CHAPTER I
"Ah! Come, old ship, give us a yarn!" said the younger forecastlemen toan old one, on board of an Indiaman then swiftly cleaving the waves ofthe western Atlantic before the trade-wind, and outward-bound, with ahearty crew and a number of passengers. It was the second of the twodog-watches; and, the ship being still in the region of eveningtwilights, her men, in a good humour and with leisure, were then usuallydisposed, as on this occasion, to make fast their roaming thoughts byhelp of a good yarn, when it could be got. There were plenty ofindividuals, amongst a crew of forty, calculated by their experience, orelse by their flow of spirits and fancy, to spin it. Each watch intowhich they were divided had its especial story-teller, with whose meritsit twitted the other, and on opportunity of a general reunion, they werepitted against one another like two fighting-cocks. The one was a grave,solemn, old North-Sea whaler, with one eye, who professed to look downwith contempt upon all raw head-work, on navigation compared withseamanship, and fiction against fact. As for himself, he rested all hisfame upon actual experience, and told long dry narratives of oldshipmates, of his voyages and adventures, and sometimes of the mostincredible incidents, with a genuine briny gusto, which pleased theveteran stagers beyond expression. They were full of points ofseamanship--expedients for nice emergencies, tacks, knots, and splices;he gave the very conversation of his characters, with all the "says he"and "says I"; and one long recital of the old fellow's turned upon thequestion between himself and a new-fangled second-mate, about the rightway to set up back-stays, in which he, the sailor, was proved correct bythe loss of the ship. The other story-teller, again, was a Wapping man;a lively, impudent young Cockney, who had the most miraculous faculty oftelling lies--not only palpable lies, but lies absolutely impossible;yet they were so sublimely told often, and he contrived to lug into themsuch a quantity of gorgeous tinsel ornament, as, in his happier efforts,decidedly to carry the day against his opponent. The London hand hadseen _life_ too, of which, with respect to what is called the world, hiscompetitor was as ignorant as a child. He had his sentimental vein,accordingly, in which he took the last love-tale out of some "PennyStory-Teller" or fashionable novel he had spelled over below, and madeof it a parody that would have thrown its unfortunate author intoconvulsions of horror, and his critics into shrieks of laughter. Thefine language of lords and ladies, of romantic heroines, or of foreigncounts and bandits, was gravely retailed, and gravely listened to by athrong of admiring jack-tars; while the old whaler smoked his pipesulkily apart, gave now and then a scornful glance out of hisweather-eye, and called it "all _high-dic'_ and soger's gammon."
On this occasion, however, the group for'ard did not solicit theservices of either candidate, as they happened to have present amongthem a shipmate who, by general confession, "took the shine" out ofboth, although it was rarely they could get hold of him. "Old Jack," thecaptain's private steward, was the oldest seaman on board, and havingknown the captain when the latter went to sea, had sailed with himalmost ever since he commanded a ship, as well as lived in his house onshore. He did not now keep his watch, nor take his "trick at the helm,"except when he chose, and was altogether a privileged sort of person, orone of "the idlers." His name was Jacobs, which afforded a pretext forcalling him "Old Jack," with the sailor's fondness for that Christiancognomen, which it is difficult to account for, unless because Jonah andSt John were seafaring characters, and the Roman Catholic holy clerk StNicholas was baptised "Davy Jones," with sundry other reasons good atsea. But Old Jack was, at any rate, the best hand for a yarn in the_Gloucester_ Indiaman, and had been once or twice called upon to spinone to the ladies and gentlemen in the cuddy. It was partly because ofhis inexhaustible fund of good-humour, and partly from that love of thesea which looked out through all that the old tar had seen andundergone, and which made him still follow the bowsprit, although ableto live comfortably ashore. In his blue jacket, his white canvastrousers edged with blue, and glazed hat, coming forward to the galleyto light his pipe, after serving the captain's tea of an evening, OldJack looked out over the bulwarks, sniffed the sharp sea-air, and stoodwith his shirt-sleeve fluttering as he put his finger in his pipe, thevery embodiment of the scene--the model of a prime old salt who hadceased to "rough it," but could do so yet if needful.
