 | CHAPTER XII. Ned Myers, or, A life before the mast |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
As soon as the Trio was off, I got well. Little did I
then think of the great risk I ran in going ashore; for it
was almost certain death for an European to land, for any
length of time, at that season. Still less did I, or could I,
anticipate what was to happen to myself, in this very hospital,
a few years later; or how long I was to be one of its
truly suffering, and, I hope, repentant inmates. The consul
was frank enough to tell me that I had been shamming
Abraham; and I so far imitated his sincerity as distinctly
to state, it was quite true. I thought the old Trio ought to
have been left on the bank, where Providence had placed
her; but, it being the pleasure of her captain and the supercargo
to take her bones to the Isle of France for burial, I
did not choose to go so far, weeping through the pumps, to
attend her funeral.
As the consul held my wages, and refused to give me any
money, I was compelled to get on board some vessel as soon
as I could. Batavia was not a place for an American constitution,
and I was glad to be off. I shipped, before the
mast, in the Clyde, of Salem, a good little ship, with good
living and good treatment. We sailed immediately, but not
soon enough to escape the Batavia fever. Two of the crew
died, about a week out, and were buried in the Straits of
Banca. The day we lost sight of Java Head, it came on to
blow fresh, and we had to take in the jib, and double-reef
the topsails. A man of the name of Day went down on the
bowsprit shrouds to clear the jib-sheets, when the ship made
a heavy pitch, and washed him away. The second mate
and myself got into the boat, and were lowered as soon as
the ship was rounded-to. There was a very heavy sea on,
but we succeeded in finding the poor fellow, who was swimming
with great apparent strength. His face was towards
the boat, and, as we came near, I rose, and threw the blade
of my oar towards him, calling out to him to be of good
cheer. At this instant, Day seemed to spring nearly his
length out of water, and immediately sunk. What caused
this extraordinary effort, and sudden failure, was never
him, though I saw neither blood nor fish. The man was
hopelessly lost, and we returned to the ship, feeling as seamen
always feel on such occasions.
A few days later, another man died of the fever. This
left but five of us in the forecastle, with the ship a long way
to the eastward of the Cape of Good Hope. Before we got
up with the Cape, another foremast hand went crazy, and,
instead of helping us, became a cause of much trouble for
the rest of the passage. In the end, he died, mad. We had
now only three men in a watch, the officers included; and,
of course, it was trick and trick at the helm. Notwithstanding
all this, we did very well, having a good run, until we
got on the coast, which we reached in the month of January.
A north-wester drove us off, and we had a pretty tough week
of it, but brought the ship up to the Hook, at the end of that
time, and anchored her safely in the East River. The Clyde
must have been a ship of about three hundred tons, and, including
every one on board, nine of us sailed her from the
eastward of the Cape to her port, without any serious difficulty.
I did not stay long ashore, for the money went like smoke,
but shipped in a brig called the Margaret, bound to Belfast.
This vessel struck in the Irish channel, but she was backed
off with little difficulty, and got safe into her port. The return
passage was pleasant, and without any accident.
Such a voyage left little to spend, and I was soon on the
look-out for a fresh berth. I shipped this time as mate, in
a brig called the William Henry, bound on a smuggling
voyage to the coast of Spain. We took in tobacco, segars,
&c. &c., and the brig dropped down to Staten Island. Here
I quarrelled with the captain about some cotton wick, and I
threw up my situation. I knew there were more ships than
parish churches, and felt no concern about finding a place in
one, up at town. The balance of my advance was paid
back, and I left the smuggling trade, like an honest man. I
only wish this change of purpose had proceeded from a better
motive.
My next windfall was Jack's berth on board a beautiful
little schooner called the Ida, that was to sail for Curaçoa,
in the hope of being purchased by the governor of the island
main, after the craft was sold. We got out without any
accident, going into port of a Sunday morning. The same
morning, an English frigate and a sloop-of-war came in and
anchored. That afternoon these vessels commenced giving
liberty to their men. We were alongside of a wharf, and,
in the afternoon, our crew took a drift in some public gardens
in the suburbs of the town. Here an incident occurred
that is sufficiently singular to be mentioned.
I was by myself in the garden, ruminating on the past,
and, I suppose, looking melancholy and in the market, when
I perceived an English man-of-war's-man eyeing me pretty
closely. After a while, he came up, and fell into discourse
with me. Something that fell from him made me distrust
him from the first, and I acted with great caution. After
sounding me for some time, he inquired if I had any berth.
