Afloat at Last

  CHAPTER TEN.

  CROSSING THE LINE.

  "Humph!" grunted Captain Gillespie, astounded by this information."That's the joker, is it?"

  "Aye, aye, sorr," said Tim Rooney, thinking he was asked the questionagain as to the other's identity; "it's him, sure enough."

  "Then I should like to know what the dickens he means by such conduct asthis? The beggar first comes aboard my ship without my leave orlicense, and then tries to break his neck by going aloft when nobodysent him there!"

  "Arrah sure, sorr, the poor chap ownly did it to show his willin'ness toworruk his passige, sayin' as how Mr Mackay tould him ye'd blow him upfor comin' aboard whin he came-to this arternoon, sorr," pleaded Tim,not perceiving, as I did, that all the captain's anger against theunfortunate stowaway had melted away by this time on learning that hehad shown such courage. "Begorra, he would cloimb up the shrouds, sorr,whin ye tould the hands to lay aloft; an' the divil himsilf, sorr,wouldn't 'a stopped him."

  "He's a plucky fellow," cried the captain in a much more amiable tone ofvoice, to Tim's great surprise.

  "Send him aft, bosun, and I'll talk to him now instead of to-morrow, asI said."

  "Aye, aye, sorr," replied Tim; and, presently, the stowaway, who lookednone the worse for his fall, came shambling sheepishly up the poopladder, Tim following in his wake, and saying as he ushered him into thecaptain's presence, "Here he is, sorr."

  "Well, you rascal," exclaimed Captain Gillespie, looking at him up anddown with his squinting eyes and sniffing, taking as good stock of himas the faint light would permit, "what have you got to say foryourself--eh?"

  "Oi dunno," answered the ragged lad, touching his forelock and making ascrape back with his foot, in deferential salute. "Of's got nowt tersay, only as Oi'll wark me pessage if you'll let me be, and dunno put mein that theer dark pit agin."

  "Do you know you're liable to three months imprisonment with hard labourfor stowing yourself aboard my ship?" replied Captain Gillespie, payingno attention to his words apparently, and going on as if he had notspoken. "What will you do if I let you off?"

  "Oi'll wark, measter," cried the other eagerly. "Oi'll wark loike agood un, Oi will, sure, if you lets Oi be."

  "Ha, humph! I'll give you a try, then," jerked out Old Jock with asnort, after another nautical inspection of the new hand; "only, mindyou don't go tumbling off the yard again. I don't want any accidents onboard my ship, although I expect every man to do his duty; and when Isay a thing I mean a thing. What's your name--eh?"

  "Oi be called Joe Fergusson, measter," replied the shock-headed fellow,moving rather uneasily about and shuffling his feet on the deck, thecaptain's keen quizzical glance making him feel a bit nervous. "Mymates at whoam, though, names me, and the folk in Lancacheer tew, `Joeythe moucher.'"

  "Oh, then, Master Joey, you'll find you can't mooch here, my lad,"retorted Old Jock, glad of the opportunity of having one of his personaljokes, and sniggering and snorting over it in fine glee. "However, I'llforgive you coming aboard on the promise of your working your passage toChina; but, you won't find that child's play, my joker! Fergusson, I'llenter you on the ship's books and you'll be rated as an able seaman, foryou look as if you had the makings of one in you from the way you'vetried already to earn your keep."

  "Thank ye koindly, measter," stammered out the redoubtable Joe, seeingfrom the captain's manner that his peace was made, and that nothingdreadful was going to be done to him, as he had feared from all that TimRooney and the hands forward had told him of Old Jock's temper--althoughhe did not understand half what the captain said--"Oi'll wark, measter."

  "There, that will do," said Captain Gillespie interrupting him ere hecould proceed any further with his protestations of gratitude; "theproof of the pudding lies in the eating, and I'll soon see what you'remade of. Bosun, take him forrud and rig him out as well as you can.I'll send you an old shirt and trousers by the steward."

  "Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim obediently, pleased at "the ould skipperbehavin' so handsomely," as he afterwards said; "an' I'll give him anould pair av brogues av me own."

