It may seem strange that in such a state of affairs the captain should
be willing to keep the sea with his ship. But the truth was, that by
lying in harbour, he ran the risk of losing the remainder of his men
by desertion; and as it was, he still feared that, in some outlandish
bay or other, he might one day find his anchor down, and no crew to
weigh it.
With judicious officers the most unruly seamen can at sea be kept in
some sort of subjection; but once get them within a cable's length of
the land, and it is hard restraining them. It is for this reason that
many South Sea whalemen do not come to anchor for eighteen or twenty
months on a stretch. When fresh provisions are needed, they run for
the nearest land - heave to eight or ten miles off, and send a boat
ashore to trade. The crews manning vessels like these are for the most
part villains of all nations and dyes; picked up in the lawless ports
of the Spanish Main, and among the savages of the islands. Like
galley-slaves, they are only to be governed by scourges and chains.
Their officers go among them with dirk and pistol - concealed, but
ready at a grasp.
Not a few of our own crew were men of this stamp; but, riotous at
times as they were, the bluff drunken energies of Jennin were just
the thing to hold them in some sort of noisy subjection. Upon an
emergency, he flew in among them, showering his kicks and cuffs right
and left, and "creating a sensation" in every direction. And as
hinted before, they bore this knock-down authority with great
good-humour. A sober, discreet, dignified officer could have done
nothing with them; such a set would have thrown him and his dignity
overboard.
Matters being thus, there was nothing for the ship but to keep the
sea. Nor was the captain without hope that the invalid portion of his
crew, as well as himself, would soon recover; and then there was no
telling what luck in the fishery might yet be in store for us. At any
rate, at the time of my coming aboard, the report was, that Captain
Guy was resolved upon retrieving the past and filling the vessel with
oil in the shortest space possible.
With this intention, we were now shaping our course for Hytyhoo, a
village on the island of St. Christina - one of the Marquesas, and so
named by Mendanna - for the purpose of obtaining eight seamen, who,
some weeks before, had stepped ashore there from the Julia. It was
supposed that, by this time, they must have recreated themselves
sufficiently, and would be glad to return to their duty.
So to Hytyhoo, with all our canvas spread, and coquetting with the
warm, breezy Trades, we bowled along; gliding up and down the long,
slow swells, the bonettas and albicores frolicking round us.
CHAPTER IV.
A SCENE IN THE FORECASTLE
I HAD scarcely been aboard of the ship twenty-four hours, when a
circumstance occurred, which, although noways picturesque, is so
significant of the state of affairs that I cannot forbear relating
it.
In the first place, however, it must be known, that among the crew was
a man so excessively ugly, that he went by the ironical appellation
of "Beauty." He was the ship's carpenter; and for that reason was
sometimes known by his nautical cognomen of "Chips." There was no
absolute deformity about the man; he was symmetrically ugly. But ill
favoured as he was in person, Beauty was none the less ugly in
temper; but no one could blame him; his countenance had soured his
heart. Now Jermin and Beauty were always at swords' points. The
truth was, the latter was the only man in the ship whom the mate had
never decidedly got the better of; and hence the grudge he bore him.
As for Beauty, he prided himself upon talking up to the mate, as we
shall soon see.
Toward evening there was something to be done on deck, and the
carpenter who belonged to the watch was missing. "Where's that skulk,
Chips?" shouted Jermin down the forecastle scuttle.
"Taking his ease, d'ye see, down here on a chest, if you want to
know," replied that worthy himself, quietly withdrawing his pipe from
his mouth. This insolence flung the fiery little mate into a mighty
rage; but Beauty said nothing, puffing away with all the tranquillity
imaginable. Here it must be remembered that, never mind what may be
the provocation, no prudent officer ever dreams of entering a ship's
forecastle on a hostile visit. If he wants to see anybody who happens
to be there, and refuses to come up, why he must wait patiently until
the sailor is willing. The reason is this. The place is very dark:
and nothing is easier than to knock one descending on the head,
before he knows where he is, and a very long while before he ever
finds out who did it.
Nobody knew this better than Jermin, and so he contented himself with
looking down the scuttle and storming. At last Beauty made some cool
observation which set him half wild.
"Tumble on deck," he then bellowed - "come, up with you, or I'll jump
down and make you." The carpenter begged him to go about it at once.
No sooner said than done: prudence forgotten, Jermin was there; and by
a sort of instinct, had his man by the throat before he could well
see him. One of the men now made a rush at him, but the rest dragged
him off, protesting that they should have fair play.
"Now come on deck," shouted the mate, struggling like a good fellow to
hold the carpenter fast.