I told him, no. He then went on, little by little, until he got
such answers as gave him confidence, when he let me into
the secret of his real object. He said he belonged to the
frigate, and had liberty until next morning—that he and four
of his shipmates who were ashore, had determined to get
possession of the pretty little Yankee schooner that was lying
alongside of the Telegraph, at the wharf, and carry her down
to Laguayra. All this was to be done that night, and he
wished me to join the party. By what fell from this man,
I made no doubt his design was to turn pirate, after he had
sold the flour then in the Ida. I encouraged him to go on,
and we drank together, until he let me into his whole plan.
The scheme was to come on board the schooner, after the
crew had turned in, to fasten all hands below, set the foresail
and jib, and run out with the land-breeze; a thing that was
feasible enough, considering there is never any watch kept
in merchant-vessels that lie at wharves.
After a long talk, I consented to join the enterprise, and
agreed to be, at nine o'clock, on board the Telegraph, a
Philadelphia ship, outside of which our schooner lay. This
vessel had a crew of blacks, and, as most of them were then
ashore, it was supposed many would not return to her that
night. My conspirator observed—“the Yankees that belong
to the schooner are up yonder in the garden, and will
be half drunk, so they will all be sound asleep, and can
intention of hurting any of us, but merely to run away with
us, and sell the craft from under us. We parted with a
clear understanding of the manner in which everything was
to be done.
I know no other reason why this man chose to select me
for his companion in such an adventure, than the circumstance
that I happened to be alone, and perhaps I may have
looked a little under the weather. He was no sooner gone,
however, than I managed to get near my shipmates, and to
call them out of the garden, one by one. As we went
away, I told them all that had happened, and we laid our
counter-plot. When we reached the Telegraph, it was near
night, and finding only two of the blacks on board her, we
let them into the secret, and they joined us, heart and hand.
We got something to drink, as a matter of course, and tried
to pass the time as well as we could, until the hour for
springing the mine should arrive.
Pretty punctually to the hour, we heard footsteps on the
quay, and then a gang of men stopped alongside of the ship.
We stowed ourselves under the bulwarks, and presently the
gentlemen came on board, one by one. The negroes were
too impatient, however, springing out upon their prey a little
too soon. We secured three of the rascals, but two escaped
us, by jumping down upon the quay and running. Considering
we were all captains, this was doing pretty well.
Our three chaps were Englishmen, and I make no doubt
belonged to the frigate, as stated. As soon as they were
fairly pinned, and they understood there was no officer
among us, they began to beg. They said their lives would
be forfeited if we gave them up, and they entreated us to let
them go. We kept them about half an hour, and finally
yielded to their solicitations, giving them their liberty again.
They were very thankful for their escape, especially as I
told them what had passed between myself and the man in
the garden. This fellow was one of the two that escaped,
and had the appearance of a man who might very well become
a leader among pirates.
The next day the two men-of-war went to sea, and I
make no doubt carried off the intended pirates in them. As
for us seamen, we never told our own officers anything
after letting the scoundrels go. One scarcely knows what
to do in such a case, as one does not like to be the means
of getting a fellow-creature hanged, or of letting a rogue escape.
A pirate, of all scoundrels, deserves no mercy, and
yet Jack does not relish the idea of being a sort of Jack
Ketch, neither. If the thing were to be done over again, I
think I should hold on to my prisoners.
We discharged our cargo of flour, and failing in the attempt
to sell the schooner, we took in dye-wood, and returned
to New York. I now made a serious attempt to
alter my mode of living, and to try to get up a few rounds
of the great ladder of life. Hitherto, I had felt a singular
indifference whether I went to sea as an officer, or as a
foremast Jack, with the exception of the time I had a marriage
with Sarah in view. But I was now drawing near to
thirty, and if anything was to be done, it must be done at
once. Looking about me, I found a brig called the Hippomenes,
bound to Gibraltar, and back. I shipped before the
mast, but kept a reckoning, and did all I could to qualify
myself to become an officer. We had a winter passage out,
but a pleasant one home. Nothing worthy of being recorded,
however, occurred. I still continued to be tolerably
correct, and after a short stay on shore, I shipped in the
Belle Savage, commanded by one of the liberated Halifax
prisoners, who had come home in the Swede, at the time of
my own return. This person agreed to take me as chief
mate, and I shipped accordingly. The Belle Savage was a
regular Curacçoa trader, and we sailed ten or twelve days
after the Hippomenes got in. Our passages both ways were
pleasant and safe, and I stuck by the craft, endeavouring to
be less thoughtless and careless about myself. I cannot
say, however, I had any very serious plans for making
provision for old age, my maxim being to live as I went
along.