  "You can do as you like about that," said Captain Gillespie, turning onhis heel and calling the watch to tauten the lee-braces a bit, tellingthe men at the wheel at the same time to "luff" more; "but, you'd betterlet the chap have a good lie-in to-night and put him in the port watchto-morrow so that Mr Mackay can look after him."

  "Aye, aye, sorr," replied Tim, leading his charge down the poop ladderagain. "I'll say to that same, sorr."

  "And, bosun--"

  "Aye, aye, sorr."

  "Just see if those pigs in the long-boat got damaged by that fellowtumbling on top of them. His weight ought to have been enough to havemade pork of some, I should think!"

  "Aye, aye, sorr," said Tim as he went off laughing; and I could hear hiswhispered aside to Adams, who was standing by the deck-house. "Begorra,I'd have betted the ould skipper wouldn't forgit thim blissid pigs avhis. He wor thinkin' av thim all the toime that poor beggar wor fallin'from aloft, I belave!"

  Much to the captain's satisfaction, though, the grunting inhabitants ofthe long-boat were found to be all right, escaping as harmlessly as JoeFergusson; and so, with his mind relieved Old Jock went below soon after"six bells," or two o'clock, leaving the charge of the deck to MrSaunders--who, grumbling at the captain's rather insidious usurpation ofhis authority, had betaken himself to the lee-side of the taffrail,whence he watched the ship's wake and the foaming rollers that cametumbling after her, as she drove on before the stiff nor'-wester underreefed topsails and courses, the waves trying to poop her every instant,though foiled by her speed.

  So things went on till midnight, when the men at the wheel wererelieved, as well as the look-out forward, and the port watch came ondeck; while, the starbowlines going below, Mr Mackay took the place ofthe second mate as the officer on duty. Tom Jerrold, too, lugged outSam Weeks and made him put in an appearance, much against his will; butnothing subsequently occurred to vary the monotony of the life on boardor interfere with the vessel's progress, for, although it was blowingpretty nearly "half a gale," as sailors say, we "made a fair wind ofit"--keeping steadily on our course, south-west by west, and gettingmore and more out into the Atlantic with each mile of the seething waterthe Silver Queen spurned with her forefoot and left eddying behind her.

  The wind, somehow or other, seemed to get into my head, like a glass ofchampagne I had on Christmas-day when father and all of us went toWestham Hall and dined with the squire. I can't express how jolly itmade me feel--the wind I mean, not the champagne; for it was as much asI could do to refrain from shouting out aloud in my exultation, as itblew in my face and tossed my hair about, pressing against my body withsuch force that I had to hold on by both hands to the weather bulwarksto keep my feet, as I gazed out over the side at the magnificent scenearound me--the storm-tossed sea, one mass of foam; the grand blue vaultof heaven above, now partially lit by the late rising moon and twinklingstars, that were occasionally obscured by scraps of drifting clouds andflying scud; and, all the while, the noble ship tearing along, a thingof beauty and of life, mastering the elements and glorying in the fight,with the hum of the gale in the sails and its shrieking whistle throughthe rigging, and the ever-murmuring voices of the waters, all fillingthe air around as they sang the dirge of the deep!

  "You seem to like it, youngster," observed Mr Mackay, stopping hisquarter-deck walk as he caught sight of my face in the moonlight andnoticed it's joyous glow, reflecting the emotions of my mind. "You looka regular stormy petrel, and seem as if you wanted to spread your wingsand fly."

  "I only wish I could, sir," I cried, laughing at his likening me to a"Mother Carey's chicken," as the petrel is familiarly termed, a numberof them then hovering about the ship astern. "I feel half a birdalready, the wind makes me so jolly."

  Mr Mackay quietly smiled and put his hand on my shoulder.

  "Take care, my boy," said he good-humouredly, "you'll be jumpingoverboard in
your enthusiasm. You seem to be a born sailor. Are youreally so fond of the sea?"

  "I love it! I love it!" I exclaimed enthusiastically. "Now, I canimagine, sir, the meaning of what I read in Xenophon with father, aboutthe soldiers of Cyrus crying with joy when they once more beheld the seaafter their toilsome march for months and months, wandering inland overa strange and unknown country without a sight of its familiar face totell them of their home by the wave-girt shores of Greece!"

