Story of the Sealers of Behring Strait

Suddenly the harsh voice he feared broke the silence, and Appleby instinctively set his lips when he saw his comrade cross the deck. It was noticeable that Niven went at a trot, and if he had been told that one side of the poop is usually sacred to the officer of the watch knowing that haste was advisable he forgot. A moment or two later he stood panting at the head of the ladder, which rose about six feet from the deck, and the mate strode towards him with arm drawn back. Possibly something had ruffled his temper, which was at the best a bad one, that night.

"There are two ladders to this poop, and this will teach you which is yours," he said.

Then before Niven could speak the arm shot out, and the breathless lad reeled backwards with head swimming and a tingling face. The blow had possibly not been a very cruel one, but the Aldebaran swung her stern up just then, and the opening in the rails was close behind him. He went out through it backwards, caught his foot on the rung of the ladder, and pitching over came down with a sickening thud on deck. Appleby, who had seen it all, ran aft and knelt down beside him.

"Chriss, are you hurt?" he gasped.

There was no answer, and hearing a rattle on the ladder the lad looked up, and saw the mate standing close by. He had his hands in his pockets, but there was an unpleasant look in his face.

"Shamming. Take him forward," he said, and stooped as though about to shake the lad who still lay motionless.

He, however, straightened himself as Appleby rose up, and stood before him, quivering, with hand clenched and a blaze in his eyes.

"Get back! You have done enough," he said, and if Niven could have heard it he would scarcely have recognized his comrade's voice.

"Hello!" the mate said sharply. "Were you talking to me?"

"Yes," said Appleby hoarsely, but very quietly. "And I have a little more to tell you. You can't do these things with impunity, and we'll have you kicked out of the Company for this."

It was not, of course, a judicious speech, but Appleby was scarcely in a state to decide what was most fitting then. The mate moved a pace nearer him, and his hands were out of his pockets now, but he stopped close by Appleby, for the lad stood stiffly upright, his face grey with passion.

"I'll make you sorry. Get him out of this," he said.

Then Niven raised himself a little, and blinked dizzily at both of them. "I think I could get up if you helped me, Tom," he said.

Appleby shivered a little as he saw the red smear on the back of his head, but before he moved an elderly man with a sour face and grizzled hair came down the ladder and stopped in front of them. He glanced at Niven and then at Appleby, but it is probable that a scene of the kind was not quite new to him, and his face was expressionless.

"Well, what's it all about?" he said.

Appleby had but once or twice spoken to the captain, who was a grim, silent man, and not seen very often in fine weather. Whether he was contented with the mate's conduct was not apparent, but as usual it was the latter who handled the ship's company.

"You had better ask the mate, sir," said Appleby. "He knocked him down the ladder."

The skipper turned towards the other man, and the mate laughed a little.

"That's not quite right, sir," he said. "The lad can't take telling, and he came up the wrong ladder when I sang out for him. I guessed it was done out of impudence, and let him have it so it wouldn't hurt him much with the flat of my hand. She gave a lurch just then that threw him off his feet and down he went. Then this one began a rumpus, and told me he'll have me run out of the service."

The skipper stooped over Niven. "Head's cut – at the back," he said in an expressionless voice. "Get up, and go aft, my lad. I'll fix it for you."

Niven rose shakily, and obeying the skipper's pointing hand walked towards the poop with uneven steps. Then the latter looked at Appleby.

"What did he mean by that?" he said quietly.

Appleby understood the question, and though he fancied he was doing wisely made a blunder. "I think I can do all I told him, sir," he said. "You see, this ship is carrying Mr. Niven's goods, and one could fancy the Company is glad to get them."

"Niven?" said the skipper, more to himself than the others. "Most of the freight belongs to Clarke and Hall."

"They're dead," said Appleby, who had been told this. "There's only Mr. Niven in the business now."

The skipper looked thoughtful. "Now I remember," he said as he turned towards the mate, and stopped. "Well, this is my affair, Appleby, and I'm the only man who can question what the mate does on board this ship. If you do it again it will be the worse for you. Remember that."