Our second passage out to Curaçoa, in the Belle Savage,
was pleasant, and brought about nothing worthy of being
mentioned. At Curaçoa we took in mahogany, and in so
doing a particularly large log got away from us, and slid,
end on, against the side of the vessel. We saw no consequences
at the time, and went on to fill up, with different
some passengers, among whom was a Jew merchant, who
had a considerable amount of money on board. When
ready, we sailed, being thirty souls in all, crew and passengers
included.
The Belle Savage had cleared the islands, and was standing
on her course, one day, with a fair wind and a five or
six knot breeze, under a fore-top-mast studding-sail, everything
looking bright and prosperous. The brig must have
been about a day's run to the southward of Bermuda. It
was my watch below, but having just breakfasted, I was on
deck, and looking about me carelessly, I was struck with
the appearance of the vessel's being deeper than common.
I had a little conversation about it, with a man in the forechains,
who thought the same thing. This man leaned over,
in order to get a better look, when he called out that he
could see that we had started a butt! I went over, immediately,
and got a look at this serious injury. A butt had
started, sure enough, just under the chains, but so low down
as to be quite out of our reach. The plank had started
quite an inch, and it was loosened as much as two feet,
forward and aft. We sounded the pumps, as soon as possible,
and found the brig was half full of water!
All hands were now called to get both the boats afloat,
and there was certainly no time to be lost. The water rose
over the cabin-floor while we were doing it. We did not
stand to get up tackles, but cut away the rail and launched
the long-boat by hand. We got the passengers, men, women,
children, and servants into her, as fast as possible, and
followed ourselves. Fortunately, there had been a brig in
company for some time, and she was now less than two
leagues ahead of us, outsailing the Belle Savage a little. We
had hoisted our ensign, union down, as a signal of distress,
and well knew she must see that our craft had sunk, after
it happened, if she did not observe our ensign. She perceived
the signal, however, and could not fail to notice the
manner in which the brig was all adrift, as soon as we deserted
the helm. The strange brig had hauled up for us,
even before we got out the launch. This rendered any supply
of food or water unnecessary, and we were soon ready
to shove off. I was in the small boat, with three men. We
craft with saddened eyes. Even the gold, that precious dust
which lures so many souls to eternal perdition, was abandoned
in the hurry to save the remnants of lives to be passed
on earth. The Belle Savage settled quite slowly into the
ocean, one sail disappearing after another, her main-royal
being the last thing that went out of sight, looking like the
lug of a man-of-war's boat on the water. It is a solemn
thing to see a craft thus swallowed up in the great vortex
of the ocean.
The brig in sight proved to be the Mary, of New York,
from St. Thomas, bound home. She received us kindly,
and six days later landed us all at no great distance from
Fulton Market. When my foot touched the wharf, my
whole estate was under my hat, and my pockets were as
empty as a vessel with a swept hold. On the wharf, itself,
I saw a man who had been second-mate of the Tontine, the
little ship in which I had sailed when I first ran from the
Sterling. He was now master of a brig called the Mechanic,
that was loading near by, for Trinidad de Cuba. He
heard my story, and shipped me on the spot, at nine dollars
a month, as a forward hand. I began to think I was born
to bad luck, and being almost naked, was in nowise particular
what became of me. I had not the means of getting
a mate's outfit, though I might possibly have got credit; but
at no period of my life did I run in debt. Here, then, my
craft got stern-way on her again, and I had a long bit of
rough water to go over.
