CHAPTER XI
My First Day at Sea
Captain Jeremy Miles was standing under the break of the poop, hissunburnt face darkened to a brick-red colour with anger.
"What d'ye mean, you rascal, stowing yourself aboard my ship?"
I must have looked a pitiable object, for, in addition to mysoot-blackened face, my clothes were covered with dust and tar, theformer from the roads, the latter from the timbers of the hold,though, until I came on deck, I was unaware of it.
My garments were also rent in several places, my hands were bleedingfrom the result of the rats' bites, and my left eye was becomingrapidly closed, by reason of the blow I had received when flungacross the cable tier.
Receiving no answer, the Captain repeated the question withincreased emphasis, stamping his foot violently on the deck.
I gave a rapid glance to windward. About a mile away I saw a line ofchalk cliffs, ending off in two remarkable pinnacles, and backed bya lofty down, regular in outline and destitute of trees; whileastern lay the sand dunes that marked the entrance to Poole Harbour.No other craft was in sight, so I concluded that, whatever elsemight happen, I should not be put ashore.
"Captain Jeremy," I exclaimed, "don't you know who I am?"
"I don't know, and, what is more, I don't care."
"But you do, sir; I am Clifford Hammond."
Had a musket exploded under his very nose, the Captain would nothave jumped back more than he did. Then his eyes opened to theirfullest extent, and his jaw dropped till almost every tooth in hishead was revealed. Those of the crew who had formed the forlorngroup in the cave in Brockenhurst Heath gave a mingled shout andcheer of welcome.
"Good heavens, lad!" exclaimed the Captain, when he had partlyrecovered himself, "you here? Sink me! Come to my cabin."
He led the way to a low yet snug apartment in the stern of thevessel, well lighted by the square ports I had before noticed, andplainly but service ably furnished. A thick red carpet covered thefloor, and curtains of similar colour partially concealed a recessthat served as a sleeping bunk. A table, secured to the floor by twolight chains, occupied most of the available space, its polished topbeing littered with charts and papers. Two muskets, a hanger, and abrace of pistols were fixed in a rack, above which was a smallbookshelf. Against the side of the bulkhead stood a small portablestove, but, the day being warm, it was unlighted. On either side ofthe stove-pipe hung several nautical instruments, including aquadrant, a telescope, and other gear; while below these, and infact in every angle of the cabin, were neatly contrived lockers.
This much I saw in a rapid glance, for Captain Jeremy seemed anxiousto speak his mind.
"You are a young rascal," said he, though in the same kindly manneras of yore. "You've outwitted me, my lad, though I must confess I amnot altogether sorry. But now, look at the other side of thebusiness. Here you are, inexperienced in the hardships of a sailor'slife, about to engage in a hazardous enterprise that may last foryears. I am saddled with the responsibility of looking after you,and this, in a measure, ties my hands."
"I'll try not to give you any trouble," I exclaimed.
"That I can quite understand; but trouble or no trouble, theresponsibility remains, d'ye see? However, least said, soonestmended. Do your duty, my lad, for I'll warrant you'll not be keptidle, and trust to One above to keep you when in danger andadversity."
He opened the cabin door and called to a man, desiring him to tellthe cook to bring in some food.
"Meanwhile," he continued, "I'll look you out some suitable apparel,and do you go for'ard, where you'll find a bucket of water. Myfaith! You'll be all the better for a good wash."
I did as he ordered, and walking along the heaving deck betweengroups of men, who stood respectfully aside for me to pass ('Eneryhaving explained that I was the son of one of the owners--notknowing of my father's death), I gained the shelter of a canvasscreen underneath the fo'c'sle ladder.
Here I removed the thick deposit of soot and dirt, and having beenrinsed down by several buckets of water thrown over me by the seamanwho brought the promised garments, I proceeded to dress.
