The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant

  CHAPTER IV

  The evening after that on which the commander of the _Gloucester_Indiaman introduced his adventures, nearly the same party met on thepoop to hear them continued.

  "Well then," began Captain Collins, leaning back against a stanchion ofthe quarter-rail, with folded arms, legs crossed, and his eyes fixed onthe weather-leech of the mizzen-topsail to collect his thoughts; "wellthen, try to fancy the _Seringapatam_ in chase of the _Gloucester_; andif I _do_ use a few extra seaterms, I consider the ladies good enoughsailors for them already. At any rate, just throw a glance aloft now andthen, and our good old lady will explain herself; to her own sex, sheought to be as good as a dictionary, with signs for the hard words!

  "The second day out we had the wind more from seaward, which broke upthe haze into bales of cloud, and away they went rolling in for the Bayof Biscay; with a longer wave and darker water, and the big old Indiamansurged over it as easily as might be, the blue breeze gushing right intoher main-tack through the heave of the following seas, and the tail ofthe trade-wind flying high above her trucks in shreds and patches.Things got more ship-shape on deck; anchor-flukes brought in-board onthe head-rail, and cables stowed away--the very best sign you can haveof being clear of the land. The first officer, as they called him, was agood-looking fellow, that thought no small-beer of himself, with hisglossy blue jacket and Company's buttons, white trousers, and a goldthread round his cap; he had it stuck askew to show how his hair wasbrushed; and changed his boots every time he came on deck. Still helooked like a sailor, if but for the East-India brown on his face, andthere was no mistake about his knowing how to set a sail, trim yards, orput the ship about; so that the stiff old skipper left a great deal tohim, besides trusting him for a first-rate navigator that had learnedhead-work at a naval school. The crew were to be seen all musteringbefore tea-time in the dog-watch, with their feet just seen under thefoot mat of the fore-course, like actors behind a playhouse curtain--menthat I warrant you had seen every country under heaven amongst them--asprivate as possible, and ready to enjoy their pots of tea upon theforecastle, as well as their talk.

  "However, all this was nothing to me, as I saw no sign of the passengersI had counted on. I could do little for poor Westwood but leave him tomope below, over his own thoughts.

  "If the Indian judge really chanced to be on board after all, heevidently fought shy of company, and perhaps meant to have his ownmess-table under the poop as long as the voyage lasted; scarcely any ofthe ladies had apparently got their sea-qualms over yet, and, for all Iknew, _she_ might not be with him, even if he were there; or, if shewere, her father seemed quite Turk enough to keep her boxed up withjalousie-blinds, Calcutta fashion, and give her a walk in the middlewatch, with the poop tabooed till morning. The jolly, red-facedindigo-planter was the only one that tried to get up anything likespirit at the table; indeed, he would have scraped acquaintance withme, if I had been in a mood for it; all I did was to say 'Yes' and 'No,'and to take wine with him. 'Poor fellow!' said he, turning to three orfour of the cadets, that stuck by him like pilot-fish to an old shark,'he's thinking of his mother at home, I daresay.' The fools thought thiswas meant for a joke, and began to laugh. 'Why, you unfledged griffinsyou,' said the planter, 'what d'ye see to nicker at, like so manyjackals in a trap? D'ye suppose one thinks the less of a man for havinga heart to be sick in, as well as a stomach--eh?' 'Oh, don't speak ofit, Mr Rollock!' said one. 'Come, come, old boy,' said another, with awhite moustache on his lip, ''twon't do for you to go the sentimental,you know.' 'Capsize my main-spanker, 'tis too funny, though,' put in afellow who wore a glazed hat on deck, and put down all the ropes withnumbers on paper, as soon as he had done being sick. The planter leantback in his chair, looked at them coolly, and burst out a-laughing.'Catch me ever "going home" again,' said he. 'Of all the absurdoccasions for impudence with the egg-shell on its head coming out, hangme if these fifteen thousand miles of infernal sea-water ain't theworst. India for ever!--that's the place to _try_ a man. He's eithersobered or gets room to work there; and just wait, my fine fellows, tillI see _you_ on the Custom-house _Bunda_ at Bombay, or setting off upcountry--you're all of you the very food for _sircars_ and _coolies_.That quiet lad there, now, soft as he looks'--meaning me--'I can tell byhis eye he won't be long a griff--he'll do something. I tell you what,as soon as he's tasted his first mango-fish, he'll _understand_ thecountry. Why, sir,' said he again, smacking his lips, ''tis worth thevoyage of itself--you begin a new existence so to speak. I'll be boundall this lot o' water don't contain one single mango-fish. Remember,boys, I promised you all a regular blow-out of mango-fish, and_florican_ with bread-sauce, whenever you can get across to ChuckbullyFactory.' 'Blow, good breeze, then; blow away the main jib!' said thenautical young gentleman; 'I'll join you, old fellow!' 'Not the best wayto bring it about, though,' said the indigo-planter, good-naturedly, notknowing but there _was_ such a sail on the ship.