"Come, old ship!" said the men near the windlass, as soon as Old Jackcame forward, "give us a yarn, will ye?" "Yarn!" said Jack,smiling--"what yarn, mates? 'Tis a fine night, though, for thatsame--the clouds flies high, and she's balling off a good ten knots sin'eight bells." "That she is, bo'--so give us a yarn now, like a reg'larold A1, as you are!" said one. "'Vast there, mate," said aman-o'-war's-man, winking to the rest--"you're always a-cargo-puddling,Bill! D'ye think Old Jack answers to any other hail nor the Queen's? Isay, old three-decker in or'nary, we all wants one o' your close-laidyarns this good night. Whaling Jim here rubs his down with a thoughtovermuch o' the tar, an' young Joe dips 'em in yallow varnish--so if yousays nay, why, we'll all save our grog, and get slewed as soon as maybe." "Well, well, mates," said Jack, endeavouring to conceal hisflattered feelings, "what's it to be, though?" "Let's see," said theman-o'-war's-man--"ay, give us the Green Hand!" "Ay, ay, the GreenHand!" exclaimed one and all. This "Green Hand" was a story Old Jack hadalready related several times, but always with such amusing variations,that it seemed on each repetition a new one--the listeners testifyingtheir satisfaction by growls of rough laughter, and by the emphatic wayin which, during a pause, they squirted their tobacco-juice on the deck.What gave additional zest to this particular yarn, too, was the fact ofits hero being no less than the captain himself, who was at this momenton the poop quarter-deck of the ship, pointing out something to a groupof ladies by the round-house--a tall good-looking man of about forty,with all the mingled gravity and frank good-humour of a sailor in hisfirm weather-tinted countenance. To have the power of secretlycontrasting his present position and manners with those delineated byOld Jack's episode from the "skipper's" previous biography, was the_acme_ of comic delight to these rude sons of Neptune, and the narratorjust hit this point.
"Ye see," began he, "'tis about six-an'-twenty year gone since I was anable seaman before the mast, in a small Indyman they called the _ChesterCastle_, lying at that time behind the Isle of Dogs in sight ofGrennidge Hospital. She was full laden, but there was a strong breezeblowing up that wouldn't let us get under weigh; and, besides, we waitedfor the most part of our hands. I had sailed with the same ship twovoyages before; so, says the captain to me one day, 'Jacobs, there's alady over at Greenwich yonder wants to send her boy to sea in theship--for a sickening I s'pose. I'm a-going up to town myself,' says he,'so take the small quarter-boat and two of the boys, and go ashore withthis letter, and see the young fool. From what I've heard,' says theskipper, 'he's a jackanapes as will give us more trouble than thanks.However, if you find the lady's bent on it, why she may send him aboardto-morrow if she likes. Only we don't carry no young gentlemen, and ifhe slings his hammock here, you must lick him into shape. I'll make asailor of him, or else a cabin boy.' 'Ay, ay, sir,' says I, shoving theletter into my hat; so in half-an-hour's time I knocks at the door ofthe lady's house, rigged out in my best, and hands over the screed to afat fellow with red breeches and yaller swabs on his shoulders, like acaptain of marines, that looked frightened at my hail, for I thou't he'dbeen deaf by the long spell he took before he opened the door. In fiveminutes I hears a woman's v'ice ask at the footman if there was a sailora-waiting below. 'Yes, marm,' says he; and 'show him up,' says she.Well, I gives a scrape with my larboard foot, and a tug to my hair, whenI gets to the door of _sich_ a fine room above decks as ever you see,all full o' tables, an' chairs, an' sofers, an' piangers, an' them sorto' high-flying consarns. There was a lady all in silks and satins on oneof the sofers, dressed out like a widow, with a pretty little girl aswas playing music out of a large portmankey--and a picter of a man uponthe wall, which I at once logged it down for his as she'd partedcompany from. 'Sarvint, marm,' says I. 'Come in, my good man,' says t
helady. 'You're a sailor?' says she--asking, like, to be sure if I warn'tthe cook's mate in dish-guise, I fancy. 'Well, marm' I raps out, 'I makebould to say as I hopes I am!'--an' I catches a sight o' myself in a biglooking-glass behind the lady, as large as our sky-sail--and, being ayoung fellow in them days, thinks I, 'Blow me, if Betsy Brown axed methat now, I'd up an' hax her if _she_ war a _woman_!' 'Well,' says she,'Captain Steel tells me, in this here letter, he's a-going to take myson. Now,' says she, 'I'm sore against it----couldn't you say some'at toturn his mind?' 'The best way for that, yer ladyship,' says I, 'is forto let him go, if it was only the length of the Nore. The sea'll turnhis stomich for him, marm,' I says, 'an' then we can send him home bythe pilot.' 'He wanted for to go into the navy,' says the lady again,'but I couldn't think on that for a moment, on account of this herefearful war; an', after all, he'll be safer in sailing at sea nor in thearmy or navy--doesn't you think so, my good man?' 'It's all you knowsabout it,' thinks I; hows'ever, I said there wasn't a doubt on it. 'IsCaptain Steel a rash man?' says she. 'How so, marm?' says I, some'attaken aback. 