23. CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SECOND NIGHT OFF PAPEETEE.
Toward sunset, the mate came off, singing merrily, in the
stern of his boat; and in attempting to climb up the side, succeeded
in going plump into the water. He was rescued by the
steward, and carried across the deck with many moving expressions
of love for his bearer. Tumbled into the quarterboat,
he soon fell asleep, and waking about midnight, somewhat
sobered, went forward among the men. Here, to prepare
for what follows, we must leave him for a moment.
It was now plain enough, that Jermin was by no means unwilling
to take the Julia to sea; indeed, there was nothing he
so much desired; though what his reasons were, seeing our
situation, we could only conjecture. Nevertheless, so it was;
and having counted much upon his rough popularity with the
men to reconcile them to a short cruise under him, he had
consequently been disappointed in their behavior. Still, thinking
that they would take a different view of the matter, when
they came to know what fine times he had in store for them, he
resolved upon trying a little persuasion.
So on going forward, he put his head down the forecastle
scuttle, and hailed us all quite cordially, inviting us down into
the cabin; where, he said, he had something to make merry
withal. Nothing loth, we went; and throwing ourselves along
the transom, waited for the steward to serve us.
As the can circulated, Jermin, leaning on the table and occupying
the captain's arm-chair secured to the deck, opened his
mind as bluntly and freely as ever. He was by no means yet
sober.
He told us we were acting very foolishly; that if we only
stuck to the ship, he would lead us all a jovial life of it; enumerating
the casks still remaining untapped in the Julia's
wooden cellar. It was even hinted vaguely, that such a thing
might happen as our not coming back for the captain; whom he
spoke of but lightly; asserting, what he had often said before,
that he was no sailor.
Moreover, and perhaps with special reference to Doctor
Long Ghost and myself, he assured us generally, that if there
were any among us studiously inclined, he would take great
pleasure in teaching such the whole art and mystery of navigation,
including the gratuitous use of his quadrant.
I should have mentioned, that previous to this, he had taken
the doctor aside, and said something about reinstating him in
the cabin with augmented dignity; beside throwing out a hint,
that I myself, was in some way or other to be promoted. But
it was all to no purpose; bent the men were upon going ashore,
and there was no moving them.
At last he flew into a rage—much increased by the frequency
of his potations—and with many imprecations, concluded by
driving every body out of the cabin. We tumbled up the gangway
in high good-humor.
Upon deck every thing looked so quiet, that some of the most
pugnacious spirits actually lamented that there was so little
prospect of an exhilarating disturbance before morning. It was
not five minutes, however, ere these fellows were gratified.
Sydney Ben—said to be a runaway Ticket-of-Leave-Man,[8]
and for reasons of his own, one of the few who still remained
on duty—had, for the sake of the fun, gone down with the rest
into the cabin; where Bembo, who meanwhile was left in charge
of the deck, had frequently called out for him. At first, Ben
pretended not to hear; but on being sung out for again and
again, bluntly refused; at the same time, casting some illiberal
reflections on the Mowree's maternal origin, which the latter
had been long enough among sailors to understand as in the
highest degree offensive. So just after the men came up from
below, Bembo singled him out, and gave him such a cursing in
his broken lingo, that it was enough to frighten one. The
convict was the worse for liquor; indeed the Mowree had been
tippling also, and before we knew it, a blow was struck by
Ben, and the two men came together like magnets.
The Ticket-of-Leave-Man was a practiced bruiser; but the
savage knew nothing of the art pugilistic: and so they were
even. It was clear hugging and wrenching till both came to
the deck. Here they rolled over and over in the middle of a
ring which seemed to form of itself. At last the white man's
head fell back, and his face grew purple. Bembo's teeth were
at his throat. Rushing in all round, they hauled the savage off,
but not until repeatedly struck on the head would he let go.
His rage was now absolutely demoniac; he lay glaring, and
writhing on the deck, without attempting to rise. Cowed, as
they supposed he was, from his attitude, the men, rejoiced at
seeing him thus humbled, left him; after rating him in sailor
style, for a cannibal and a coward.
Ben was attended to, and led below.
Soon after this, the rest also, with but few exceptions, retired
into the forecastle; and having been up nearly all the previous
night, they quickly dropped about the chests and rolled into
the hammocks. In an hour's time, not a sound could be heard
in that part of the ship.
Before Bembo was dragged away, the mate had in vain
endeavored to separate the combatants, repeatedly striking the
Mowree; but the seamen interposing, at last kept him off.