  "The yellow setting sun was striking over the starboard quarter-boat,and the Bay of Biscay lay broad down to leeward for a view--a couple oflarge craft, with all studding-sails set before the wind, making forland, far enough off to bring their canvas in a piece, and begin to lookblue with the air--one like a milk-woman with pitchers and a hoop; theother like a girl carrying a big bucketful of water, and leaning theopposite way to steady herself. There was one far to north-east, too, nomore than a white speck in the grey sky; and the land-cloud went up overit into so many sea-lions' heads, all looking out of their manes. Thechildren clapped their hands and laughed; and the ladies talked aboutthe vessels, and thought they saw land--Spain or the Pyrenees, perhaps.However, it wasn't long before my American friend Snout caught sight ofme in the midst of his meditations, as he turned bolt round on his toesto hurry aft again. 'The fact is, mister,' said he, '_I'm_ riled alittle at _the_ tarnation pride of you Britishers. There now,' said he,pointing at the blaze of the sun to westward, with his chin, 'there's_a_ consolation. I calculate the sun's just over Noo-York, which Iexpect to give you old country folks considerable pain.'

  "'No doubt,' said I, with a sigh; 'one can't help thinking of a bankerrun off with ever so much English gold.' 'You're a sensible chap, youare. It's _a_ right-down asylum _for_ oppressed Eur_o_pains--that can'tbe denied.' 'And Africans, too,' I put in. 'Indy, now,' said he; 'Ireckon there's a sight of dollars made in that country--you don't s'poseI'm goin' out there for _nothing_? We'll just take it out o' your handsyet, mister. I don't ought to let you into the schim till I know youbetter, you see; but I expect to want a sort o' company got up before weland. There's one of your nabobs now came into the ship at Possmouth,with a whole tail of niggurs dressed up----' 'And a lady with him, Ithink?' said I, as coolly as I could. 'I'll somehow open on that chapabout British tyranny, I guess, after gettin' a little knowledge out ofhim. We'd just _rise_ the niggurs, if they had _not_ such a right-downcur'ous _my_thullogy--but I tell you now, mister, that's one of the veryp'ints I expect to meet. Miss'naries won't do it so slick off in twothousand years, I kinder think, as this identical specoolation will in_ten_--besides payin' like Peruvain mines, which the miss'nary linedon't. I'm a regoolar down-easter, ye see--kinder piercin' into asubject, like our nation in gin'ral--and the whull schim hangs togethera little, I calculate, mister?' 'So I should think, Mr Snout, indeed,' Isaid. Here the American gave another chuckle, and turned to again on hiswalk, double quick, till you'd have thought the whole length of the poopshook, when who should I see with the tail of my eye but my friend the_kitmagar_ salaaming to Mr Snout by the break of the quarter-deck. TheYankee seemed rather taken aback at first, and didn't know what to makeof him. 'S'laam sah'b,' said the dark servant with an impudent look, andloud enough for me to hear, as I stepped from aft. 'Judge sahib i-sendgenteeman salaam--say too much hivvy boot he get--all same as_illimphant_. S'pose master not so much loud walk _this_ side?''_Well!_' broke out the American, looking at the Bengalee's flat turbanand moustache, as if he were too great a curiosity to be angry with,then turning on his heel to proceed with his
walk. 'Now, mister,' saidhe to me, 'that's what I call an incalculable imp_u_dent black; but he'sthe first I ever saw with hair on his lip, it's a fact.' 'Master not_mind_?' said the _kitmagar_, raising his key next time Mr Snout wheeledround. 'Judge sahib burra burra buhadoorkea!--ver' great man!' 'Lowniggur!' said Mr Snout, tramping away aft; 'there's your Britishregoolations, I say, young man--niggurs baaing on the quarter-deck, andfree-born citizens put off it!' '_Bhote khoob_, mistree!' squeaked outthe native again; 'burra judge sahib not to i-sleep apter he dine, eh?Veri well; I tell the sahib, passiger mistree moor stamp-i-stamp all themoor I can say!' So off he went to report in the poop-cabin. A littleafter up shot a head wrapped in a yellow bandana, just on the level ofthe poop-deck, looking through the breast-rail; and the next thing I sawwas the great East-Indian himself, with a broad-flapped Manilla hat overhis topgear, and a red-flowered dressing-gown, standing beside thebinnacle with Captain Williamson. 'What the deuce, Captain Williamson,'said the judge, with an angry glance up to the poop,' cannot I close myeyelids after dinner for one instant--in my own private apartments,sir--for his hideous noise? Who the deuce _is_ that person there--eh,eh?' 'He's an American gentleman, I believe, Sir Charles,' replied thecaptain. '_Believe_, sir,' said the judge; 'you ought to _know_ everyindividual, I think, Captain Williamson, whom you admitted into thisvessel. I expressly stipulated for quiet, sir--I understood that nosuspicious or exceptionable persons should travel in the same conveyancewith _my_ suwarry. I'd have taken the whole ship, sir!' 'I've no more todo than tell him the regulations aboard, Sir Charles,' said the captain,'and the annoyance will cease.' '_Tell_ him, indeed!' said the judge, alittle more good-humouredly. 'Why, captain, the man looks like asea-pirate. You should have taken only such raw griffins as that younglad on the other side. Ho, _kitmagar_!' '_Maharaj?_' said the footman,bowing down to the deck. '_Slippers lao!_' '_Jee khodabund_,' answeredthe native, and immediately after he reappeared from the round-housedoor, with a pair of turned-up yellow slippers. 'Take them up with mysalaam to that gentleman there,' said Sir Charles, in Hindoostanee, 'andask him to use them.' 'Hullo!' sung out Mr Snout, on being hove-to bythe _kitmagar_, with one hand on his breast, and the other holding theslippers, 'this won't do! You'd better not _rile_ me again, you cussedniggur you. Out o' my way!' There they went at it along the pooptogether, Mr Snout striding right forward with his long legs, and the_kitmagar_ hopping backward out of his way, as he tried to make himselfunderstood; till, all at once, the poor darkey lost his balance at theladderhead, and over he went with a smash fit to have broken his neck,if the captain's broad back hadn't fortunately been there to receive it.The rage of Sir Charles at this was quite beyond joking; nothing elsewould satisfy him but the unlucky Yankee's being shoved off the poop bymain force, and taken below--the one stamping and roaring like an oldbuffalo, and the other testifying against all 'aristocratycalt_y_ranny.'

