The Sea-Witch, Maturin Murray Ballou [nonfiction book recommendations txt] 📗

Brace, Marline is an old and favorite seaman, and if you will let this offence pass without further punishment, I will answer for his future good behaviour, at all times. I ask it, sir, as a personal favor.’

“‘But discipline, discipline must be observed, Mr. Ratlin.’

“‘I acknowledge he’s in fault, sir,’ said our mate.

“‘And deserves the punishment,’ said the captain.

“‘I fear he does, sir; but yet I can’t bear to see a good seaman flogged, said the mate, apologetically.

“‘Nor I either,’ said the captain; ‘but Bill Marline deserves the cat, though as you make it a personal matter, why I’ll let him off this time, Mr. Ratlin.’

“The captain didn’t wish to let me go, but he said he wished to gratify his mate, and so I was cast loose, and after a broadside of advice, and a hurricane of oaths, was turned over to duty again. I didn’t forget that favor, messmates, and sink me if I wouldn’t go to the bottom to serve him any time. He commanded a brig in the South American trade after that, and would have made a mate of me, hut somehow I’ve got a weakness for grog that isn’t very safe, and so he knows ‘twont do. You see him there now, messmates, as calm as a lady; but he’s awake when there’s need of it. The man don’t live that can handle a ship better than he; and as for fighting, do ye see, messmates, we were running on this here same tack, just off the—but avast upon that, I haven’t any more to say, messmates,” said the speaker, demurely.

Bill Marline evidently found himself treading upon dangerous ground, and wisely cut short his yarn, thereby creating a vast amount of curiosity among his messmates, but he sternly refused to speak further upon the subject. Either his commander had prohibited him, or he found that by speaking he should in some way compromise the credit or honor of one upon whom he evidently looked as being little less than one of a superior order of beings to himself.

“But what do you bring up so sudden for? Pay out, old fellow, there’s plenty of sea-room, and no land-sharks to fear,” said one of the group, encouragingly.

“Never you mind, messmates, there’s nothing like keeping a civil tongue in your head, especially being quiet about other people’s business,” added Bill.

“What think you, Bill, of this present vocation, eh?” asked another companion.

“I shipped for six months, that’s all I know, and no questions asked. I understand very well that Captain Ratlin wouldn’t ship me where he wouldn’t go himself.”

“Well, do you see, Bill, most of us are new on board here, though we have knocked about long enough to get the number of our mess and to work ship together, and don’t perhaps feel so well satisfied as you do.”

“Why, look ye, messmates, arnt you satisfied so long as the articles you signed are kept by captain and crew?” asked Bill Marline, somewhat tartly.

“Why, yes, as to that matter; but where are we bound, Bill?” asked the other.

“Any boy in the ship can make out the ‘Sea Witch’s’ course,” said the old tar, evasively. “We’re in these here Northern Trades, close-hauled, and heading, according to my reckoning, due east, and any man who has stood his trick at the wheel of a ship, knows that such a course steered from the West Indies will, if well followed, run down the Cape Verds; that’s all I know.”

“Port Praya and a port; that was in the articles sure enough,” answered he who had questioned Bill Marline; “but the ‘Sea Witch’ will scarce anchor there before she is off again, according to my reckoning.”

That the old tar knew more than he chose to divulge, however, was apparent to his comrades, but they knew him to be fixed when he chose, and so did not endeavor by importunity to gather anything further from him; so the conversation gradually changed into some other channel.

In the meantime, while the crew gathered about Bill Marline were thus speculating, the vessel bowled along gracefully, with a speed that was in itself exhilarating to her young commander, who still gazed idly at the passing current. Once or twice a slight frown clouded his features, and his lips moved as though he was striving within himself either against real or imaginary evil, and then the same calm, placid manliness of countenance radiated his handsome features, and his lips were composed.

Now he turned to issue some necessary order, which was uttered in that calm, manly distinctness that challenges obedience, and then he resumed his idle gaze over the vessel’s side, once more losing himself in his day dream.

 

CHAPTER III.

THE GALE.

 

“THE Wind seems to be hauling,” said the mate, walking aft, and addressing his superior.

“Keep her a good full,” said the captain, to the man at the helm.

“Ay, ay, sir,” said the old tar, as he tried to make the sails draw by altering the vessel’s course a point or two more free.

“Here it is, sure enough,” said the captain, “from the southwest. Up with the men forward once more, Mr. Faulkner!—we must humor our beauty.”

“All hands oil deck!” shouted the mate at the hatch—an order which as before was perfectly obeyed.

Almost as quickly as the foremast had been stripped of the square rig it had at first borne, it was once more clothed again with its topsail and mainsail, and in less than fifteen minutes the “Sea Witch” was under a cloud of canvass, with studd’nsails out on both sides, while the fore and aft sails on the main and mizzen were boomed out wing and wing dead before the wind. The staysails and jibs were hauled down now as useless, and the vessel flew like a courser. The change of wind had brought the sea up, and the vessel had a gradual roll, causing the waves now and then to come gracefully in over the waist, while the extreme fore and aft parts of the handsome craft were perfectly dry.