  "You're quite a poet, Graham," observed Mr Mackay, laughing now, thoughnot unkindly. There was, indeed, a tone of regret and of sadness, itseemed to me, in his voice. "Ah, well, you'll soon have all suchromantic notions taken out of you, my boy, when you've seen some of thehardships of a sailor's life, like others who at one time were, perhaps,as full of ardour for their profession at the start as yourself."

  "I hope not, sir," I replied seriously. "I should never like to believedifferently of it to what I do now. I think it is really something tobe proud of, being a sailor. It is glorious, it--it--it's--jolly,that's what it is, sir!"

  "A jolly sight jollier being in bed on a cold night like this," mutteredWeeks, who was shivering by the skylight, the tarpaulin cover of whichhe had dragged round his legs for warmth. "Don't you think so, sir?"

  "That depends," replied Mr Mackay on Sammy putting this question to himrather impudently, as was his wont in speaking to his elders, his bumpof veneration being of the most infinitesimal proportions. "I think,though, that a fellow who likes being on deck in a gale of wind willturn out a better sailor than a skulker who only cares about caulking inhis bunk below; and you can put that in your pipe, Master Sam Weeks, andsmoke it!"

  This had the effect of stopping any further conversation on the part ofmy fellow apprentice, who retired to the lee-side of the deck in highdudgeon with this "flea in his ear;" and, it being just four o'clock inthe morning now and the end of the middle watch, eight bells were struckand the starbowlines summoned on deck again to duty, we of the portwatch getting some hot coffee all round at the galley and then turningin. For this I was not sorry, as I began now to feel sleepy.

  "I'd rather be a dog with the mange than a sailor," yawned Tom Jerroldwhen Sam Weeks roused him out of his nice warm bunk to go on duty in thecold grey morning. "Heigh-ho, it's an awful life!"

  So, it can be seen that all of us were not of one opinion in the matter.

  But, in spite of sundry drawbacks and disagreeables which I subsequentlyencountered, and which perhaps took off a little of the halo of romancewhich at first encircled everything connected with the sea in my mind, Ihave never lost the love and admiration for it which I experienced thatnight in mid Atlantic when I kept the middle watch with Mr Mackay, norregretted my choice; neither have I ever felt inclined, I may candidlystate, to give an affirmative answer to Tim Rooney's stereotyped inquiryevery morning-- "An' ain't ye sorry now, Misther Gray-ham, as how yeiver came to say?"

  The next day, our third out from the Lizard, we spoke the barque MaryWebster from Valparaiso for London, sixty days at sea.

  She signalled that she had broken her chronometer and had to trust onlyto her dead reckoning, so Captain Gillespie hove-to and gave them ourlatitude and longitude, 45 degrees 15 minutes North and 10 degrees 20minutes West, displaying the figures chalked on a black-board over ourquarter, in order that those on board the other vessel might read theinscription easily with a glass, as we bowed and dipped towards eachother across the rolling waves, both with our main-topsails backed.

  Before the following morning we had weathered Cape Finisterre, MrMackay told me, having got finally beyond the limits of the dread Bay ofBiscay, with all its opposing tides and contrary influences of winds andcurrents which make it such a terror to navigators passing both to andfrom the Equator; and, in another two days, we had reached as far southas the fortieth parallel of latitude, our longitude being now 13 degrees10 minutes west, or about some five hundred miles to the eastward of theAzores, or Western Islands.

  As we worked our way further westwards I noticed a curious thing which Icould not make out until Mr Mackay enlightened me on the subject.

  On my last birthday father had given me a very nice little gold watch,similar to one which he had presented to my brother Tom, much to my envyat the time, on his likewise obtaining his fifteenth year.

  This watch was a very good timekeeper, being by one of the best Londonmakers; and, hitherto, had maintained an irreproachable character inthis respect, the cook at home, whenever the kitchen clock went wrong,always appealing to me to know what was the correct time, with theflattering compliment that "Master Allan's watch, at all events," was"sure to be right!"

