Chapter LI
Peter turned out of his command by his vessel turning bottom up--Acruise on a main-boom, with sharks _en attendant_--Self and crew, withseveral flying fish, taken on board a negro boat--Peter regenerates byputting on a new outward man.
We made Barbadoes without any further adventure, and were about tenmiles off the bay, steering with a very light breeze, and I went downinto the cabin, expecting to be at anchor before breakfast the nextmorning. It was just daylight, when I found myself thrown out of mybed-place on the deck, on the other side of the cabin, and heard therushing of water. I sprang up, I knew the schooner was on her beam ends,and gained the deck. I was correct in my supposition: she had been upsetby what is called a white squall, and in two minutes would be down. Allthe men were up on deck, some dressed, others, like myself, in theirshirts. Swinburne was aft; he had an axe in his hand, cutting away therigging of the main-boom. I saw what he was about; I seized another, anddisengaged the jaw-rope and small gear about the mast. We had no otherchance; our boat was under the water, being hoisted up on the side toleeward. All this, however, was but the work of two minutes; and I couldnot help observing by what trifles lives are lost or saved. Had the axenot been fortunately at the capstern, I should not have been able to cutthe jaw-rope, Swinburne would not have had time, and the main-boom wouldhave gone down with the schooner. Fortunately we had cleared it; theschooner filled, righted a little, and then sank, dragging us and themain-boom for a few seconds down in its vortex, and then we rose to thesurface.
The squall still continued, but the water was smooth. It soon passedover, and again it was nearly calm. I counted the men clinging to theboom, and found that they were all there. Swinburne was next to me. Hewas holding with one hand, while with the other he felt in his pocketfor a quid of tobacco, which he thrust into his cheek. "I wasn't on deckat the time, Mr Simple," said he, "or this wouldn't have happened. I hadjust been relieved, and I told Collins to look out sharp for squalls. Ionly mention it, that if you are saved, and I am not, you mayn't think Iwas neglectful of my duty. We arn't far from the land, but still we aremore likely to fall in with a shark than a friend, I'm thinking."
These, indeed, had been my thoughts, but I had concealed them; but afterSwinburne had mentioned the shark, I very often looked along the waterfor their fins, and down below to see if they were coming up to tear usto pieces. It was a dreadful feeling.
"It was not your fault, Swinburne, I am sure. I ought to have relievedyou myself, but I kept the first watch, and was tired. We must put ourtrust in God; perhaps, we may yet be spared."
It was now almost calm, and the sun had mounted in the heavens: thescorching rays were intolerable upon our heads, for we had not thedefence of hats. I felt my brain on fire, and was inclined to drop intothe water, to screen myself from the intolerable heat. As the dayadvanced so did our sufferings increase. It was a dead calm, the sunperpendicular over us, actually burning that part of our bodies whichrose clear of the water. I could have welcomed even a shark to relieveme of my torment; but I thought of Celeste, and I clung to life. Towardsthe afternoon I felt sick and dizzy; my resolution failed me; my visionwas imperfect; but I was roused by Swinburne, who cried out, "A boat, byall that's gracious! Hang on a little longer, my men, and you aresaved."
It was a boat full of negroes, who had come out to catch flying-fish.They had perceived the spar on the water, and hastened to secure theprize. They dragged us all in, gave us water, which appeared likenectar, and restored us to our fleeting senses. They made fast the boom,and towed it in-shore. We had not been ten minutes on our way, whenSwinburne pointed to the fin of a large shark above the water. "Lookthere, Mr Simple." I shuddered, and made no answer; but I thanked God inmy heart.
In two hours we were landed, but were too ill to walk. We were carriedup to the hospital, bled, and put into cots. I had a brain fever, whichlasted six or seven days, during which O'Brien never left my bedside. Myhead was shaved, all the skin came off my face like a mask, as well asoff my back and shoulders. We were put into baths of brandy and water,and in three weeks were all recovered.