The Mechanic sailed four or five days after the Mary
arrived, and I travelled the old road over again. Nothing
happened until we got to the southward of Cuba. But my
bad luck had thrown me into the West India trade at the
very moment when piracy was coming to its height in those
seas, though I never thought on the subject at all. Off the
Isle of Pines, one morning, we made a schooner and a sloop,
inshore of us, and both bore up in chase. We knew them
to be pirates, and crowded sail dead before the wind to get
clear. The captain determined, if necessary, to run down
as far as Jamaica, where he expected to fall in with some
of the English cruisers. The schooner sailed very fast, and
was for coming up with us, but they made the mistake of
we dropped her. It was thought in our brig, that the little
craft buried too much, with such a pressure aloft. The
chase lasted all day, a Sunday, and a part of the night; but
the following morning nothing was to be seen of either of
our pursuers. Our captain, whose name was Ray, thought
he knew who commanded the schooner, a man who had
been his enemy, and it was believed the pirates knew our
brig, as she was a regular trader to Trinidad. This made
our captain more ticklish, and was the reason he was off so
soon.
When we found the coast clear, we hauled up, again, and
made our port without further molestation. The chase was
so common a thing, that little was said about the affair. We
discharged, took in a new cargo, and sailed for home in due
time. Care was had in sailing at an early hour, and we sent
a boat out to look if the coast were clear, before we put to
sea. We met with no interruption, however, reaching New
York in due time.
Captain Ray was desirous I should stick by the brig; but,
for some reason I cannot explain, I felt averse to returning
to Trinidad. I liked the vessel well enough, was fond of
the captain, and thought little of the pirates; and yet I felt
an unaccountable reluctance to re-shipping in the craft. It
was well I had this feeling, for, I have since heard, this very
schooner got the brig the next passage out, murdered all
hands, and burnt the vessel, in sight of the port! I set this
escape down, as one of the many unmerited favours I have
received from Providence.
My next berth was that of second-mate on board a new
ship, in the Charleston trade, called the Franklin. I made
the voyage, and, for a novelty, did not run in the southern
port, which was a rare circumstance in that place.
I got but twelve dollars, as dickey, in the Franklin, and
left her to get twenty, with the same berth, on board a ship
called the Foster, commanded by the same master as had
commanded the Jane, in my former voyage to Ireland.
The Foster was bound to Belfast, which port we reached
without any accident. We took in salt, and a few boxes of
linens, for Norfolk; arrived safe, discharged, and went up
the James river to City Point, after a cargo of tobacco.
quantity of gin to New York, and this gin caused me some
trouble. We had a tremendous passage home—one of the
worst I ever experienced at sea. The ship's rudder got
loose, and was secured with difficulty. We had to reef all
three of our top-masts, also, to save the spars; after which
we could only carry double-reefed topsails. It was in the
dead of winter, and the winds hung to the westward for a
long time. The cook, a surly negro, was slack in duty, and
refused to make scous for us, though there were plenty of
potatoes on board. All the people but five were off duty,
and it came hard on those who kept watch. We determined,
at length, to bring the black to his senses, and I had him
seized to the windlass. Everybody but the captain took
three clips at him; the fellow being regularly cobbed, according
to sea usage. This was lawful punishment for a cook.
We got our scous after this, but the negro logged the
whole transaction, as one may suppose. He was particularly
set against me, as I had been ringleader in the cobbing.
The weather continued bad, the watches were much fagged,
and the ship gave no grog. At length I could stand it no
longer, or thought I could not; and I led down betwixt decks,
tapped a cask of gin, introduced the stem of a clean pipe,
and took a nip at the bowl. All my watch smoked this pipe
pretty regularly, first at one cask and then at another, until
we got into port. The larboard watch did the same, and I
do think the strong liquor helped us along that time. As
bad luck would have it, the cook's wood was stowed among
the casks, and, one morning, just as the last of us had
knocked off smoking, we saw the wool of this gentleman
heaving in sight, through the hatch by which we went down.
Still, nothing was said until we came to be paid off, when
the darky came out with his yarn. I owned it all, and insisted
we never could have brought the ship in, unless we
had got the gin. I do believe both captain and owner were
sorry we had been complained of, but they could not overlook
the matter. I was mulcted five-and-twenty dollars, and
left the ship. I know I did wrong, and I know that the
owners did what was right; but I cannot help thinking, bad
as gin is on a long pull, that this did us good. I was not
driven from the ship; on the contrary, both master and
quitted their employment.