  But now, strange to say, although my watch kept exactly to railway timeup to the day of my arrival in London and while we were on our way downthe river, I found that, as we proceeded into the Channel and out to seait began to gain, the difference being more and more marked as we gotfurther to the westward; until, when the captain, after taking the sunon our fifth day out, told Tom Jerrold who was on the deck beside him to"make it eight bells," or strike the ship's bell to declare it was noon,I was very nearly an hour ahead of that time--my watch, which I wasalways careful about winding up every evening as father enjoined me whengiving it to me, pointing actually to one o'clock!

  I could not understand it all.

  Mr Mackay, however, made it clear to me after a little explanation,showing me, too, how simple a matter it was with a good chronometer tofind a ship's position at sea.

  "For every degree of longitude we go westwards from the meridian ofGreenwich, which is marked with a great round 0 here, you see, my boy,we gain four minutes," said he, pointing out the lines of longituderuled straight up and down the chart as he spoke, for my information;"and thus, the fact of the hands of your watch telling, truly enough,that it is now about eight minutes to one o'clock in London, shows thatwe are thirteen degrees further to the west than at the place where yourtime is set--for we are going with the sun, do you see?"

  "Yes, I see, sir," said I; "but suppose we were going to the eastinstead of the west?"

  "Why then, my boy," he replied, "your watch, in lieu of gaining, wouldappear to lose the same number of minutes each day, according to ourrate of sailing. A ship, consequently, which goes round the world fromthe east to the west will seem to have gained a clear day oncircumnavigating the globe; while one that completes the same voyagesailing from the west continually towards the east, loses one."

  "How funny!" cried I. "Is it really so?"

  "Yes, really," said he; "and I've seen, on board a ship I was once in,the captain skip a day in the log, to make up for the one we lost on thevoyage, passing over Saturday and writing down the day which followedFriday as `Sunday'--otherwise we would have been all out of ourreckoning with the almanac."

  "How funny!" I repeated. "I never heard that before."

  "Probably not, nor many other things you'll learn at sea, my boy, beforeyou're much older," answered Mr Mackay, as he turned to the log slateon which Captain Gillespie had been putting down his calculation aboutthe ship's position after taking the sun and working out his reckoning."Let us see, now, if your watch is a good chronometer for telling ourlongitude. Ha, by Jove, 13 degrees 10 minutes west, or, nearly what wemade out just now. Not so bad, Graham, for a turnip!"

  "Turnip, sir!" cried I indignantly. "Father told me it was one ofDent's best make, and to be careful of it."

  "I'm sure I beg both your father's and Dent's pardon," said Mr Mackay,laughing at my firing up so quickly. "I was only joking; for your watchis a very good one, and nicely finished too. But I must not stop anymore now. I hope you won't forget your first lesson in navigation andthe knowledge you've gained of the difference between `mean time' andwhat is called `apparent time' on board a ship, and how this will tellher correct longitude--eh?"

  "Oh, no, sir," I answered as he went off down the companion way below,to wind up the chronometers in the captain's cabin, a task which healways performed every day
at the same hour, having these valuableinstruments under his especial charge; "I won't forget what you've toldme, sir."

  Nor did I.

  Shortly afterwards Mr Mackay showed me how to use the sextant and takethe sun's altitude, on his learning that I was acquainted withtrigonometry and rather a dab at mathematics, the only portion indeed ofmy studies, I'm sorry to confess, in which I ever took any interest atschool. I was thus soon able under his instruction to work out theship's reckoning and calculate her position, just like the captain, whosniffed and snorted a bit and crinkled his nose a good deal on seeing meengaged on the task; although he gave me some friendly commendation allthe same, when he found that I had succeeded in actually arriving at asimilar result to himself!

  Wasn't I proud, that's all.

  But, before advancing so far in my knowledge of navigation, I had to beinitiated into my regular duties on board, and learn the more practicalparts of seamanship; however, having willing tutors in Mr Mackay andthe boatswain, and being only too anxious myself to know all they couldteach me, it was not long before I was able to put it out of the powerof either Tom Jerrold or Weeks to call me "Master Jimmy Green," as theyat first christened me--just because they had the advantage of going tosea a voyage or two before me! I may add, too, that my progress towardsproficiency in picking up the endless details of nautical lore was allthe more accelerated by the desire of excelling my shipmates, so as tohave the chance of turning their chaff back upon themselves.