"That was but an unlucky schooner from beginning to end," observedO'Brien, after I had narrated the events of my cruise. "We had a badbeginning with her, and we had a bad ending. She's gone to the bottom,and the devil go with her; however, all's well that ends well, and,Peter, you're worth a dozen dead men yet; but you occasion me a greatdeal of trouble and anxiety, that's the truth of it, and I doubt if Ishall ever rear you, after all."
I returned to my duty on board of the brig, which was now nearly readyfor sea. One morning O'Brien came on board and said, "Peter, I've apiece of news for you. Our gunner is appointed to the _Araxes_, and theadmiral has given me a gunner's warrant for old Swinburne. Send for himon deck."
Swinburne was summoned, and came rolling up the hatchway. "Swinburne,"said O'Brien, "you have done your duty well, and you are now gunner ofthe _Rattlesnake_. Here is your warrant, and I've great pleasure ingetting it for you."
Swinburne turned the quid in his cheek, and then replied, "May I be sobold as to ax, Captain O'Brien, whether I must wear one of them longtog, swallow-tailed coats--because, if so, I'd prefer being aquarter-master?"
"A gunner may wear a jacket, Swinburne, if he likes; when you go onshore you may bend the swallow-tail, if you please."
"Well, sir, then if that's the case, I'll take the warrant, because Iknow it will please the old woman."
So saying, Swinburne hitched up his trousers, and went down below. I mayhere observe that Swinburne kept his round jacket until our arrival inEngland, when the "old woman," his wife, who thought her dignity atstake, soon made him ship the swallow-tail; and, after it was once on,Swinburne took a fancy to it, and always wore it, except when he was atsea.
The same evening, as I was coming with O'Brien from the governor'shouse, where I had dined, we passed a building, lighted up. "What canthat be?" observed O'Brien; "not a dignity ball--there is no music." Ourcuriosity induced us to enter, and we found it to be fitted up as atemporary chapel, filled with black and coloured people, who were rangedon the forms, and waiting for the preacher.
"It is a Methodist meeting," said I to O'Brien.
"Never mind," said he, "let us hear what is going on."
In a moment afterwards the pulpit was filled, not by a white man, as wehad anticipated, but by a tall negro. He was dressed in black, and hishair, which it was impossible to comb down straight, was plaited intofifty little tails, well tied at the end of them, like you sometimes seethe mane of a horse; this produced a somewhat more clerical appearance.His throat was open and collar laid back; the wristbands of his shirtvery large and white, and he flourished a white cambric handkerchief.
"What a dandy he is!" whispered O'Brien.
I thought it almost too absurd when he said he would take the liberty topraise God in the 17th hymn, and beg all the company to join chorus. Hethen gave out the stanzas in the most strange pronunciation.
"Gentle Jesus, God um lub," &c.