'I hope he does not sail at night, or in storms, like toomany of his profession, I'm afeard,' says she; 'I hope he always weighsthe anchor in such cases, very careful.' 'Oh, in course,' says I, notknowin', for the life of me, what she meant. I didn't like to come therig over the poor lady, seein' her so anxious like; but it was no use,we was on such different tacks, ye see. 'Oh yes, marm,' I says, 'CaptainSteel al'ays reefs taups'ls at sight of a squall brewing to wind'rd; andthen we're as safe as a church, ye know, with a man at the wheel asknows his duty.' 'This relieves my mind,' the lady says, 'wery much';but I couldn't think why she kept sniffing all the time at hersmelling-bottle, as she wor agoin' to faint. 'Don't take it to heart so,yer ladyship,' I says at last; 'I'll look after the young gentleman tillhe finds his sea-legs.' 'Thank you,' says she; 'but I beg your parding,would ye be kind enough for to open the winder, and look out if you seeEdward? I think he's in the garding--I feel sich a smell of pitch andtar!' I hears her say to the girl! and says she to me again, 'Do yousee Edward there?--give a call to him, please. Accordently, I couldn'tmiss sight of three or four young slips alongside, for they made plentyof noise--one of 'em on top of a water-barrel smoking a sea-gar; anothersinging out inside of it for mercy; and the rest roaring round about it,like so many Bedlamites. 'No wonder the young scamp wants off to sea,'thinks I, 'he's got nothin' arthly to do but mischief.' 'Which be's theyoung gentleman, marm?' says I, lookin' back into the room--'is it himwith the sea-gar and the red skull-cap?' 'Yes,' says the lady--'call himup, please.' 'Hallo!' I sings out, and all runs off but him on thebarrel, and 'Hallo!' says he. 'You're wanted on deck here, sir,' I says;and in five minutes in comes my young gemman, as grave as you please.'Edward,' says his mother, 'this is one of Captain Steel's men.' 'Is hegoing to take me?' says the young fellow, with his hands in his pockets.'Well, sir,' I says, ''tis a very bad look-out, is the sea, for them asdon't like it. You'll be sorry ten times over you've left sich a berthas this here, afore you're down Channel.' The young chap looks me allover from clue to earing, and says he, 'My mother told you to say that!''No, sir,' says I, 'I says it on my own hook.' 'Why did you go yourself,then?' says he. 'I couldn't help it,' answers I. 'Oh,' says theimpertinent little beggar, 'but you're only one of the common sailors,ain't you?' 'Split me!' thinks I, 'if I doesn't show you the oddsbetwixt a common sailor, as ye call it, and a lubber of a boy, beforelong!' But I wasn't goin' to let him take the jaw out o' me, so I onlylaughed, an' says I, 'Why, I'm captain of the foretop at sea, anyhow.''Where's your huniform, then?' says the boy, lowering his tone a bit.'Oh,' I says, 'we doesn't al'ays wear huniform, ye know, sir. Thishere's what we call ondress.' 'I'm sorry, sir,' says the lady, 'I didn'tax you to sit down.' 'No offence at all, marm,' I says, but I took acouple o' glasses of brandy as was brought in. I saw 'twas no use goin'against the young chap; so, when he asked what he'd have to do aboard, Itold him nothing to speak of, except count the sails now and then, lookover the bows to see how the ship went, and go aloft with a spy-glass.'Oh,' says his mother at this, 'I hope Captain Steel won't never allowEdward to go up those dangerous ladders! It is my pertic'lar request heshould be punished if he does.' 'Sartinly, marm, I'll mention it to thecaptain,' I says, 'an' no doubt he'll give them orders as you speak on.The captain desired me to say the young gentleman could come aboard assoon as he likes,' says I before goin' out of the door. 'Very well,sir,' says the lady, 'I shall see the tailor this same arternoon, andget his clothes, if so be it must.' The last word I said was, I puts myhead half in again to tell 'em, 'There was no use gettin' any huniformsat present, seein' the ship's sailmaker could do all as was wantedarterwards, when we got to sea.'
"Well, two or three days after, the captain sent word to say the shipwould drop down with the morning tide, and Master Collins had better beaboard by six o'clock. I went ashore with the boat, but the younggemman's clothes warn't ready yet; so it was reg'lar made up he was tocome on board from Gravesend the day after. But his mother and an oldlady, a friend of theirs, would have it they'd go and see his bedroom,and take a look at the ship. There was a bit of a breeze with the tide,and the old Indyman bobbed up and down on it in the cold morning; youcould hear the wash of the water a-poppling on to her counter, with herrunning-gear blown out in a bend; and Missus Collins thought they'dnever get up the dirty black sides of the vessel, as she called 'em. Theother said her husband had been a captain, an' she laid claim to asnatch of knowledge. 'Sailor,' says she to me, as we got under thequarter, 'that there tall mast is the main-bowsprit, ain't it? and thatother is the gallant bowling you call it, don't you?' says she. 'Nodoubt, marm,' says I, winking to the boys not to laugh. 'It's allright,' I says. Howsoever, as to the bedroom, the captain showed 'emover the cabin, and put 'em off by saying the ship was so out of orderhe couldn't say which rooms was to be which yet, though they needn'tfear Master Ned would get all comfortable; so ashore the poor womanwent, pretty well pleased, considerin' her heart was against the wholeconsarn.
