37. CHAPTER XXXVII.
SOME SUPERIOR OLD “LONDON DOCK” FROM THE WINE-COOLERS
OF NEPTUNE.
We had just slid into pleasant weather, drawing near to
the Tropics, when all hands were thrown into a wonderful
excitement by an event that eloquently appealed to many
palates.
A man at the fore-top-sail-yard sung out that there were
eight or ten dark objects floating on the sea, some three points
off our lee-bow.
“Keep her off three points!” cried Captain Claret, to the
quarter-master at the cun.
And thus, with all our batteries, store-rooms, and five hundred
men, with their baggage, and beds, and provisions, at one
move of a round bit of mahogany, our great-embattled ark
edged away for the strangers, as easily as a boy turns to the
right or left in pursuit of insects in the field.
Directly the man on the top-sail-yard reported the dark objects
to be hogsheads. Instantly all the top-men were straining
their eyes, in delirious expectation of having their long
grog-fast broken at last, and that, too, by what seemed an
almost miraculous intervention. It was a curious circumstance
that, without knowing the contents of the hogsheads,
they yet seemed certain that the staves encompassed the thing
they longed for.
Sail was now shortened, our headway was stopped, and a
cutter was lowered, with orders to tow the fleet of strangers
alongside. The men sprang to their oars with a will, and
soon five goodly puncheons lay wallowing in the sea, just under
the main-chains. We got overboard the slings, and hoisted
them out of the water.
It was a sight that Bacchus and his bacchanals would have
gloated over. Each puncheon was of a deep-green color, so
covered with minute barnacles and shell-fish, and streaming
with sea-weed, that it needed long searching to find out their
bung-holes; they looked like venerable old loggerhead-turtles.
How long they had been tossing about, and making voyages
for the benefit of the flavor of their contents, no one could
tell. In trying to raft them ashore, or on board of some merchant-ship,
they must have drifted off to sea. This we inferred
from the ropes that lengthwise united them, and which,
from one point of view, made them resemble a long sea-serpent.
They were struck into the gun-deck, where the eager
crowd being kept off by sentries, the cooper was called with
his tools.
“Bung up, and bilge free!” he cried, in an ecstasy, flourishing
his driver and hammer.
Upon clearing away the barnacles and moss, a flat sort of
shell-fish was found, closely adhering, like a California-shell,
right over one of the bungs. Doubtless this shell-fish had
there taken up his quarters, and thrown his own body into the
breach, in order the better to preserve the precious contents
of the cask. The by-standers were breathless, when at last
this puncheon was canted over and a tin-pot held to the orifice.
What was to come forth? salt-water or wine? But
a rich purple tide soon settled the question, and the lieutenant
assigned to taste it, with a loud and satisfactory smack of his
lips, pronounced it Port!
“Oporto!” cried Mad Jack, “and no mistake!”
But, to the surprise, grief, and consternation of the sailors,
an order now came from the quarter-deck to “strike the strangers
down into the main-hold!” This proceeding occasioned
all sorts of censorious observations upon the Captain, who, of
course, had authorized it.
It must be related here that, on the passage out from
home, the Neversink had touched at Madeira; and there, as
is often the case with men-of-war, the Commodore and Captain
had laid in a goodly stock of wines for their own private
tables, and the benefit of their foreign visitors. And although
the Commodore was a small, spare man, who evidently emptied
but few glasses, yet Captain Claret was a portly gentleman,
with a crimson face, whose father had fought at the
battle of the Brandywine, and whose brother had commanded
the well-known frigate named in honor of that engagement.
And his whole appearance evinced that Captain Claret himself
had fought many Brandywine battles ashore in honor of
his sire's memory, and commanded in many bloodless Brandywine
actions at sea.
It was therefore with some savor of provocation that the
sailors held forth on the ungenerous conduct of Captain
Claret, in stepping in between them and Providence, as it
were, which by this lucky windfall, they held, seemed bent
upon relieving their necessities; while Captain Claret himself,
with an inexhaustible cellar, emptied his Madeira decanters
at his leisure.
But next day all hands were electrified by the old familiar
sound—so long hushed—of the drum rolling to grog.
After that the port was served out twice a day, till all was
expended.
