4. CHAPTER IV.
A SCENE IN THE FORECASTLE.
I had scarcely been aboard of the ship twenty-four hours,
when a circumstance occurred, which, although noways picturesque,
is so significant of the state of affairs, that I can not forbear
relating it.
In the first place, however, it must be known, that among the
crew was a man so excessively ugly, that he went by the ironical
appellation of “Beauty.” He was the ship's carpenter;
and for that reason was sometimes known by his nautical cognomen
of “Chips.” There was no absolute deformity about
the man; he was symmetrically ugly. But ill favored as he
was in person, Beauty was none the less ugly in temper; but
no one could blame him; his countenance had soured his heart.
Now Jermin and Beauty were always at sword's points. The
truth was, the latter was the only man in the ship whom the
mate had never decidedly got the better of; and hence the
grudge he bore him. As for Beauty, he prided himself upon
talking up to the mate, as we shall soon see.
Toward evening there was something to be done on deck
and the carpenter who belonged to the watch was missing
“Where's that skulk, Chips?” shouted Jermin down the fore
castle scuttle.
“Taking his ease, d'ye see, down here on a chest, if you want
to know,” replied that worthy himself, quietly withdrawing his
pipe from his mouth. This insolence flung the fiery little mate
into a mighty rage; but Beauty said nothing, puffing away
with all the tranquillity imaginable. Here it must be remembered
that, never mind what may be the provocation, no prudent
officer ever dreams of entering a ship's forecastle on a
hostile visit. If he wants to see any body who happens to be
there, and refuses to come up, why he must wait patiently
until the sailor is willing. The reason is this. The place is
very dark; and nothing is easier than to knock one descending
on the head, before he knows where he is, and a very long
while before he ever finds out who did it.
Nobody knew this better than Jermin, and so he contented
himself with looking down the scuttle and storming. At last
Beauty made some cool observation which set him half wild.
“Tumble on deck,” he then bellowed—“come, up with you,
or I'll jump down and make you.” The carpenter begged him
to go about it at once.
No sooner said than done: prudence forgotten, Jermin was
there; and by a sort of instinct, had his man by the throat before
he could well see him. One of the men now made a rush
at him, but the rest dragged him off, protesting that they should
have fair play.
“Now, come on deck,” shouted the mate, struggling like a
good fellow to hold the carpenter fast.
“Take me there,” was the dogged answer, and Beauty wriggled
about in the nervous grasp of the other like a couple of
yards of boa-constrictor.
His assailant now undertook to make him up into a compact
bundle, the more easily to transport him. While thus occupied,
Beauty got his arms loose, and threw him over backward.
But Jermin quickly recovered himself, when for a time they
had it every way, dragging each other about, bumping their
heads against the projecting beams, and returning each other's
blows the first favorable opportunity that offered. Unfortunately,
Jermin at last slipped and fell; his foe seating himself on
his chest, and keeping him down. Now this was one of those
situations in which the voice of counsel, or reproof, comes with
peculiar unction. Nor did Beauty let the opportunity slip.
But the mate said nothing in reply, only foaming at the mouth
and struggling to rise.
Just then a thin tremor of a voice was heard from above.
It was the captain; who, happening to ascend to the quarter-deck
at the commencement of the scuffle, would gladly have returned
to the cabin, but was prevented by the fear of ridicule. As the
din increased, and it became evident that his officer was in serious
trouble, he thought it would never do to stand leaning
over the bulwarks, so he made his appearance on the forecastle,
resolved, as his best policy, to treat the matter lightly.
“Why, why,” he began, speaking pettishly, and very fast,
“what's all this about?—Mr. Jermin, Mr. Jermin—carpenter,
carpenter; what are you doing down there? Come on deck;
come on deck.”
Whereupon Doctor Long Ghost cries out in a squeak, “Ah!
Miss Guy, is that you? Now, my dear, go right home, or
you'll get hurt.”
“Pooh, pooh! you, sir, whoever you are, I was not speaking
to you; none of your nonsense. Mr. Jermin, I was talking
to you; have the kindness to come on deck, sir; I want to
see you.”
“And how, in the devil's name, am I to get there?” cried
the mate, furiously. “Jump down here, Captain Guy, and
show yourself a man. Let me up, you Chips! unhand me, I
say! Oh! I'll pay you for this, some day! Come on, Captain
Guy!”
At this appeal, the poor man was seized with a perfect
spasm of fidgets. “Pooh, pooh, carpenter; have done with
your nonsense! Let him up, sir; let him up! Do you hear?
Let Mr. Jermin come on deck!”
“Go along with you, Paper Jack,” replied Beauty; “this
quarrel's between the mate and me; so go aft, where you
belong!”
As the captain once more dipped his head down the scuttle
to make answer, from an unseen hand, he received, full in the
face, the contents of a tin can of soaked biscuit and tealeaves.
The doctor was not far off just then. Without waiting
for any thing more, the discomfited gentleman, with both
hands to his streaming face, retreated to the quarter-deck.
A few moments more, and Jermin, forced to a compromise,
followed after, in his torn frock and scarred face, looking for
all the world as if he had just disentangled himself from some
intricate piece of machinery. For about half an hour both
remained in the cabin, where the mate's rough tones were
heard high above the low, smooth voice of the captain.
Of all his conflicts with the men, this was the first in which
Jermin had been worsted; and he was proportionably enraged.
Upon going below — as the steward afterward told us — he
bluntly informed Guy that, for the future, he might look out
for his ship himself; for his part, he was done with her, if that
was the way he allowed his officers to be treated. After many
high words, the captain finally assured him, that the first fitting
opportunity the carpenter should be cordially flogged; though,
as matters stood, the experiment would be a hazardous one.
Upon this Jermin reluctantly consented to drop the matter for
the present; and he soon drowned all thoughts of it in a can
of flip, which Guy had previously instructed the steward to
prepare, as a sop to allay his wrath.
Nothing more ever came of this.