And intoxicated as he was, when they dispersed, he knew
enough to charge the steward—a steady seaman be it remembered—with
the present safety of the ship; and then went below,
where he fell directly into another drunken sleep.
Having remained upon deck with the doctor some time after
the rest had gone below, I was just on the point of following
him down, when I saw the Mowree rise, draw a bucket of
water, and holding it high above his head, pour its contents
right over him. This he repeated several times. There was
nothing very peculiar in the act, but something else about him
struck me. However, I thought no more of it, but descended
the scuttle.
After a restless nap, I found the atmosphere of the forecastle
so close, from nearly all the men being down at the same time,
that I hunted up an old pea-jacket and went on deck; intending
to sleep it out there till morning. Here I found the cook and
steward, Wymontoo, Rope Yarn, and the Dane; who, being
all quiet, manageable fellows, and holding aloof from the rest
since the captain's departure, had been ordered by the mate
not to go below until sunrise. They were lying under the lee
of the bulwarks; two or three fast asleep, and the others smoking
their pipes, and conversing.
To my surprise, Bembo was at the helm; but there being so
few to stand there now, they told me, he had offered to take his
turn with the rest, at the same time heading the watch; and to
this, of course, they made no objection.
It was a fine, bright night; all moon and stars, and white
crests of waves. The breeze was light, but freshening; and
close hauled, poor little Jule, as if nothing had happened, was
heading in for the land, which rose high and hazy in the
distance.
After the day's uproar, the tranquillity of the scene was
soothing, and I leaned over the side to enjoy it.
More than ever did I now lament my situation—but it was
useless to repine, and I could not upbraid myself. So at last,
becoming drowsy, I made a bed with my jacket under the
windlass, and tried to forget myself.
How long I lay there, I can not tell; but as I rose, the first
object that met my eye, was Bembo at the helm; his dark
figure slowly rising and falling with the ship's motion against
the spangled heavens behind. He seemed all impatience and
expectation; standing at arm's length from the spokes, with
one foot advanced, and his bare head thrust forward. Where
I was, the watch were out of sight; and no one else was stirring;
the deserted decks and broad white sails were gleaming in the
moonlight.
Presently, a swelling, dashing sound came upon my ear, and
I had a sort of vague consciousness that I had been hearing it
before. The next instant I was broad awake and on my feet.
Right ahead, and so near that my heart stood still, was a long
line of breakers, heaving and frothing. It was the coral reef,
girdling the island. Behind it, and almost casting their shadows
upon the deck, were the sleeping mountains, about whose hazy
peaks the gray dawn was just breaking. The breeze had
freshened, and with a steady, gliding motion, we were running
straight for the reef.
All was taken in at a glance; the fell purpose of Bembo was
obvious, and with a frenzied shout to wake the watch, I rushed
aft. They sprang to their feet bewildered; and after a short,
but desperate scuffle, we tore him from the helm. In wrestling
with him, the wheel—left for a moment unguarded—flew to
leeward, thus, fortunately, bringing the ship's head to the wind,
and so retarding her progress. Previous to this, she had been
kept three or four points free, so as to close with the breakers.
Her headway now shortened, I steadied the helm, keeping the
sails just lifting, while we glided obliquely toward the land. To
have run off before the wind—an easy thing—would have been
almost instant destruction, owing to a curve of the reef in that
direction. At this time, the Dane and the steward were still
struggling with the furious Mowree, and the others were running
about irresolute and shouting.
But darting forward the instant I had the helm, the old cook
thundered on the forecastle with a handspike, “Breakers!
breakers close aboard!—'bout ship! 'bout ship!”
Up came the sailors, staring about them in stupid horror.
“Haul back the head-yards!” “Let go the lee fore-brace!”
“Ready about! about!” were now shouted on all sides; while
distracted by a thousand orders, they ran hither and thither,
fairly panic-stricken.
It seemed all over with us; and I was just upon the point
of throwing the ship full into the wind (a step, which, saving
us for the instant, would have sealed our fate in the end),
when a sharp cry shot by my ear like the flight of an arrow.
It was Salem: “All ready for'ard; hard down!”
Round and round went the spokes—the Julia, with her short
keel, spinning to windward like a top. Soon, the jib-sheets
lashed the stays, and the men, more self-possessed, flew to the
braces.
“Main-sail haul!” was now heard, as the fresh breeze streamed
fore and aft the deck; and directly the after-yards were
whirled round.
In half-a-minute more, we were sailing away from the land
on the other tack, with every sail distended.
Turning on our heel within little more than a biscuit's toss
of the reef, no earthly power could have saved us, were it not
that, up to the very brink of the coral rampart, there are no
soundings.