"Well, the next afternoon, lying off Gravesend, out comes a wherry withyoung master. One of the men said there was a midshipman in it.'Midshipman be blowed!' says I; 'did ye ever see a reefer in a wherry,or sitting anywheres out o' the starn-sheets? It's neither more nor lessnor this precious greenhorn as we've got.' 'Why don't the bo'sun pipe toman side-ropes for him?' says t'other; but, 'my eye, Bob,' says he tome, 'what a sight of traps the chap's got in the boat!--'twill be enoughto heel the _Chester Castle_ to the side he berths upon, on an evenkeel. Do he mean to have the captain's cabin, I wonder!' Up the side hescrambles, with the help of a side-ladder, all togged out to the ninesin a span-new blue jacket and anchor buttons, a cap with a gould band,and white ducks made to fit--as jemmy-jessamy a looking fellow as you'dsee of a cruise along London parks--with the waterman singing outalongside to send down a tackle for the dunnage, which it took a pair ofpurchase-blocks to hoist them out on board. 'What's all this?' says themate, coming for'ard from the quarter-deck. ''Tis the young gemman'straps, sir,' I says. Says the mate, 'D'ye think we've got spare room tostow all this lumber? Strike it down into the fore-hold, Jacobs--and getout a old blue shirt or two, and a Scotch cap, for the young whelpfirst, if he wants to save that smooth toggery of his for his mammy.You're as green as cabbage, I'm feared, my lad!' says he. By this timethe boy was struck all of a heap, an' didn't know what to say when hesaw the boat pulling for shore, except he wanted to have a sight of hisbedroom. 'Jacobs,' says the mate, laughing like an old bear, 'take himbelow, and show him his bedroom, as he calls it!' So down we went to thehalf-deck, where the carpenter, bo'sun, and three or four of the'prentices, had their hammocks slung. There I leaves him to overhaul hisbig donkey of a chest, which his mother had stowed it with clothesenough for a lord ambassador, but not a blessed thing fit to use--Iwouldn't 'a given my bit of a black locker for the whole on it, tentimes over. There was another choke-full of gingerbread, pots o'presarves, pickles, and bottles; and, thinks I, 'The old lady didn'tknow what _shares_ is at se
a I reckon. 'Twill all be gone for footing,my boy, before you've seen blue water, or I'm a Dutchman.'
"In a short time we was up anchor, going down with a fast breeze for theNore; and we stood out to sea that night, having to join a convoy offSpithead. My gentleman was turned in all standing, on top o' some sailsbelow; and next day he was as sick as a greenhorn could be, cleaning outhis land-ballast where he lay, nor I didn't see him till he'd gotbetter. 'Twas blowing a strong breeze, with light canvas all in aloft,and a single reef in the tops'ls; but fine enough for the Channel,except the rain--when what does I see but the 'Green Hand' on theweather quarter-deck, holding on by the belaying pins, with ayumbereller over his head. The men for'ard was all in a roar, but noneof the officers was on deck save the third mate. The mate goes up tohim, and looks in his face. 'Why,' says he, 'you confounded longshore,picked-up son of a greengrocer, what _are_ you after?' an' he takes thearticle a slap with his larboard-flipper, as sent it flying to leewardlike a puff of smoke. 'Keep off the quarter-deck, you lubber,' says he,giving him a wheel down into the lee-scuppers--'it's well the captaindidn't catch ye! Come aft here, some of ye,' sings out the third mateagain, 'to brace up the main-yard; and you, ye lazy beggar, clap on thismoment and pull!' At this the greenhorn looks round doubtful, like, thenat last he takes out a pair o' double gloves, shoves his fingers into'em, and tails on to the rope behind. 'Well!' says the mate, 'if I eversee the likes o' that! Jacobs, get a tar-bucket and dip his fists in it;larn him what his hands were made for! I never could a-bear to see afellow ashore with his flippers shoed like his feet; but at sea,confound me, it would make a man green-sick over again.' If you'd onlyseen how Master Collins looked when I shoved his missy fingers into thetar, and chucked them gloves o'board! The next moment he ups fist andmade a slap at me, when in goes the brush in his mouth; the mate giveshim a kick astarn; and the young chap went sprawling down into thehalf-deck ladder, where the carpenter had his shavin'-glass rigged tocrop his chin--and there he gets another clip across the jaws fromChips. 'Now,' says the mate, 'the chap'll be liker a sailor to-morrow.He's got some spunk in him, though, by the way he let drive at you, mylad,' says he; 'that fellow'll either catch the cat or spoil the monkey.Look after him, Jacobs, my lad,' says the third mate; 'he's in my watch,and the captain wants him to rough it out; so show him the ropes, andlet him taste an end now an' then. Ha, ha, ha!' says he, again,laughing, ''tis the first time I ever see a embrella loosed out at sea,and but the second I've seen brought aboard even. He's the greenesthand, sure enough, it's been my luck to come across! But green theysay's nigh to blue, so look out if I don't try to make a sailor of theyoung spark!'