  "At eight bells again I found it a fine, breezy night, the two uppermates walking the weather quarter-deck in blue-water style, six stepsand a look to windward, then a wheel round, and, now and then, a glanceinto the binnacle. I went aft and leant over the _Seringapatam's_ leequarter, looking at the white back-wash running aft from her bows, ingreen sparks, into the smooth alongside, and the surge coming round hercounter to meet it. Everything was set aloft that could draw, even to astarboard main-topmast stunsail; the high Indiaman being lighter than ifhomeward-bound, and the breeze strong abeam, she had a good heel-over toport; but she went easily through the water, and it was only at theother side you heard it rattling both ways along the bends. The shadowof her went far to leeward, except where a gleam came on the top of awave or two between the sails and under their foot. Just below the sheerof the hull, aft, it was as dark as night, though now and then the lightfrom a port struck on it and went in again; but every time she sank, thebight of her wake from astern swelled up away round the counter, withits black side as smooth as a looking-glass. I kept peering into it, andexpecting to see my own face, while all the time I was very naturallythinking of one quite different, and felt uneasy till I should actuallysee her. 'Confound it,' I thought, 'were it only a house, one might walkround and round it till he found out the window.' I fancied herbewitching face through the garden-door, as clearly as if I saw it inthe dark head of the swell; but I'd have given more only to hear thatimp of a cockatoo scream once--whereas there was nothing but the waterworking up into the rudder-case; the pintles creaking, and thetiller-ropes cheeping as they traversed; and the long welter of the seawhen the ship eased down, with the surgeon and his friends walking aboutand laughing up to windward. From that again, I ran on putting thingstogether, till, in fact, Jacobs' notion of a shipwreck seemed by far thebest. No doubt Jacobs and Westwood, with a few others, would be saved,while I didn't even object much to the old nabob himself, forrespectability's sake, and to spare crape. But, by Jove, wouldn't onebring him to his bearings soon enough there? Every sailor gets hold ofthis notion some night-watch or other, leaning over the side, withpretty creatures aboard he can scarce speak to otherwise; and I wascoiling it down so fast myself, at the moment, that I had just begun topitch into the nabob about our all being Adam's sons and daughters,under a knot of green palm-trees, at the door of a wooden house, halfthatched with leaves, when I was brought up with a round turn by seeinga light shining through the hazy bull's-eye in the deck where I stood.No doubt the sweet girl I had been thinking of was actually there, andgoing to bed; I stretched over the quarter, but the heavy mouldings werein the way against seeing more than the green bars of the afterwindow--all turned edgeways to the water, where the gallery hung outlike a corner turret from the ship's side. Now and then, however, whenshe careened a little more than ordinary, and the smooth lee swell wentheaping up opposite, I could notice the light through the venetians fromthe state-room come out upon the dark water in broad bright lines, likethe grate across a fire, then disappearing in a ripple, till it was goneagain, or somebody's shadow moved inside. It was the only lighted windowin the gallery, and I looked every time it came as if I could see in;when at last, you may fancy my satisfaction, as, all of a sudden, onelong slow heave over of the ship showed me the whole bright opening ofthe port, squared out of her shadow, where it shone upon the glassyround of the swell. 'Twas as plain as from a mirror in a closet--thelighted gallery window with its frame swung in, a bit of the deck-roof Iwas standing on, and two female figures at the window--mere dark shapesagainst the lamp. I almost started back at the notion of their seeingme, but away lengthened the light on the breast of the swell, and itsank slowly down into a black hollow, as the Indiaman eased up towindward. Minute by minute, quite breathless, did I watch for suchanother chance; but next time she leant over as much, the port had beenclosed, and all was dark; although those few moments were enough to sendthe heart into my mouth with sheer delight. The figure I had seen,holding with one hand by the port-sill, and apparently keeping up herdress with the other, as if she were looking down steadily on the heaveof the sea below--it couldn't be mistaken. The line of her head, neck,and shoulders, came out more certain than if they hadn't been filled upwith nothing but a black shadow; it was just Lota Hyde's, as she sat inthe ball-room amongst the crowd, I'd have bet the _Victory_ to a bumboaton it; only her hair hung loose on one side, while the girl behindseemed to be dressing the other, for it was turned back, so that I sawclear past her cheek and neck to where the lamp was, and her ear gleamedto the light. For one moment nothing could be plainer than the glimpseold Davy Jones gave me by one of his tricks; but the old fellow wasquite as decorous in his way as a chamber-blind, and swallowed hispretty little bit of blab as quickly as if it had been a mermaid caughtat her morning toilet. Whenever I found there was to be no more of itfor the night, the best thing to calm one's feelings was to light acigar and walk out the watch; but I took care it should rather be overthe nabob's head than his daughter's, and went up to the weather side,where there was nobody else by this time, wishing her the sweetest ofdreams, and not doubting I should see her next day.