The clothes fitted me fairly well as far as my height went, for Iwas almost full-grown in stature, but they were somewhat loose aboutthe body, yet comfortable withal; and on returning to CaptainJeremy's cabin I found myself arrayed in serviceable breeches--baggyat the knees, 'tis true--a grey flannel doublet, and a short coatwith slashed sleeves. Hat and stockings I was not as yet providedwith, neither did I require them; but on my feet I wore a pair ofpumps, or heelless shoes.
"Stow that away as fast as you can," said Captain Jeremy, pointingto a tempting display of food placed at one end of the table. "Anddon't forget to make the best of it, for the fresh stuff won't lastlong, and you'll have to fall back on real seaman's fare--hard tackand salt pork--before many days are over."
While I was ravenously devouring my food (for I was completelyfamished), a seaman was busily engaged in fixing some planks roundthe sides of one of the lockers I had previously noticed.
"He's knocking up a bunk for you," explained the kindly Captain. "Ithink you'll be able to stretch out on it."
"But you don't mean me to sleep in your cabin, sir?" I exclaimed."I'm quite ready to sleep in a hammock, like the rest of the crew."
"That's part of my responsibility," he replied, shaking his fingerat me; "so there's an end on 't. Jeremy Miles has always pridedhimself on being a man of his word, and sink me if I fail to carryout this matter to the satisfaction of my principles."
Thus I found myself installed in the Captain's cabin of the brig_Golden Hope_, which was more than I expected and more than Ideserved.
"Sixty men we carry," remarked the Captain. "None too many, but themost we can reasonably afford. Most of them have been shipmates withme in times past, and I'll warrant they'll be a tough nut for anyman to crack, be he Turk, Algerine, or buccaneer. It does my heartgood to see them do the cutlass drill, or man the ordnance. Ourmaster gunner, Master Silas Touchstone, has seen much service'gainst the Dutch, and, forsooth, he's a tower of strength to thebrig. Would you could have seen them when we beat to quarters on ourway down channel."
"Were you attacked?" I asked eagerly.
"Nay, 'twas but practice, yet 'tis what we must accustom ourselvesto, for I doubt not that we shall smell powder in real earnest erewe see Poole once again."
Just then 'Enery, who, I discovered, was the bos'n, knocked at thecabin door and reported that the wind was freshening considerably,whereat Captain Jeremy hastened on deck.
Having finished my meal, I bethought me that I ought to go on deckalso, and tying a scarf round my head in place of a hat, I ran upthe ladder and gained the poop.
The wind was howling through the rigging and driving the spray inwhite showers across our weather bow, while ahead and as far tolarboard as the eye could reach regular combers, with crested tops,showed how the surface of the sea had changed during the last hour.
On our starboard hand a wide expanse of milk-white foam betokenedthe presence of the dreaded Race of Portland, the bluff headlandthat gives it its name being plainly visible over our lee bow.
Beyond the heights of Portland the sun was setting in a pale, waterysky, which was fast becoming obscured by rapidly drifting greypatches of ragged clouds--a sure sign of bad weather.
Captain Jeremy neglected no precautions to ensure the safety of hisvessel. The fore and main topsails were close-reefed, the stormstay-sails and jib set, and the guns, boats, and hatches properlysecured.
"You had best turn in," he shouted, his lusty voice barely audibleabove the shrieking of the wind. "We'll be in the thick of it beforelong."
Tired out with my exertions and lack of sleep during my night'sjourney, I retired to the cabin, and, in spite of the incessantrolling and pitching of the vessel, and the thunder of the waves asthey poured over her bows, I fell into a deep slumber.
How long I slept I had no idea till I was roughly wakened by 'Eneryshaking my shoulder and ex
claiming: "'Tis three bells [9.30 a.m.],Master Hammond. You'd best come on deck, for there's a strange sailbearing down on us."
"What is it?" I asked. "Is it a pirate?"
"That I know not; 'tis, I fear, no law-abiding craft, and if we cometo close action every man jack'll have his work to do."
By this time I had sprung out of my bunk, and was making for thedeck.
The Quest of the 'Golden Hope': A Seventeenth Century Story of Adventure Page 12