"Well, for the next three or four days the poor fellow was knocked abouton all hands; he'd got to go aloft to the 'gallant cross-trees, and outon the yard foot-ropes the next morning, before breakfast; and, comingdown, in course, ye know, the men made him fast till he sent down thekey of his bottle-chest to pay his footing. If he closed his eyes amoment in the watch, slash comes a bucketful o' Channel water over him.The third mate would keep him two hours on end, larnin' to rig out asterns'l boom, or grease a royal mast. He led a dog's life of it,likewise, in the half-deck; bein' last come, in course, he had al'ays togo and fill the bread-barge, scrub the planks, an' do all the dirtyjobs. Them _owners' 'prentices_, sich as he had for messmates, is alwaysworse to their own kind by far nor the '_comming sailors_,' as thelongshore folks calls a foremast-man. I couldn't help takin' pity on thepoor lad, bein' the only one as had known the way of his upbringing, andI feels a sort of a charge of him like; so one night I gets a quietspell with him in the watch, an' as soon 's I fell to speak kind-ways,there I seed the water stand i' the boy's eyes. 'It's a good thing,'says he, tryin' to gulp it down--'it's a goo--good thing mother don'tsee all this!' 'Ho, ho!' says I, 'my lad, 'tis all but another way ofbein' sea-sick! You doesn't get the land cleared out, and sniff the bluebreeze nat'ral like, all at once! Hows'ever, my lad,' says I, 'take myadvice--bring your hammock an' chest into the foc'sle; swap half yourfine clothes for blue shirts and canvas trousers; turn to, ready andwilling, an' do all that's asked you--you'll soon find the differingsbetwixt the men and a few petty officers an' 'prentices half out theirtime. The men'll soon make a sailor of you; you'll see what a seaman is;you'll larn ten times the knowledge; an', add to that, you'll not bebrowbeat and looked jealous on!'
"Well, next night, what does he do but follers what I said, and aforelong most of his troubles was naterally over; nor there wasn't awillin'er nor a readier hand aboard, and every man was glad to put Nedthrough anything he'd got to do. The mates began to take note on him;and though the 'prentices never left off calling him the Green Hand,before we rounded the Cape he could take his wheel with the best ofthem, and clear away a sternsail out of the top in handsome style. Wewere out ten months, and Ned Collins stuck to the foc'sle throughout.When we got up the Thames, he went ashore to see his mother in a checkshirt and canvas trousers made out of an old royal, with a tarpaulin hatI built for him myself. He would have me to come the next day over tothe house for to have a supper; so, havin' took a kindness to the youngchap, why, I couldn't say nay. There I finds him in the midst of a loto' soft-faced slips and young ladies, a spinning the wonderfullest yarnsabout the sea and the East Ingees, makin' em swallow all sorts ofhorse-marines' nonsense, about marmaids, sea-serpents, and sich like.'Hallo, my hearty!' says he, as soon as he saw me, 'heave a-head here,and bring to an anchor in this here blessed chair. Young ladies,' sayshe, 'this is Bob Jacobs, as I told you kissed a marmaid hisself. He's awonderful hand, is Bob, for the fair ones!' You may fancy howflabbergasted I was at this, though the young scamp was as cool as youplease, and wouldn't ha' needed much to make him kiss 'em all round; butI was al'ays milk-and-water alongside of women, if they topped at allabove my rating. 'Well,' thinks I, 'my lad, I wouldn't ha' said fiveminutes agone, there was anything of the green about ye yet, but I see'twill take another voy'ge to wash it all out.' For to my thinkin',mates, 'tis more of a land-lubber to come the rig over a few poorcreaters that never saw blue water, than not to know the ropes youwarn't told. 'Oh, Mister Jacobs!' says Missus Collins to me that night,before I went off, 'd'ye think Edward is tired of that 'ere horridsomesea yet?' 'Well, marm,' I says, 'I'm afeared not. But I'll tell ye,marm,' says I, 'if you wants to make him cut the consarn, the only thingye can do is to get him bound apprentice to it. From what I've seen ofhim, he's a lad that won't bear aught again his liberty; an' I dobelieve, if he thought he couldn't get free, he'd run the next day!'Well, after that, ye see, I didn't know what more turned up of it; for Iwent round to Hull, myself, and ships in a timber-craft for the Baltic,just to see som'at new.