  Spurred on by this motive, I quickly learnt all the names of the ropesand their various uses from Mr Mackay; while Tim Rooney showed me howto make a "reef knot," a "clove hitch," a "running bowline," and a"sheep-shank," explaining the difference between these and theirrespective advantages over the common "granny's knot" of landsmen--myfriend the boatswain judiciously discriminating between the typicalpeculiarities of the "cat's-paw" and the "sheet bend," albeit the onehas nothing in connection with the feline tribe and the other noreference to one's bed-covering!

  The wind moderated when we got below the Azores, while the sea alsoceased its tumultuous whirl, so that we were able to make all plain sailand carry-on without rolling as before; so, now, at last, I was allowedto go aloft, my first essay being to assist Tom Jerrold in setting themizzen-royal. Really, I quite astonished Tom by climbing up the futtockshrouds outside the top, instead of going through "the lubber's hole,"showing myself, thanks to Tim Rooney's private instructions previously,much more nimble in casting off the gaskets and loosening the bunt ofthe sail than my brother mid expected; indeed, I got off the yard, afterthe job was done, and down to the deck a good half minute in advance ofhim.

  On our sixth day out, we reached latitude 35 degrees north and 17degrees west, drifting past Madeira a couple of days later, thetemperature of the air gradually rising and the western winds growingcorrespondingly slack as we made more southing; until, although it wasbarely a week since we had been experiencing the bitter weather of ourEnglish February, we now seemed to be suddenly transported into thebalminess of June. The change, however, took place so imperceptiblyduring our gradual progress onward to warmer latitudes, that, in lookingback all at once, it seemed almost incredible.

  I found the work which we apprentices had to do was really very similarto that of the hands forward, Tom Jerrold and I in the port watch, andWeeks and Matthews--who, although styled "third mate," had still to goaloft and do the same sort of duties as all the rest of us--in thestarboard watch under the second mate, having to attend to everythingconnected with the setting and taking in of sail on the mizzen-mast, aswell as having to keep the ship's time, one of us striking the bellevery half-hour throughout our spell on deck.

  After the first few days at sea, too, I came to the conclusion that ifour work was like that of the sailors our food was not one whit thebetter; albeit, one of the stipulations in the contract when my fatherpaid the premium demanded by the owners of the ship for me as a "first-class apprentice," was that I should mess aft in the cabin.

  I certainly did so, like Tom Jerrold and the two others; but all thateither they or I had of cabin fare throughout the entire voyage was anoccasional piece of "plum duff" and jam on Sundays--on which day, by theway, we had no work to do save attending to the sails and washing decksin the morning; while, in the afternoon, Captain Gillespie read prayerson the poop, his congregation being mainly limited to ourselves and thewatch on deck, the crew spending their holiday, on this holy day, inmending their clothes in the forecastle.

  Yes, our rations were the same as those of the ordinary hands; namely,salt junk and "hard tack," varied by pea-soup and sea-pie occasionallyfor dinner, with rice and molasses as a treat on Saturdays. Ourbreakfast and tea consisted of a straw-coloured decoction known onboard-ship as "water bewitched," accompanied by such modicums of ourdinner allowance as we were able to save conscientiously with ourappetites. This amounted to very little as a rule, for, being at seamakes one fearfully hungry at all hours, and, fortunately, seems toendow one, also, with the capacity for eating anything!

  Really, if it had not been by currying favour with Ching Wang andbribing the steward, Pedro Carvalho, between whom there were continualrows occurring about the provisions, which it was the duty of thePortuguese to serve out, we must have starved ere reaching the Equator;for Captain Gillespie, in order to "turn an honest penny" and make hisDundee venture prove a success, persuaded the men forward and ourselvesto give up a pound and a quarter of our meat ration for a pound tin ofhis marmalade, which he assured us would not only be more palatable withour biscuit, being such "a splendid substitute for butter," as theadvertisements on the labels say, but would also act as an antiscorbuticto prevent the spread of scurvy amongst us--it being, as he declared,better than lime-juice for this purpose!