>   "I daresay I should have walked out the first watch, and the second too,if Westwood hadn't come up beside me before he turned in.

  "'Why, you look like the officer of the watch, Ned!' said my friend,after taking a glance round at the night. 'Yes--what?--a--a--I don'tthink so,' stammered I, not knowing what he said, or at least themeaning of it, though certainly it was not so deep. 'I hope not though,Tom!' said I again; ''tis the very thing I don't want to look like!''You seem bent on keeping it up, and coming the innocent, at any rate,'said he; 'I really didn't know you the first time I saw you in thecuddy.' 'Why, man, you never saw our theatricals in the dear old _Iris_,on the African station! I was our best female actor of tragedy there,and _did_ Desdemona so well that the black cook, who stood for Othello,actually cried. He said, "Nobody but 'ee dibble umself go for smudderMissee Dasdemoner!"' 'I daresay,' said Westwood; 'but what is the needfor it _now_, even if _you_ could serve as a blind for me?' 'My dearfellow,' said I, 'not at all--you've kept it up very well so far--justgo on.' 'Keep it up, Ned?' inquired he--'what do you mean? I've donenothing except keep quiet from mere want of spirits.' 'So much thebetter,' I said; 'I never saw a man look more like a prophet in thewilderness; it doesn't cost you the least trouble--why you'd have donefor Hamlet in the _Iris_, if for nothing else! After all, though, amissionary don't wear blue pilot cloth trousers, nor tie his neckerchiefas you do, Tom. You must bend a white neck-cloth to-morrow morning! I'mquite serious, Westwood, I assure you,' continued I. 'Just think of thesuspicious look of two navy men being aboard an Indiaman, nobody knowshow! Why, the first frigate we speak, or port we touch at, they'd handone or both of us over at once--which I, for my part, shouldn't at alllike!' 'Indeed, Collins,' said Tom, turning round, 'I really cannotunderstand _why_ you went out in her! It distresses me to think thathere you've got yourself into this scrape on my account! At least you'llput back in the first home-bound ship we----' "'Oh!' exclaimed I,blushing a little in the dark though, both at Westwood's simplicity, andmy not wishing to tell him my secret yet--'I'm tired of shore--I _want_to see India again--I'm thinking of going into the _army_!' 'The _army_,indeed!' said Westwood, laughing for the first time, 'and you stillmidshipman all over. No, no--that won't do! I see your drift, you can'tdeceive _me_! You're a true friend, Ned, to stand by an old schoolmateso!' 'No, Tom!' said I; ''tis you yourself that has too kind a heart,and more of a sailor's, all fair and above-board, than I can manage! I_won't_ humbug _you_, at any rate--I tell you I've got a scheme of myown, and you'll know more of it soon.' Tom whistled; however I went onto tell him, 'The long and the short of it is, Westwood, you'll bringboth of us down by the head if you don't keep up the missionary.''Missionary!' repeated he; 'you don't mean to say you and Nevilleintended all that long toggery you supplied my kit with, for me to sailunder _missionary_ colours? I tell you what, Ned, it's not a character Ilike to cut jokes upon, much less to sham.' 'Jokes!' said I; 'there's nojoking about it; 'tis serious enough.' 