"Now, one day, the third voy'ge from that time, no sooner does we get upto Blackwall than we hears of a strong press from the men-o'-war; and asI'd got a desperate mislike to the sarvice, there was a lot of usmarchantmen kept stowed away close in holes an' corners till we couldsuit ourselves. At last we got well tired, and a shipmate o' mine and Iwanted to go and see our sweethearts over in the town. So we hired theslops from a Jew, and makes ourselves out to be a couple o' watermen,with badges to suit, a-carrying of a large parcile and a ticket on it.In the afternoon we came back again within sight of the Tower, where wesaw the coast was clear, and makes a fair wind along Rosemary Lane andCable Street. Just then we saw a tall young fellow, in a brown coat, an'a broad-brim hat, a-standing in the door of a shop, with a paper underhis arm, on the look-out for someone. 'Twig the Quaker, Bob!' myshipmate says to me. As soon as he saw us, out the Quaker steps, andsays he to Bill, in a sleepy sort of a v'ice, 'Friend, thou'rt awaterman, I b'lieve?' 'Yes,' says Bill, with an oath, 'that's what wehails for. D'ye want a boat, master?' 'Swear not, friend,' says thebroad-brim; 'but what I want is this, you see. We have a large vessel,belonging to our house, for to send to Havannah, and willin' to givedouble wages, but we can't find any marineers at this present time forto navigate. Now,' says he, 'I s'pose this onfortunate state o' thingsis on account of the sinful war as is a-goin' on
--they're afraid of theriskses. Hows'ever, my friends,' says he, 'perhaps, as you knows theriver, thee could put us upon a way of engagin' twenty or more boldmarineers, as is not afeared of venturing for good pay?' and with thishe looks into his papers; and says Bill, 'Well, sir, I don't know anymyself--do you, Bob?' and he gives me a shove, and says under the rose,'No fear, mate,' says Bill, 'he's all over green--don't slip the chancefor all hands of us at Jobson's.' 'Why, master,' I says, 'what 'ud yegive them marineers you speaks on, now?' 'Four pound a month, friend,'says he, looking up; 'but we gives tea in place of spirits, and we musthave steady men. We can't wait, neither,' says he, 'more nor three days,or the vessel won't sail at all.' 'My eye!' says Bill, ''twon't do tomiss, Bob!--stick to him, that's all.' 'Well, sir,' I says, 'I thinks Idoes have a notion of some'at of the sort. If you sends your papers toJobson's Tavern to-night, second lane 'twixt Barnaby Street and the BlueAnchor Road, over the water, why, I might get ye as many hands for tosign as you wants.' 'Thanks, friend,' says the young broad-brim, 'Iwill attend to thine advice.' So he bids us good-day, and stepped intohis door again. 'Bill,' says I, as we went off, 'now I think on it, Ican't help a notion I've seen that chap's face afore.' 'Very like,' saysBill; 'for the matter o' that, 'tis the same with me--them broad-brimsis so much of a piece. But that 'ere fellow don't know nothin' of ships,sure enough, or he wouldn't offer what he did, and the crimps' housesall of a swarm with hands!'
"'Take my word, mate,' says I, 'it's a paying trip, or he wouldn't doit--leave a Quaker alone for that. Why, the chap's a parfit youngster,but I am blessed if he don't look as starched as if he'd sat over a daskfor twenty year!'
"Well, strike me lucky, mates all, if the whole affair warn't a completetrap! Down comes a clerk with the papers, sure enough; but in tenminutes more the whole blessed lot of us was puckalowed, and hard an'fast, by a strong press-gang. They put us into a cutter off RedriffStairs, and the next noon all hands was aboard of the _Pandora_ frigateat Sheerness. The first time of being mustered on deck, says Bill to me,'Cuss my eyes, Bob, if there isn't the 'farnal Quaker!' I looked, andsees a midshipman in uniform like the rest, and so it was. 'The sly,soft-sawderin' beggar!' says I. 'All fair in war, and a press, mate!'says one o' the frigate's men. All the while I kept looking and lookingat the midshipman; and at last I says to Bill when we got below, givinga slap to my thigh, 'Blessed if it ain't! It's the _Green Hand_himself!' 'Green Hand!' says Bill, sulky enough, 'who's the Green Hand?Blow me, Bob, if I don't think we're the green hands ourselves, ifthat's what you're upon!' So I told him the story about Ned Collins.'Well,' says he, 'if a fellow was green as Chinee rice, cuss me if thereefers' mess wouldn't take it all out on him in a dozen watches. Thesoftest thing I know, as you say, Bob, just now, it's to come the smarthand when you're a lubber; but to sham green after that style, ye know,why, it is a mark or two above either you or I, messmate. So, for mypart, I forgives the young scamp, 'cause I ought to ha' known better.'
"By the time the frigate got to sea the story was blowed over the wholemain-deck; many a good laugh it gived the different messes; and Bill,the midshipman, and me, got the name of the 'Three Green Hands.'
"One middle-watch Mister Ned comes for'ard by the booms to me, and sayshe, 'Well, Bob Jacobs, you don't bear a grudge, I hope?' 'Why,' says I,'Mister Collins, 'twould be mutiny now, I fancy, you being my officer.'So I gave a laugh; but I couldn't help feelin' hurt a little, 'twas solike a son turnin' against his father, as 'twere. 'Why, Bob,' says he,'did ye think me so green as not to know a seaman when I saw him? I wasafeared you'd know me that time.' 'Not I, sir,' I answers; 'why, if wehadn't sailed so long in company, I wouldn't know ye now!' So Master Nedgived me to understand it was all for old times he wanted to ship me inthe same craft; but he knew my misliking to the sarvice, though he saidhe'd rather ha' lost the whole haul of 'em nor myself. So many a yarn wehad together of a dark night, and for a couple of years we saw no smallsarvice in the _Pandora_. But if ye'd seen Ned, the smartest reeferaboard, and the best liked by the men, in the fore-tops'l bunt in agale, or over the main-deck hatch, with an enemy's frigate to leeward,or on a spree ashore at Lisbon or Naples, you wouldn't ha' said therewas anything green in his eye, I warrant ye! He was madeacting-leftenant of a prize he cut out near Chairboorg, before he passedexamination; so he took me for his prize-bo'sun, and carried her intoPlymouth. Soon after that the war was ended, and all hands of the_Pandora_ paid off. Master Ned got passed with flying colours, andconfirmed leftenant besides, but he had to wait for a ship. He made mesay where I'd be found, and we parted company for about a year.
