She Had Been The
Pet Of The Cook During The Whole Passage, And He Had Fed Her With
The Best Of Everything, And Taught Her To Know His Voice, And To
Do A Number Of Strange Tricks For His Amusement.
Tom Cringle
says that no one can fathom a negro's affection for a pig; and I
believe he is
Right, for it almost broke our poor darky's heart when
he heard that Bess was to be taken ashore, and that he was to have
the care of her no more during the whole voyage. He had depended
upon her as a solace, during the long trips up and down the coast.
"Obey orders, if you break owners!" said he. "Break hearts," he
meant to have said; and lent a hand to get her over the side,
trying to make it as easy for her as possible. We got a whip up on
the main-yard, and hooking it to a strap around her body, swayed
away; and giving a wink to one another, ran her chock up to the
yard. "'Vast there! 'vast!" said the mate; "none of your skylarking!
Lower away!" But he evidently enjoyed the joke. The pig squealed
like the "crack of doom," and tears stood in the poor darky's eyes;
and he muttered something about having no pity on a dumb beast.
"Dumb beast!" said Jack; "if she's what you call a dumb beast,
then my eyes a'n't mates." This produced a laugh from all but
the cook. He was too intent upon seeing her safe in the boat.
He watched her all the way ashore, where, upon her landing, she was
received by a whole troop of her kind, who had been sent ashore from
the other vessels, and had multiplied and formed a large commonwealth.
From the door of his galley, the cook used to watch them in their
manoeuvres, setting up a shout and clapping his hands whenever Bess
came off victorious in the struggles for pieces of raw hide and
half-picked bones which were lying about the beach. During the day,
he saved all the nice things, and made a bucket of swill, and asked
us to take it ashore in the gig, and looked quite disconcerted when
the mate told him that he would pitch the swill overboard, and him
after it, if he saw any of it go into the boats. We told him that
he thought more about the pig than he did about his wife, who lived
down in Robinson's Alley; and, indeed, he could hardly have been
more attentive, for he actually, on several nights, after dark,
when he thought he would not he seen, sculled himself ashore in a
boat with a bucket of nice swill, and returned like Leander from
crossing the Hellespont.
The next Sunday the other half of our crew went ashore on liberty,
and left us on board, to enjoy the first quiet Sunday which we
had had upon the coast. Here were no hides to come off, and no
south-easters to fear. We washed and mended our clothes in the morning,
and spent the rest of the day in reading and writing. Several of us
wrote letters to send home by the Lagoda. At twelve o'clock the
Ayacucho dropped her fore topsail, which was a signal for her
sailing. She unmoored and warped down into the bight, from which
she got under way. During this operation, her crew were a long
time heaving at the windlass, and I listened for nearly an hour to
the musical notes of a Sandwich Islander, called Mahannah, who
"sang out" for them. Sailors, when heaving at a windlass, in order
that they may heave together, always have one to sing out; which is
done in a peculiar, high and long-drawn note, varying with the
motion of the windlass. This requires a high voice, strong lungs,
and much practice, to be done well. This fellow had a very peculiar,
wild sort of note, breaking occasionally into a falsetto. The sailors
thought it was too high, and not enough of the boatswain hoarseness
about it; but to me it had a great charm. The harbor was perfectly
still, and his voice rang among the hills, as though it could have
been heard for miles. Toward sundown, a good breeze having
sprung up, she got under weigh, and with her long, sharp head
cutting elegantly through the water, on a taught bowline, she
stood directly out of the harbor, and bore away to the southward.
She was bound to Callao, and thence to the Sandwich Islands,
and expected to be on the coast again in eight or ten months.
At the close of the week we were ready to sail, but were delayed
a day or two by the running away of F - - -, the man who had
been our second mate, and was turned forward. From the time
that he was "broken," he had had a dog's berth on board the
vessel, and determined to run away at the first opportunity.
Having shipped for an officer when he was not half a seaman,
he found little pity with the crew, and was not man enough to
hold his ground among them. The captain called him a "soger,"(1)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1. Soger (soldier) is the worst term of reproach that can be applied
to a sailor. It signifies a skulk, a sherk, - one who is always
trying to get clear of work, and is out of the way, or hanging back,
when duty is to be done. "Marine" is the term applied more
particularly to a man who is ignorant and clumsy about seaman's work
- a green-horn - a land-lubber. To make a sailor shoulder a handspike,
and walk fore and aft the deck, like a sentry, is the most ignominious
punishment that could be put upon him. Such a punishment inflicted
upon an able seaman in a vessel of war, would break his spirit down
more than a flogging.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
and promised to "ride him down as he would the main tack;" and when
officers are once determined to "ride a man down," it is a gone
case with him.
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