'Why,' said Westwood, '_now_ Iknow the reason of a person like a clergyman sighting me through hisspectacles for half an hour together, these two evenings below! Thisvery afternoon he called me his brother, and began asking me all mannerof questions, which I could no more answer than the cook's mate.''Clergyman be hanged!' said I, 'you must steer clear of him, Tom--takecare you don't bowse up your jib too much within hail of him! Mind, Igave your name, both to the head-steward and the skipper, as theReverend Mr Thomas, going back to Bombay. There was nothing else for it,Westwood,' I said, 'when you were beyond thinking for yourself. Allyou've got to do with that solemn dissenting chap in the spectacles isjust to look as wise as possible, and let him know you belong to the_Church_. And as for shamming, you needn't sham a bit--_take to it_, mydear fellow, if that will do you good.' I said this in joke, butWestwood seemed to ponder on it for a minute or two. 'Indeed, Collins,'said he gravely, 'I _do_ think you're right. What do we sailors do butgive up everything in life for a mere schoolboy notion, and keep turningup salt water for years together like the old monks did the ground; onlythey grew corn and apples for their pains, and we have nothing but everso many dull watches and wild cruises ashore to remember! How manysailors have turned preachers and missionaries, just because something,by accident, as it were, taught them to put to account what you can'thelp feeling now and then in the very _look_ of the sea. What does itmean in the Scriptures, Ned, about "seeing the wonders of the Lord inthe deep?"' As Westwood said this, both of us stopped on the taffrail,and, somehow or other, a touch of I didn't well know _what_ went throughme. I held my breath, with his hand on my arm, just at the sight I hadseen a thousand times--the white wake running broad away astern, with amark in the middle as if it had been torn, on to the green yeast of thewaves, then right to their black crests plunging in the dark. It wasmidnight ahead, and the clouds risen aloft over where I had been lookinghalf-an-hour before; but the long ragged split to westward was openedup, and a clear glaring glance of the sky, as pale as death, shotthrough it on the horizon. '_I_ can't be sorry for having gone to sea,'said Westwood again; 'but isn't it a better thing to leave home andfriends, as those men do for the sake of carrying the Gospel to theheathen?' As soon as we wheeled round, with the ship before us, leaningover and mounting to the heave, and her spread of canvas looming out onthe dark, my thoughts righted. 'Well,' said I, 'it may be all very wellfor some--everyone to his rope; but, for my part, I think if man hadn'tbeen made for the sea, he couldn't have built a ship, and where wouldyour missionaries be _then_? You're older than I am, Westwood, or I'dsay you let some of your notions run away with you, like a Yankee shipwith her short-handed crew!' 'Oh, Ned,' said he, 'of all places in theworld for one's actions coming back on him the sea is the worst,especially when you're an idler, and have nothing to do but count thesails or listen to the passengers' feet on deck. These two days, now,I've thought more than I ever did in my life. I can't get that man'sdeath out of my head; every time the sea flashes round me as I come frombelow, I think of him--it seems to me he is lying yet by the side of theChannel. I can't help having the notion he perhaps _fired in the air_!'''Twas a base lie!' said I; 'if _he_ weren't _there_, you wouldn't behere, I can tell you, Westwood.' 'I don't know how I shall ever dragthrough this voyage,' continued he. 'If there were a French gunboat tocut out to-morrow morning, or if we were only to have a calm some day insight of a Spanish slaver--'tis nothing but a jogging old Indiamanthough! I shall never more see the flag over my head with pride--everyrespect I had was in the service!'