"Well, I was come home from a short trip, and one day Leftenant Collinshunts me up at Wapping Docks, where I'd had myself spliced, six yearsbefore, to Betsy Brown, an' was laid up for a spell, having seen a gooddeal of the sea. Ye must know the young leftenant was fell deep in lovewith a rich Indy naboob's daughter, which had come over to take her backto the East Ingees. The old fellow was hard close-hauled again thematch, notwithstanding of the young folks makin' it all up; so he'dtaken out berths aboard of a large company's ship, and bought over thecaptain on no account to let any king's navy man within the gangways,nor not a shoulder with a swab upon it, red or blue, beyond the ship'scompany. But, above all, the old tyrant wouldn't have a blue-jacket,from stem to starn, if so be he'd got nothing ado but talk sweet; Is'pose he fancied his girl was mad after the whole blessed cloth. Theleftenant turns over this here log to me, and, says he, 'I'll follow herto the world's end, if need be, Bob, and cheat the old villain!' 'Quiteright, too, sir,' says I. 'Bob,' says he,' I'll tell you what I wantsyou for to do. Go you and enter for the _Seringapatam_ at Blackwall, ifyou're for sea just now; I'm goin' for to s'cure my passage myself, an'no doubt doorin' the voy'ge something'll turn up to set all square; atany rate, I'll stand by for a rope to pull!' 'Why, here's a rum go!'thinks I to myself. 'Is Ned Collins got so green again, spite of allthat's come and gone, for to think the waves is a-goin' to work wonders,or ould Neptune under the line's to play the parson and splice all!''Well, sir,' I says, 'but don't you think the skipper will smoke yourweather-roll, sir, at sea, as you did Bill Pikes an' me, you know, sir?'says I. 'Oh, Bob, my lad,' says the leftenant, 'leave you that to me.The fellow most onlikest to a sailor on the Indyman's poop will be me,and that's the way you'll know me.'
"Well, ship I does with the _Seringapatam_ for Bombay--plenty ofpassengers she had; but only clerks, naboobs, old half-pay fellows, andladies, not to speak o' children and nurses, black and white. She sailedwithout my seein' Leftenant Collins, so I thought I was to hear no moreon it. When the passengers began to muster on the poop, by the time wegot out o' Channel, I takes a look over the ladies, in coilin' up theropes aft, or at the wheel; I knowed the said girl at once by her goodlooks, and the old fellow by his grumpy, yallow frontispiece. All on asudden I takes a note of a figger coming up from the cuddy, which I madeout at once for my Master Ned, spite of his wig and a pair o'high-heeled boots, as gave him the walk of a chap a-treading amongsteggs. When I hears him lisp out to the skipper at the round-house ifthere was any fear of wind, 'twas all I could do to keep the juice in mycheek. Away he goes up to windward, holding on by everything, to lookover the bulwarks behind his sweetheart, givin' me a glance over hisshoulder. At night I see the two hold a sort of collogue abaft thewheel, when I was on my trick at the helm. After awhile there was a rowgot up amongst the passengers, with the old naboob and the skipper, tofind out who it was that kept a-singing every still night in the firstwatch, alongside of the ladies' cabin, under the poop. It couldn't becleared up, hows'ever, who it was. All sorts o' places they said itcomed from--mizzen-chains, quarter-galleries, lower-deck ports, anddavit-boats. But what put the old hunks most in a rage was, the songswas every one on 'em such as 'Rule Britannia,' 'Bay of Biscay,''Britannia's Bulwarks,' and 'All in the Downs.' The captain was all atsea about it, and none of the men would say anything, for by allaccounts 'twas the best pipe at a sea-song as was to be heard. For mypart, I knowed pretty well what was afloat. One night a man
comedfor'ard from the wheel, after steering his dog-watch out, and 'Well, I'mblessed, mates,' says he on the foc'sle, 'but that chap aft yonder withthe lady--he's about the greenest hand I've chanced to come across. Whatd'ye think I hears him say to old Yallow-chops an hour agone?' 'What wasit, mate?' I says. 'Says he, "Do you know, Sar Chawls, is the hoshunreelly green at the line--_green_ ye know, Sar Chawls, _reelly_ green?""No, sir," says the old naboob, "'tis blue." "Whoy, ye don't sa--ay so!"says the young chap, pullin' a long face.' 'Why, Jim,' another handdrops in, 'that's the very chap as sings them first-rate sea-songs of anight. I seed him myself come out o' the mizzen-chains!' 'Hallo!' saysanother at this, 'then there's some'at queer i' the wind! I _thought_ hegave rather a weather-look aloft, comin' on deck i' the morning. I'llbet a week's grog that chap's desarted from the king's flag, mates!'Well, ye know, hereupon I couldn't do no less nor shove in my oar, so Itakes word from all hands not to blow the gaff,[1] an' then gives 'emthe whole yarn to the very day, about the Green Hand--for somehow oranother I was al'ays a yarning sort of a customer. As soon as they heardit was a love consarn, not a man but swore to keep a stopper on his jaw;only, at findin' out he was a leftenant in the Royal Navy, all hands wasfor touching hats when they went past.