  The hands consented to this arrangement at first as a welcome change;but, when they presently found themselves mulcted of their salt junk,they grumbled much at Old Jock for holding us all to the bargain, and heand his marmalade became a by-word in the ship. I did not wonder atall, after a bit, that Pedro the steward got into the habit of ventinghis wrath when vexed by kicking the empty tins about!

  I cannot say, however, that I disliked my new life, in spite of thesedrawbacks in the way of insufficiency of food and constancy of appetite,throughout which Ching Wang remained my staunch friend, bringing me manya savoury little delicacy for supper when it was my night watch on deck.These tit-bits in the "grub" line I conscientiously shared with TomJerrold, who received similar favours from the steward, with whom he wasa firm favourite, the only one, indeed, to whom the Portuguese appearedto take kindly on board.

  No, on the contrary, the charm of being a sailor grew more and more uponme each day as the marvels of the deep became unfolded to me, and thebetter I became acquainted with the ship and my companions.

  All was endless variety--the sky, the sea, and our surroundings changingapparently every moment and ever revealing something fresh and novel.

  It did not seem real but a dream.

  Could that be the Madeira I had read about in the distance, and that theBay of Funchal of which I had seen pictures in books; and that thelittle nautilus or "Portuguese man-of-war" floating by the side of thevessel, now almost becalmed, with its cigar-shaped shell boat and pinkmembraneous sail all glowing with prismatic colouring? Was it anactuality that I saw all these things with my own eyes; or, was Idreaming? Was it really I, Allan Graham, standing there on the deck ofthe good ship Silver Queen, or somebody else?

  An order from the captain, who came up from his cabin just then andcaught me mooning, to go forward and "make it eight bells," stopped myreflections at this interesting point; and the next moment I was moreinterested in a most appetising odour of lobscouse emanating from ChingWang's galley than in poetical dreams of Atlantic isles and oceanwonders!

  On passing Madeira, we soon got out of the Horse Latitudes, a softbreeze springing up from the west again towards evening, which wafted usdown to the Canaries within the next two days. Here we pic
ked up thenorth-east trades south of Palma, just when we could barely discern thePeak of Teneriffe far-away off high up in the clouds, and then we wenton grandly on our voyage once more with every sail set, logging over twohundred miles a day and going by the Cape de Verde Islands in finestyle. We did not bring up again until we reached "the Doldrums," inabout latitude 5 degrees north and 22 degrees west, where the ficklewind deserted us again and left us rolling and sweltering in the greatregion of equatorial calm. The north-east and south-east trades herefight each other for the possession of their eventful battle-ground, theLine, and old Neptune finds the contest so wearisome that he goes tosleep while it lasts, the tumid swelling of his mighty bosom onlyshowing to all whom it may concern that he merely dozes and is not dead!

  The temperature of the sea seemed to increase each day after we lostsight of the Peak of Teneriffe until it was now lukewarm, if one drew abucket from over the side; although Captain Gillespie said it was "quitecold" for that time of year!

  Talking about this, Mr Mackay told me that sea-water is composed of anawful lot of things such as I would not have supposed--oxygen andhydrogen, with muriate of soda, magnesia, iron, lime, copper, silica,potash, chlorine, iodine, bromide, ammonia and silver being amongst itsingredients, and the muriate of soda forming the largest of the solidsubstances detected in it. With such a mixture of things as this, it isnot surprising that it should taste so nasty when swallowed--is it?

  With the enforced leisure produced by the calm, I had plenty ofopportunity for observing the various strange varieties of animal lifewhich came about the ship--the flying-fish with beautiful silvery wingsthat sparkled in the sunlight coming inboard in shoals, pursued by theirenemies the albacores, who drove them out of the sea to take refuge inthe air; besides numbers of grampusses and sharks swimming round us.Adams, the sailmaker, killed one of these latter gentry with a harpoon,spearing him from the bowsprit as he came past the ship. He looked upwith his evil eye, fancying perhaps that he would "catch one of usnapping," but no one was unwary enough to get within reach of hisvoracious maw; and Mr Shark "caught a tartar" instead and got a tasteof cold steel for his pains, much to our delight, though the captain waschagrined at the loss of the harpoon, the shark parting the lineattached to it in his death struggles, and carrying it below with himwhen he sank. The brute, to end the story, was eaten up at once by hisaffectionate comrades, the sea being dyed red with his blood.