Appleby touched his cap and moved away, and presently Niven came forward from the poop with his head tied up. He was still pale, and moved slowly, while he had little to tell his comrade.

"He put some stuff that smarted on the cut, but didn't ask any questions, and told me to lie down," he said. "I'm going to do it because I'm not myself yet. My head's all humming, and I don't seem to want to talk."

Appleby helped him into his bunk, and then went back to his watch, while he told Lawson all that had passed when he next had an opportunity. The elder lad listened gravely.

"You fancy the old man believed you?" he said.

"Yes," said Appleby. "It isn't my fault if he didn't. I did my best to make him."

Lawson shook his head. "Then I'm afraid you made a mess of things," he said. "You see, if the old man believed you the mate would."

"Of course!" said Appleby. "That was what I wanted."

"Well," said Lawson, "it's unfortunate that you did. Now the old man's tolerably tough, but he's not a fool, and, to give him his due, is content with getting two men's work out of every one of the crew. He knows the men who fill the ships up can make things nasty for the captain, and it's quite likely he'll talk straight to the mate, though he wouldn't to you, and that's not going to make the mate any fonder of you and Niven."

"I was hoping it would keep him quiet," said Appleby.

"It wouldn't," said Lawson. "All that Niven's father could do would be to get him turned out, and if the mate thought that likely he'd make it warm for you before he went, you see. If you've any pull on the owners it's not, as a rule, advisable to mention it at sea. It doesn't make anybody think the better of you."

Appleby groaned. "I've been an ass again," he said. "Still, I fancied he had killed Niven – and I had to do something."

Lawson smiled dryly. "There's only one thing anybody can do at sea, and that's to keep his mouth shut and out of the way of trouble," he said. "When you can't help things there's no use in kicking."

Appleby made no answer. It was a somewhat grim lesson, but it was one that sooner or later every lad must learn, and the result of it is the capacity for endurance which is not infrequently worth a good deal more than courage in action.

CHAPTER V

UNDER TOPSAILS

Appleby was not long in discovering that Lawson was right. Hitherto the mate had only stormed at him and his comrade as he did at the rest of the vessel's company, but now he seemed to single them out for abuse whenever he had an opportunity, and he managed to find a good many. It was true that he attempted no further violence, but they could have borne that better than the relentless petty persecution, for there was scarcely a difficult or unpleasant task within their strength that the lads were not set to do. Unpleasant duties are also by no means uncommon on board a sailing ship.

Still, Appleby had seen that to protest was useless and likely to make things worse, while because the mate was cunning as well as cruel it would have been difficult to make a definite complaint even if there had been anybody to listen to him, which, however, was not the case. So he set his lips and bore it, and so as he could endeavoured to restrain Niven, who would now and then break out into fits of impotent anger or lie silent in his bunk after some fresh indignity. Had the work been always necessary Appleby would have endeavoured to do it willingly, though it was now and then almost disgusting, but the mate probably knew this, and arranged things so that he should feel he was doing most of it only to please his enemy. Grown men have been driven to self-destruction or murderous retaliation by treatment of this kind, and after a few weeks of it both lads felt they could endure no more.

Meanwhile the weather grew colder and the work harder. That was not the worst time of the year for rounding Cape Horn, but they found it bad enough, for the Aldebaran met wild weather and she was loaded heavily, while on the afternoon she lay rather more than a hundred miles to the eastwards of the dreaded cape her crew were almost too worn out for duty. She was then heading about south-west upon the starboard tack, thrashing very slowly to windward under topsails, and flooding her decks with icy water each time she poked her nose into the seas, and she did it tolerably often, for the seas were very big. They came rolling down to meet her out of the south-west, blue-black in the hollows, which were streaked with foam and frothing on their crests, and Appleby would hold his breath when one larger than its fellows rose high above the starboard bow. Most often the Aldebaranwould swing up her head in time and climb over the big wall of water with a swooping lurch, while the spray that whirled up from her bows rattled like grapeshot into her foretopsails and blew out in showers between the masts. Now and then, however, she went through, and then there was a thud and roar and her forecastle was lost from sight. It seemed a long while before she hove it up again streaming, and every man held on to what was handiest when the long deck was swept by torrents of icy brine. Then while frothy wisps blew away from the forecastle and every scupper on one side spouted she would stagger on again for perhaps ten minutes more dryly, because the long ocean seas are by no means all equally steep and high.