When the hymn was finished, which was sung by the whole congregation, inthe most delightful discord,--everyone chose his own key--he gave anextempore prayer, which was most unfortunately incomprehensible, andthen commenced his discourse, which was on _Faith_. I shall omit thehead and front of his offending, which would, perhaps, hardly begratifying although ludicrous. He reminded me of a monkey imitating aman; but what amused me most was his finale, in which he told hisaudience that there could be no faith without charity. For a littlewhile he descanted upon this generally, and at last became personal. Hiswords were, as well as I can recollect, nearly as follows:--
"And now you see, my dear bredren, how unpossible to go to heaven, withall the faith in the world, without charity. Charity mean, give away.Suppose you no give--you no ab charity; suppose you no ab charity--youno ab faith; suppose you no ab faith--you all go to hell and be damned.Now den, let me see if you ab charity. Here, you see, I come to save allyour soul from hell-fire; and hell-fire d
am hot, I can tell you. Dereyou all burn like coal, till you turn white powder, and den burn on tillyou come black again; and so you go on, burn, burn, sometime white,sometime black, for ebber and ebber. The debil never allow Sangoree tocool tongue. No, no cocoa-nut milk,--not a lilly drap of water; debilsee you damned first. Suppose you ask, he poke um fire, and laugh. Well,den, ab you charity? No, you ab not. You, Quashee, how you dare look mein the face? You keep shop--you sell egg--you sell yam--you sell pepperhot--but when you give to me? Eh! nebber, so help me God. Suppose you nosend--you no ab charity, and you go to hell. You black Sambo," continuedhe, pointing to a man in the corner, "ab very fine boat, go out all day,catch fly-fish, bring um back, fry um, and sell for money; but when yousend to me? not one little fish ebber find way to my mouth. What I tellyou 'bout Peter and 'postles--all fishermen; good men, give 'way topoor. Sambo, you no ab charity; and 'spose you no repent this week, andsend one very fine fish in plantain leaf, you go to hell, and burn forebber and ebber. Eh! so you will run away, Massa Johnson," cried he outto another, who was edging to the door; "but you no run away fromhell-fire: when debil catch you, he hold dam tight. You know you killsheep and goat ebery day. You send bell ring all 'bout town for peopleto come buy; but when you send to me? nebber, 'cept once, you gave melilly bit of libber. That not do, Massa Johnson; you no ab charity; andsuppose you no send me sheep's head to-morrow morning, dam you libber,that's all. I see many more, but I see um all very sorry, and dat theymean to sin no more, so dis time I let um off, and say noting about it,because I know plenty of plantain and banana (pointing to one) andoranges and shaddock (pointing to another), and salt fish (pointing to afourth), and ginger-pop and spruce beer (pointing to a fifth), and astraw hat (pointing to a sixth), and eberything else, come to my houseto-morrow. So I say no more 'bout it; I see you all very sorry--you onlyforget. You all ab charity, and all ab faith; so now, my dear bredren,we go down on our knees, and thank God for all this, and more especiallythat I save all your souls from going to the debil, who run aboutBarbadoes like one roaring lion, seeking what he may lay hold of, andcram into his dam fiery jaw."
"That will do, Peter," said O'Brien; "we have the cream of it, I think."
We left the house, and walked down to the boat. "Surely, O'Brien," saidI, "this should not be permitted?"
"He's no worse than his neighbours," replied O'Brien, "and perhaps doesless harm. I admire the rascal's ingenuity; he gave his flock what, inIreland, we should call a pretty broad hint."
"Yes, there was no mistaking him: but is he a licensed preacher?"
"Very little licence in his preaching, I take it; no, I suppose he hashad a _call_."
"A call!--what do you mean?"
"I mean that he wants to fill his belly. Hunger is a call of nature,Peter."
"He seems to want a good many things, if we were to judge by hiscatalogue; what a pity it is that these poor people are not betterinstructed."
"That they never will be, Peter, while there is what may be called freetrade in religion."
"You speak like a Catholic, O'Brien."
"I am one," replied he. And here our conversation ended, for we wereclose to the boat, which was waiting for us on the beach.
The next day a man-of-war brig arrived from England, bringing lettersfor the squadron on the station. I had two from my sister Ellen whichmade me very uncomfortable. She stated that my father had seen my uncle,Lord Privilege, and had had high words with him; indeed, as far as shecould ascertain of the facts, my father had struck my uncle, and hadbeen turned out of the house by the servants; that he had returned in astate of great excitement, and was very ill ever since; that there was agreat deal of talk in the neighbourhood on the subject, people generallyhighly blaming my father's conduct, thinking that he was deranged in hisintellect--a supposition very much encouraged by my uncle. She againexpressed her hopes of my speedy return. I had now been absent nearlythree years, and she had been so uncomfortable that she felt as if ithad been at least ten. O'Brien also received a letter from FatherM'Grath, which I shall lay before the reader:--
"MY DEAR SON,--Long life, and all the blessings of all the saints be upon you now and for evermore! Amen. And may you live to be married, and may I dance at your wedding, and may you never want children, and may they grow up as handsome as their father and their mother (whoever she may hereafter be), and may you die of a good old age, and in the true faith, and be waked handsomely, as your own father was last Friday s'ennight, seeing as how he took it into his head to leave this world for a better. It was a very dacent funeral-procession, my dear Terence, and your father must have been delighted to see himself so well attinded. No man ever made a more handsome corpse, considering how old, and thin, and haggard he had grown of late, and how gray his hair had turned. He held the nosegay between his fingers, across his breast as natural as life, and reminded us all of the blessed saint, Pope Gregory, who was called to glory some hundred years before either you or I was born.