That I did not carry a very bad character away with me,
is to be proved by the fact that I shipped, the same day, on
board the Washington, a vessel bound to London, and which
lay directly alongside of the Foster. I had the same berth
as that I had just left, with the advantage of getting better
wages. This voyage carried me to London for the first time
since I left it in the Sterling. Too many years had elapsed,
in the interval, for me to find any old acquaintances; and I
had grown from a boy to a man. Here I got a little insight
into the business of carrying passengers, our ship bringing
more or less, each passage. I stuck by the Washington a
year, making no less than three voyages in her; the last, as
her chief mate. Nothing occurred worth mentioning in the
four first passages across the Atlantic; but the fifth produced
a little more variety.
The Washington had proved to be a leaky ship, every
passage I made in her. We had docked her twice in London,
and it had done her good. The first week out, on the
fifth passage, the ship proved tight, but the weather was moderate.
It came on to blow heavily, however, when we got
to the eastward of the Banks; and the vessel, which was
scudding under her close-reefed main-topsail and foresail,
laboured so much, that I became uneasy. I knew she was
overloaded, and was afraid of the effects of a gale. It was
my practice to keep one pump ready for sounding the wells,
and I never neglected this duty in my watch. When the
gale was at the height, in my forenoon's watch below, I felt
so uncomfortable, that I turned out and went on deck, in nothing
but my trowsers, to sound, although I had sounded less
than two hours before, and found the water at the sucking-height,
only. To my surprise, it was now three feet!
This change was so great and so sudden, all of us thought
there must be some mistake. I carried the rod below, to dry
it, and covered the lower part with ashes. I could not have
been busy in drying the rod more than ten or fifteen minutes,
when it was lowered again. The water had risen several
inches in that short period!
All this looked very serious; and I began to think a third
craft was to founder under me. After a short consultation,
hauled up, the men got into the rigging to keep clear of the
seas, and the vessel was rounded-to. We then knocked
away the wash-boards in the wake of the two hatches, and
began to tumble the barrels of turpentine on deck. I never
felt so strong in my life, nor did so much work in so short a
time. During the labour I went below to splice the main-brace,
and, after putting a second-mate's nip of brandy into my
glass, filled it, as I supposed, with water, drinking it all down
without stopping to breathe. It turned out that my water
was high-proof gin; yet this draught had no more effect on
me than if it had been so much cold water. In ordinary
times, it would have made me roaring drunk.
We tumbled up all the cargo from betwixt decks, landing
it on deck, where it rolled into the sea of itself, and were
about to begin upon the lower hold, when the captain called
out avast, as the pumps gained fast. Half an hour later,
they sucked. This was joyful news, indeed, for I had begun
to think we should be driven to the boats. Among the
cargo were some pickled calf-skins. In the height of the
danger I caught the cook knocking the head out of a cask,
and stowing some of the skins in a tub. Asking the reason
why he did this, he told me he wanted to take some of those
fine skins home with him! It was a pity they should be
lost!
As soon as the pumps sucked, the ship was kept away to
her course, and she proved to be as tight as a bottle. Eight
or ten days later, while running on our course under studding-sails,
we made a large vessel ahead, going before the
wind like ourselves, but carrying reefed topsails, with top-gallant-sails
over them, and her ensign whipped. Of course
we neared her fast, and as we came up with her, saw that
she was full of men, and that her crew were pumping and
bailing. We knew how to pity the poor fellows, and running
alongside, demanded the news. We were answered
first with three cheers, after which we heard their story.
The vessel was an English bark, full of soldiers, bound
to New Brunswick. She had sprung a leak, like ourselves,
and was only kept afloat by constant pumping and bailing.
She had put back for England on account of the wind and
the distance. Our captain was asked to keep near the transport,
and nights the two vessels ran side by side, within hail;
our passengers and officers drinking to theirs, and vice versâ,
at dinner. On the fourth day, the weather being fine, the
wind fair, and our reckoning making us near the channel,
we told the Englishman we would run ahead, make the land,
and heave-to. We stood in so far that the poor fellows
owned afterwards they thought we had left them. This was
not our intention, however, for we no sooner made the land
than we hauled up, and brought them the joyful news of its
vicinity. They cheered us again, as we closed with them,
and both ships jogged on in company.
Next morning, being well in with the land, and many
vessels in sight, the Englishmen desired us to make sail, as
they could carry their bark into Falmouth. We did so,
and reached London, in due time. On our return to New
York, the Washington was sold, and I lost my preferment
in that employment, though I went with a character to another
vessel, and got the same berth.
| CHAPTER XII. Ned Myers, or, A life before the mast | |