Appleby and Niven were holding on, shivering with cold and wet through in spite of their oilskins, by a pin on the weather rail, for the deck slanted sharply and the water was washing everywhere. Glancing forward they could see nothing but spray, and every now and then the frothing top of a larger sea hove up against a vivid glare of green. When they looked up, which it was not often advisable to do, they could see the mastheads raking across a patch of hard deep blue, athwart which clouds with torn edges whirled. There was little canvas on the slanted spars, two jibs that ran water above the bowsprit, two topsails on either mast, a staysail or two between them, and half the spanker on the mizzen. The sails did not look as if they were made of flexible canvas but cast in rigid metal.

Presently a wet man came clawing his way along, and stopped when Niven called to him.

"Did you hear what we had made?" he said.

The man nodded, and growled at the spray which beat into his face. "The stooard he heard the old man and the mate a-fixing it," he said. "She's worked off about another twenty miles since noon yestidday."

Niven groaned. "Only twenty miles!" he said. "That's another week before we can square away."

"Well," said the man with a little grim laugh, "I'd give her another fortnight when I was at it. She'll take all that to fetch round with this wind, any way."

The two lads looked at each other, and neither of them said anything when in a lull between two plunges the man lurched away, but that was because they fancied he was right and both were unwilling to admit all that they were feeling.

They knew a good deal about close-hauled sailing now, for during four long weeks the Aldebaran had been thrashing her way to windward in the face of stinging gales. Sometimes when the sea was a trifle smoother she would gain a little on every tack, and then a fresh storm would come roaring down, and when they had furled the higher sails with half-frozen hands she would do little more than hold the wind upon her side and of course make nothing at all in the required direction. Also they had often to heave her to under little rags of sail with the sea upon her bow while she blew away to leeward and lost in a few hours all they had won the preceding day.

Always the decks were flooded, and the men wet to the skin. The galley fire was frequently washed out, and they got cold provisions, often so soaked with salt water that they could scarcely eat them, while when sleep was possible they lay down as they were, all dripping, too worn out to strip off their clothes. It would not have been advisable to take them off in any case, for they might be turned out at any moment to furl upper topsails or haul down staysails in a sudden freshening of the gale. Canvas was furled and hoisted continually, because a ship will not sail to windward through a heavy sea unless she is sternly pressed, while her crew fight for every yard she makes.

Appleby even in his oilskins looked very gaunt and thin. His face was hollow and bronzed by exposure to bitter wind and stinging brine, while Niven, like many of the others, was troubled with painful sores from sleeping in salt-stiffened clothes. Their hands were stiffened and clawlike, their knuckles bleeding, and from the ceaseless rasp of ropes the undersides of their fingers were very like grain-leather. Worn out utterly and half-fed they were just holding out with the rest of the Aldebaran's company until they could thrash her far enough to the westwards to square away and run north into better weather on the other side of Cape Horn.

"Hallo!" said Niven presently. "That's a nasty cloud. I wonder what fresh beastliness it's bringing us."

Appleby, glancing to windward, saw that the glaring green beyond the seatops had faded out, and the horizon was smeared with grey. It also seemed to be closing in upon them rapidly, and overhead a black cloud with torn edges was swallowing up the strip of blue.

"More wind, any way. She'll scarcely bear upper topsails now," he said with a little groan. "Still, the old man's tolerably stubborn at carrying on."