  We had not all leisure, though, thus hanging about the Equator under thescorching sun, now at noon precisely perpendicular over our heads, theheat at night too being almost as stifling and the stars as bright asmoons; for Captain Gillespie took advantage of our inaction to "set up"the rigging, which had slackened considerably since we entered thetropics, the heat making the ropes stretch so that our masts got looseand the upper spars canted.

  While doing this, of course, I had another practical lesson inseamanship, learning all about "double luffs" and "toggles," "salvageestrops" and "Burton tackles," and all the rest of such gear, whose nameis legion.

  But I must go on now to a more important incident.

  One morning, about a week after the wind left us, with the exception ofan occasional cat's-paw of air which came from every point of thecompass in turn, we ultimately drifted to the Line; accomplishing thisby the aid of the swell ever rolling southward and the eddy of the greatsouth equatorial current, setting between the African continent and theCaribbean Sea. This meets the Guinea current running in the oppositedirection in the middle of the Doldrums, and helps to promote thepleasant stagnation, of wind and water and of air alike, of thisdelightful region so dear to mariners!

  I recollect the morning well; for the night was unusually oppressive,the heat between the middle watch and eight bells having been moreintense than at any period, I thought, during the week.

  So, after tossing about my bunk, unable to get to sleep I was only tooglad when the time came to turn out for duty, the task of washing decksand paddling about in the cool water--for it was cool at the earlierhours of the morning if tepid at noon--being something to look forwardto.

  I forgot, however, all about the terrible rites of Neptune for thosecrossing the Line for the first time, and neither Tom Jerrold nor Weeks,naturally, enlightened me on the subject; so that I was completely takenby surprise when a loud voice hailed us from somewhere forward, justabout "four bells," as if coming from out of the sea.

  "What ship is that?"

  "The Silver Queen," answered Mr Saunders, who was on the poop and ofcourse in the joke, answering the voice, which although portentouslyloud, had a familiar ring about it suspiciously like Tim Rooney's Irishbrogue. "Bound from London to Shanghai."

  "Have ye minny of me unshaved sons aboard?"

  "Aye, two," shouted back Mr Saunders, "a stowaway and an apprentice."

  "Ye spake true," returned the voice. "I knows 'em both, Misther AllanGray-ham an' Joe Fergusson. I will come aboard an' shave 'em."

  Then it all flashed upon me, and I tried to run below and hide; but twoof Neptune's tritons seized me and pushed me forward to where theboatswain, capitally got up in an oakum wig with an enormous tow beard,was seated on the windlass, trident in hand. Joe Fergusson, who hadbeen made prisoner before me, lay bound at his feet, close to animprovised swimming bath made out of a spare fore-topsail, rigged upacross the deck on the lee-side and filled with water to the depth offour feet or more.

  The ceremonies were just about to begin; and, I could readily imaginewhat was in store for both me and my companion in distress, the ex-bricklayer, who, like myself, having never been to sea before would haveto go through the painful ordeal as well as being made fools of andlaughed at by all our grinning shipmates around; so, seeing Tom Jerroldand Sam Weeks conspicuous right in front of me, and Mr Saunders lookingon too with much gusto, I made another desperate attempt to free myselffrom those holding me, urging on Joe Fergusson to try and save himselfand me too.

  Our struggles were in vain; but, strange to say, help came for us from amost unexpected quarter.

  As I have said before, the night had been extremely hot and the morninglowering; and now, all at once, a violent squall caught the ship in themidst of Neptune's carnival.

  "Stand by your royal halliards!" roared out Captain Gillespie, whocoming up quickly behind Mr Saunders on the poop made him jump round inconsternation at his neglect in not keeping a look-out overhead whilewatching the game going on in the bows amongst the crew.

  Neptune darted down from his perch instanter in the most ungodlikefashion; and, the rest of the men rushing to their stations, left JoeFergusson and I rolling on the deck.

  "Let go!" next cried the captain; adding a moment later, "Bosun, goforward and slack off the head sheets!"

  And then the rain came down in a perfect deluge, as if it were beingemptied out of a tub, and as it only can pour down in the tropics; andthat is how we "crossed the Line!"