[1] Let out the secret.
"Hows'ever, things went on till we'd crossed the line a good while; theleftenant was making his way with the girl at every chance. But, as forthe old fellow, I didn't see he was a fathom the nearer with _him_;though, as the naboob had never clapped eyes on him to know him like,'twan't much matter before heaving in sight o' port. The captain of theIndyman was a rum, old-fashioned codger, all for plain sailing and oldways--I shouldn't say overmuch of a smart seaman. He read the sarviceevery Sunday, rigged the church an' all that, if it was anything shortof a reef-taups'l breeze. 'Twas queer enough, ye may think, to hear theold boy drawling out, 'As 'twas in the beginning--'then, in the one key,'Haul aft the mainsheet----' 'is now, and ever shall be----' 'Small pullwith the weather brace----' 'Amen----' 'Well the main-yard----' 'TheLord be with you----' 'Taups'l yard well!' As for the first orficer, hewas a dandy, know-nothing young blade, as wanted to show off before theladies; and the second was afraid to call the nose on his face his own,except in his watch; the third was a good seaman, but ye may well fancythe craft stood often a poor chance of being rightly handled.
"'Twas one arternoon watch, off the west coast of Africay, as hot a dayas I ever mind on, we lost the breeze with a swell, and just as it gotdown smooth, land was made out, low upon the starboard bow, aboutsouth-east-and-by-sou', as near as may be. The captain was turned insick below, and the first orficer on deck. I was at the wheel myself,and I hears him say to the second as how the land breeze would come offat night. A little after, up comes Leftenant Collins, in his black wigand his 'long-shore hat, an' he begins to squint over the starn tonor'west'ard. 'Jacobs, my lad,' whispers he to me, 'how do ye like thelooks o' things?' 'Not overmuch, sir,' says I; 'small enough sea-room,leastways for a sky like that 'ere.' Up goes he to the first officer,after a bit. 'Sir,' says he, 'do ye notice how we've risen the landwithin the last hour and a half?' 'No, sir,' says the first mate. 'Whatd'ye mean?' 'Why, there's a current here, takin' us inside the point,'says he. 'Sir,' says the Company's man, 'if I didn't know what's what,d'ye think I'd learn it off a gentleman as is so confounded green?There's nothing of the sort,' he says. 'Look on the starboard quarter,then,' says the leftenant, 'at the man-o'-war bird afloat yonder withits wings spread. Take three minutes' look!' says he. Well, the mate didtake a minute or two's squint through the mizzen-shroud, and prettyblue he got, for the bird came abreast of the ship by that time.
"'It's a underdrift,' says the leftenant, wonderfulknowing-like--'though it's nothing on the surfage, look ye, why, withthe draught the ship has it's a-taking her along like a tideway, below!Now, d'ye think you'd weather that there point two hours after this, ifa gale come on from the nor'-west, sir?' 'Well,' says the first mate, 'Idare say we shouldn't--but what of that?' 'Why, if you'd cruised for sixmonths off the coast of Africa, as I've done,' says the leftenant,'you'd think there was something ticklish about that white spot in thesky, to nor'-west! But on top o' that, the weather-glass is fell a goodbit since four bells.' 'Weather-glass!' the mate says, 'why, that don'tmatter much in respect of a gale, I fancy.' Ye must understand,weather-glasses wan't come so much in fashion at that time, except inthe Royal Navy. 'Sir,' says the mate again, 'mind _your_ business, ifyou've got any, and I'll mind mine!' 'If I was you,' the leftenant says,'I'd call the captain.' 'Thank ye,' says the mate--'call the captain fornothing!' Well, in an hour more the land was quite plain on thestarboard bow, and the mate comes aft again to Leftenant Collins. Theclouds was beginning to grow out of the clear sky astarn too. 'Why,sir,' says the mate, 'I'd no notion you was a _seaman_ at all! Whatwould you do yourself now, supposin' the case you put a little ago?''Well, sir,' says Mr Collins, 'if you'll do the thing, I'll put ye up toit at once----'"
At this point of Old Jack's story, however, a cabin-boy came from aft,to say that the captain wanted him. The old seaman knocked the ashes outof his pipe, which he had smoked at intervals in short puffs, put it inhis jacket pocket, and got up off the windlass end. "Why, old ship!"said the man-o'-war's-man, "are ye goin' to leave us in the lurch with a_short yarn_ again?" "Can't help it, bo'," said old Jack; "orders mustbe obeyed, ye know," and away he went. "Well, mates," said one, "if theyarn's been overhauled before, what was the upshot of it? I didn't hearit myself." "Blessed if I know," said several--"Old Jack didn't get thelength last time he's got now." "More luck!" said the man-o'-war's-man;"'tis to be hoped he'll finish it next time!"
The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant Page 4