Niven, glancing aft, could see the skipper's gaunt figure swung high upon the poop against a frothing sea as he too glanced to windward. He was probably as anxious as any one to get round Cape Horn, but it was only by carrying sail to the last moment and making the most of every lull he could hope to do it. Even as he gazed ragged ice fell pattering along the decks, and the daylight died out leaving a grey dimness behind it. Then for a few minutes sea and ship were hidden by the flying hail. It cut the lads' raw knuckles until they could have cried out in agony, thrashed their wet faces and rattled on their oilskins, while the rigging roared above them, and twice in succession the Aldebaranput her whole forecastle in. Then a great sea foamed in almost solid over her weather rail, and through all the uproar rang a high-pitched cry. The words were indistinguishable as they would have been a yard away, but the lads recognized it as the summons to shorten sail. For a minute or two they were busy about the deck, and then while the ship swayed over further the mate lurched by and grabbed the Dutchman, who was working awkwardly with one hand, by the shoulder.

"Lay aloft, and give them a hand up there, you skulking hog," he said.

"Mine arm," said the seaman, "der right one, she is nod of good to me."

Appleby remembered that the fellow had badly hurt his arm, and scarcely wondered at his reluctance to go aloft with only one hand to trust to as he glanced above. The upper topsail had been partly lowered down, but the loose canvas was thrashing between the yards, and these sloped down towards the whitened sea apparently as steeply as the roof of a house. Still, it was evident that every man was needed, for there were other sails to be handled and the Aldebaran was apparently going bodily over. She hove her nose up for an instant, and Appleby had a momentary glimpse of a jib that had burst its sheet thrashing itself to pieces above the bowsprit. Then sight and hearing was lost in a cloud of flying brine.

When he could open his eyes again he saw the mate lift his fist, and the Dutchman glance deprecatingly at the arm that hung at his side.

"Lay aloft," said the former, "before you get a damaged head as well as an arm."

The Dutchman shuffled towards the shrouds, and just then a half-heard shout came down from one of the black figures on the inclined yard. "We're beat. Send us another hand."

It was already evident to Niven that as the yard was higher than it should have been something was foul, and he could see that unless the men had help they would be hurled off it or the sail blown away. It was not his especial duty, but it was no time to be particular when the Aldebaran lay swept from end to end at the mercy of the squall, and he swung himself up into the shrouds close behind the Dutchman with Appleby following. The wind flattened them against the rattlings as they fought their way up, and then almost choked and blinded them as with the swinging foot-rope against their heel and stiffened hands on the slippery spar they crept outwards from the mast along the yard. They were not of very much use there, indeed, most often they were in the way, but they did what they could while the hail lashed their faces and the drenched and stiffened canvas banged about them so that to hear anything else was almost impossible. At times somebody shouted, but the words were blown to leeward and quite incomprehensible.

It was their business to roll up the great flapping sail, and lash it to the yard, but parts of it tore away from them, and blew out with a bang like a rifle-shot every now and then, while the long wet spar they leaned across increased the steepness of its slant. Niven glancing down a moment fancied that the Aldebaran'sleeward rail was in the sea, and saw the rigid figure on the weather side of the poop waving a hand to them. He could, of course, hear no voice at all, but surmised the gestures meant it was high time their work was finished. Then the Aldebaran dipped her nose into a sea, and the cloud of spray she flung up hid everything, while in another moment a more furious gust shrieked about them. The yard slanted still further, and he fancied it was impossible the ship could recover.

His hands were stiffened and almost useless, his fingers were bleeding, and his breath was spent, while as he held on helpless for a moment there was a sound like thunder, and as a strip of canvas rent itself from the grasp of those about him he saw the Dutchman clawing desperately at the yard. The man slipped along it a foot or two, and Niven, seeing his fingers sliding, remembered he had an injured arm. He had also evidently lost his footing, for one leg was dangling, and the lad instinctively seized his shoulder. That left him one hand to hold on by, and he gasped with horror as he felt his fingers slipping from the yard and saw a great sea burst into a tumultuous frothing beneath him.

He was too cold and dazed to wonder if any of the others saw what was happening, and could remember only that if he loosed his hold the man he clutched would go whirling down to strike the iron bulwarks or plunge into the sea. So he set his lips, and while his arms seemed to be coming away from their sockets held on for a moment or two.

Then the hand he grasped the yard with slipped a trifle further, and with a sickening horror he felt his clawlike fingers yield, but dazed, half-blinded, and too overwrought with the struggle to think, he still clutched the Dutchman. In another moment the hand came away altogether, and man and boy went down.