"Your mother's quite comfortable; and there she sits in her ould chair, rocking to and fro all day long, and never speaking a word to nobody, thinking about heaven, I dare to say; which is just what she ought to do, seeing that she stands a very pretty chance of going there in the course of a month or so. Divil a word has she ever said since your father's departure, but then she screamed and yelled enough to last for seven years at the least. She screamed away all her senses anyhow, for she has done nothing since but cough, cough, and fumble at her pater-nosters--a very blessed way to pass the remainder of her days, seeing that I expect her to drop every minute like an over-ripe sleepy pear. So don't think any more about her, my son, for without you are back in a jiffy, her body will be laid in consecrated ground, and her happy, blessed soul in purgatory. _Pax vobiscum._ Amen! amen!
"And now having disposed of your father and your mother so much to your satisfaction, I'll just tell you that Ella's mother died in the convent at Dieppe, but whether she kept her secret or not I do not know; but this I do know, that if she didn't relieve her soul by confession, she's damned to all eternity. Thanks be to God for all his mercies. Amen! Ella Flanagan is still alive, and, for a nun, is as well as can be expected. I find that she knows nothing at all about the matter of the exchanging the genders of the babbies--only that her mother was on oath to Father M'Dermot, who ought to be hanged, drawn, and quartered instead of those poor fellows whom the government called rebels, but who were no more rebels than Father M'Grath himself, who'll uphold the Pretender, as they call our true Catholic king, as long as there's life in his body or a drop of whiskey left in ould Ireland to drink his health wid.--
"Talking about Father M'Dermot puts me in mind that the bishop has not yet decided our little bit of a dispute, saying that he must take time to think about it. Now, considering that it's just three years since the row took place, the old gentleman must be a very slow thinker not to have found out by this time that I was in the right, and that Father M'Dermot, the baste, is not good enough to be hanged.
"Your two married sisters are steady and diligent young women, having each made three children since you last saw them. Fine boys, every mother's son of them, with elegant spacious features, and famous mouths for taking in whole potatoes. By the powers, but the offsets of the tree of the O'Briens begin to make a noise in the land, anyhow, as you would say if you only heard them roaring for their bit of suppers.
"And now, my dear son Terence, the real purport of this letter, which is just to put to your soul's conscience, as a dutiful son, whether you ought not to send me a small matter of money to save your poor father's soul from pain and anguish--for it's no joke that being in purgatory, I can tell you; and you wouldn't care how soon you were tripped out of it yourself. I only wish you had but your little toe in it, and then you'd burn with impatience to have it out again. But you're a dutiful son, so I'll say no more about it--a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.
"When your mother goes, whic
h, with the blessing of God, will be in a very little while, seeing that she has only to follow her senses, which are gone already, I'll take upon myself to sell everything, as worldly goods and chattels are of no use to dead people; and I have no doubt but that, what with the furniture and the two cows, and the pigs, and the crops in the ground, there will be enough to save her soul from the flames, and bury her dacently into the bargain. However, as you are the heir-at-law, seeing that the property is all your own, I'll keep a debtor and creditor account of the whole; and should there be any over, I'll use it all out in masses, so as to send her up to heaven by express; and if there's not sufficient, she must remain where she is till you come back and make up the deficiency. In the meanwhile I am your loving father in the faith,
"URTAGH M'GRATH."