“It has set her to waltzing, Mr. Faulkner,” said his superior; “but she improves her speed upon to it, and I think the breeze freshens from this new quarter.”

“Yes, sir. Do you see the long bank of white hereaway to the south-southwest; it looks like a fog bank, but may be a squall,” said the mate.

“There are few squalls in these latitudes, Mr. Faulkner, and yet I don’t like the looks of the weather in the southern board,” said the captain, as he gazed to windward, with a quick, searching glance.

While he spoke, the wind came fresher and fresher, and now and then a damp puff and lull, that were too significant tokens for a seaman to disregard. Captain Ratlin jumped upon the inner braces of the taffrail, and shading his eyes with his hands for a moment, looked steadily to windward, then glanced at his well-filled sails as though he was loth to lose even a minute of such a fair wind. He delayed, however, but a second, when jumping down to the deck again, he issued his orders in those brief but significant tones of voice, which at the same time imparts promptness and confidence in a waiting crew on shipboard.

“In studd’nsails, gaff-topsails, fore royal and top-gallantsails, with a will, men, cheerily, cheerily O!”

These were tones that the crew of the “Sea Witch” were no strangers to, and sounds they loved, for they betokened a thorough and complete feeling of confidence between commander and men, and they worked with spirit.

“Lay aft here, and brail the spanker up!” continued the captain, promptly.

“Ay, ay, sir!” was the response of a half dozen ready hands, as they sprang to do his bidding.

The vessel was thus, by the consummation of these orders, quickly reduced to her mainsail, foresail, and foretopsail, while she flew before the oncoming gale at the rate of seventeen or eighteen knots an hour, being actually much faster than the sea. It was now evident to every one on board that a severe gale of wind was gathering, and its force was momentarily more powerfully exercised upon the vessel.

“She staggers under it, Mr. Faulkner,” said his superior, with a calmness that evinced perfect self-reliance and coolness, while he regarded the increasing gale.

“Ay, sir, you can drive her at almost any speed,” answered the mate. “She’s like a mettled courser, sir, and loves the fleet track.”

“Scud while you can, Mr. Faulkner, it’s a true nautical rule. Some men will always heave a ship to if there is a cap fill of—”

“Double-reef the mainsail!” shouted the captain, interrupting himself, to give an order that he saw was imperative.

“—Wind, but I believe in scudding, if you can,” he added.

“Double-reef foretopsail! and look ye, Mr. Faulkner, have presenter sheets bent on the foresail, this wind is in earnest,” said his superior, more seriously, as he jumped into the mizzen shrouds and scanned the sea to windward again.

The gale still increased, and everything being now made snug on board the “Sea Witch,” she was run before it with almost incredible speed. It would have been a study to have regarded the calm self-possession and complete coolness of the young commander during this startling gale; he never once left his post, every inch of the vessel seemed under his eye, and not the least trifle of duty was for a moment forgotten. If possible, he was more particular than usual that his orders in the smallest item were strictly observed, and thus with his iron will and strong intelligence he mastered every contingency of the hour, imparting that indispensable confidence among his people so requisite to perfect control. There was a firmness now expressed in the compressed lips, and a sternness in the eye, that had not before been manifested, while there was a breathing of authority in his smallest order.

In an instant more the scene was changed! With terrific violence the vessel flew up in the wind with the rapidity of thought, and a report like that of a score of cannons fired at the same moment, was heard above the roar of the winds.

“What lubberly trick is this?” shouted the captain, fiercely, to the old tar who held his station at the wheel, and on whose faithfulness everything depended.

“The wheel rope has parted on the larboard side, your honor,” was the reply.

“That is no man’s fault,” said his commander. “Bear a hand here, Mr. Faulkner, and bend on a fresh wheel rope. Be lively; sir, be lively!”

The sails had been blown from the bolt-ropes, in an instant of time, and the vessel now lay wallowing in the sea. Now once more was seen the power of discipline and the coolness of the young commander, whose word was law in that floating community. Fifty voices were raised in shouts above the storm, suggesting this expedient and that, but that agile figure, which we have already described, sprang lightly into the mizzen shrouds, and with a voice that was heard by every soul on board the “Sea Witch,” shouted sternly:

“Silence in the ship!”

Not a voice was heard, and every man quietly awaited his order, looking abashed that there had been a tongue heard save his who had the right alone to speak.

“Cast the gasket off the foot of the fore and aft foresail.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” responded the mate, who having secured the rudder, now hastened by his commander, followed by a dozen hands, to execute the order.

“Haul the sheet to port!”

“Ay, ay, sir!”

“Belay that!”

As the vessel felt the power of the canvass thus opportunely loosed and brought to bear, she gradually paid off before the wind, and once more had steerage way. Another foresail was now