Now a second or two earlier Appleby had noticed their peril, but could do nothing because there was a man between them and him. He smote the fellow's shoulder and shouted, but his words were blown away, and no one else had eyes for anything but the banging sail. It was too late before he could shout again, for with a little gasp he saw the two figures whirl downwards beneath him, until, because the Aldebaran lurched a trifle just then, the smaller of them struck a big wire stay with folds of loose canvas about it where it joined the mast, and lay for a second or two across it. The other fell on the top of the deckhouse, and then, while Appleby shivered, rolled off it and down on to the deck below. Almost as this happened Niven slipped from the hauled-down staysail and fell upon the house too, but apparently upon feet and hands together.

Then as Appleby endeavoured to get back to the mast so that he could descend, the man nearest it grasped him and he could not pass. The lad could not hear what he said, but he guessed its purport, and grew sick with horror as he saw that the man was right. There were others below to pick up the fallen if there was any life in them, and with the ship in peril every hand was needed on the yards. Also, while that fact might not have stopped him, he could not pass the man, who barred his way to the mast.

So he stayed, and did what little he could among the rest, until at last they had stowed the sail, and then went down in frantic haste, only to be driven forward by the second mate. The latter was a kindly man, but there are times when the injured or dying must take care of themselves at sea, and there was still strenuous work to do. Thus at least half-an-hour had passed, and the Aldebaran was blowing sideways about as fast as she forged ahead under lower topsails when Appleby reached the deckhouse breathless and dripping. It was almost dark inside it, for driving cloud had blotted the daylight out, but the swinging lamp diffused a sickly radiance which fell on his comrade as Appleby bent over his dripping bunk. Everything in the deckhouse was wet, as was Niven's face, but though it was drawn and white his eyes were open.

"Not quite all smashed up yet," he said with a little smile.

Appleby felt almost dizzy with relief, and his voice shook a trifle as he said, "But you are hurt, Chriss?"

"Well," said Niven feebly, though there was a little twinkle in his eyes, "it wouldn't be astonishing if I was, but I think a good lie down will put me right again. There was a big lump of the staysail under me, and I fetched the top of the house on my hands and toes. Couldn't get up just now, however, if I wanted to."

Appleby could think of nothing fitting to say, and patted his comrade's shoulder while he turned his head away. His eyes were a trifle hazy, and he felt that there are a good many things one cannot express in speech.

"The Dutchman?" he said presently.

Niven seemed to shiver, and shook his head. "I don't know. Couldn't take much notice of anything because I felt all in pieces myself just then, but I saw him come down," he said. "He just seemed to crunch up – as if he was an egg."

Lawson, who was sitting on his chest, made a gesture of impatience. "Now you shut up and lie still," he said. "Any one would fancy you had done enough to take a rest." Then he nodded to Appleby. "Get out. It's quietness he wants, and it's not going to make anything any better to remember what happened to the other fellow. I'll keep an eye on him, and you needn't worry."

Appleby, who knew Lawson could be trusted to do this, went out, and it was an hour or two later when he and the rest sat in the house again over a big can of tea which the cook had by some means contrived to supply them with. They still wore streaming oilskins, and the lamp that swung above them cast flickers of smoky radiance across their wet faces, while from outside came a muffled roar of wind and the crash of falling water as the Aldebaran lurched over the great smoking seas. Niven was evidently a little better, and smiled, though his face was awry with pain, when Appleby lifted his shoulders a little and handed him a biscuit soaked in tea.

"It's nice yellow jellies and grapes I'd be eating if I was laid up at home," said he.

"If you don't stop we'll make you," said one of the other lads. "Who has got any business to talk of those things at sea? What did the old man do to you?"

Niven grinned in a sickly fashion. "He asked me where I felt bad, and I told him everywhere," he said. "Then he and the steward pulled the clothes off me and prodded me with their fists. They didn't seem to find anything broken, but I was sore all over, and I'd sooner be whacked with a horse-girth than go through that again."