Ambrose Fecit, or, The peer and the printer :: :: University of Virginia Library

Archbold knew the sound, and yelling
out “man overboard,” ran aft. I
followed, the ship was brought to, the
deck was in an uproar, lights flew
about, and various articles were tossed
over for buoys. Van Kline came
running toward us, and as I flashed
over him the light of a lantern which
I had taken from one of the men, I noticed
he was deathly pale.

“My God!” he exclaimed, “it must
be the captain. He was aft a few minutes
since, and he didn't pass coming
back.”

The night was dark—it was useless
to attempt to lower boats; we listened,
but could hear no call. After an hour
or so, we resumed our course, the
winds singing through the tops the
dirge of the dead commander.

“Port, hard!” cried Archbold, suddenly.

The man at the wheel, Ben Ward,
mechanically answered, “hard it is,
sir; hard!” the vessel changed her
course, and just at that moment a white
mass sprang out of the darkness, and
shot past our starboard quarter.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Van Kline,”
said Archbold, “but it was touch and
go.”

The man overboard proved really to
have been the captain. It was a fearful
accident, for which no one could
account, and impressed us all sadly.
It seemed to fall on Van Kline with
more force than any one else, and he
appeared to have been more attached
to the captain than we supposed. He
grew pale and trembled excessively
whenever Peabody's name was mentioned,
and used to pace up and down
the deck muttering to himself. I overheard
him once, and the words were:
“Overboard! drowned!” uttered in
the most piteous tone. He took command,
of course, but his habits of life
changed. Hitherto remarkable for his
sobriety, he now drank to excess. The
suddenness of the accident to the captain
had so unsettled his nerves that
he resorted to the bottle to steady
them, and as usual in such cases, used
his remedy too freely. Day by day
this grew worse, and for the last few
days of our voyage, he was scarcely
ever sober after dinner time, the duties
of command devolving upon the new
acting-mate—a very clever young man,
in the American sense of the term but
utterly incapable as a seaman to fill
the position. The crew were very
much disturbed about this, but the new
mate was guided a good deal by Archbold,
in whom the men, through Ben
Ward, had confidence, and as to seamanship,
we got along very well. It
was well, however, the voyage was so
near at an end, since there would have
been a mutiny else. Van Kline, when
sober, that is, during the early part of
the day, was so harsh, capricious, and
tyrannical, that the men gave audible

murmurs of dissatisfaction, and only
submitted because of the prospect of
an early release.

“It is a shame, though, and sing'ler
too,” said Ben Ward to me, in regard
to the new captain. “Mr. Van Kline
never used to drink a drop afore, that
any one knowed on, and what's got into
him, isn't clear, accordin' to my
reckonin'. Maybe his unexpected rise
has oversot him; but I thought he had
more ballast. He 'peared to be stiddy
al'ays. There's one thing certain—if
he's in a drunken fit when a storm
comes up, Sam Perkins aint to be relied
on, and Mr. Archbold 'll have to
turn skipper a spell.”

No storm, however, did come on;
but nevertheless it did so chance that
Archbold had to assume command of
the ship, and a very narrow escape we
had; an escape attributable solely to
the Virginian's nautical education.

It was rather early in the morning;
the breeze was a little fresh, and we
were sailing by the wind, with royals
in. Mr. Archbold had been keeping
reckoning for his own satisfaction, and
he made us farther to the north and
east than Van Kline did. The consequence
was that he was uneasy, and
had kept a sharp look out. There was
a little haziness in the distance, and
land was reported, which Van Kline,
who was standing aft, not recovered
from the previous night's debauch,
thought was Sandy Hook.

“We're many miles from that,” muttered
Archbold to Ward, who was at
the wheel.

Van Kline still stood there, with a
sodden, imbecile look, and overheard
him. He chuckled out his disbelief.
The haze lifted a little, and we heard
the cry forward:

“Breakers on the lee bow.”

Every one looked at Van Kline, who
gave the laugh of a man half silly
from the effects of a previous fit of intoxication,
and said:

“What fool says that, and we twenty
miles west of a sandy beach?”

We could see the breakers plainly
enough, not a dozen lengths from us,
apparently, and we bearing down on
them; but there stood Van Kline, with
an idiotic smile of confidence on his
face. The men moved here and there uneasily,
and some kicked off their shoes.
Archbold sprung to Ward suddenly:

“Stand by me, Ben,” said he. “Ambrose,
look to Van Kline. If he touches
the wheel, or interferes, floor him.”
Then raising his voice, he sung out,
“All hands ahoy, there!”

The men recognized his voice, and
replied with a general “ay! ay!”

“Man the main clew-garnets and
buntlines!” he cried. “Let go the
tack and sheet. Up mainsail!”

The men went to work with a will,
and the mainsail was taken in.

“Jump aft to the spanker brails!”
he continued. “One of you clear away
the sheet! Brail up!”

The spanker was taken in in a hurry.
Archbold turned to Ward:

“Put your helm hard-a-lee!”

“Hard-a-lee it is, sir,” growled Ward.

“Fork's'l there!”

“Sir!”

“Man the weather fore clew garnets!”

“All manned for'd, sir.”

“Let go all your bowlines forward!
Haul up! Lead out the main and cross
jack braces! Let go your bowlines,
and catch a turn with the lee-braces
when the sails shiver. Brace in!”

The wind was thus being taken out

of her after sails, and the pressure that
was driving her to leeward was lessened
evidently.

“Lead out your head braces, and
keep them manned,” continued Archbold.

The sails on the foremast began to
flutter from being pointed in the direction
of the wind, and the ship was
slowly veering round.

“Brace up!” cried he.

The head sails began to catch the
wind and belly out, and Archbold roared
in stentorian tones:

“Man the main and cross braces!
Brace in! Catch a turn at the square
mark. Well that. Belay!”

Turning to Ward, he said:

“Meet her with the helm. Steady
so!”

“Steady it is, sir!” growled old
Ben.

The head sails were now full, and
Archbold gave his orders rapidly, the
men obeying with confident alacrity.

“Lay aft to the braces! Trim the
after yards by the fore. Sharp up!
Belay every inch! Let go your leefore-clew-garnet,
and man the sheet.
Haul aboard! Haul aft all the head-sheets!
Man the main-tack and sheet!
Let go, and overhaul the clew-garnets
and buntlines! Haul aboard! Man
the spanker sheet! Let go the brails!
Haul out!”

The ship was now brought on the
opposite direction, braced sharp up,
with sails set, and leaving the breakers
astern farther every minute.

“Couldn't ha' done it better on old
Ironsides,” said old Ben to me, confidentially.

I knew nothing about that; but I
saw we had been in some danger, and
had escaped from it, and that was quite
enough for me.

We had, as Archbold had reckoned,
got far above Long Island, instead of
below it, and came near being wrecked,
in daylight, and with a fair wind,
on the Rhode Island coast. Not caring
to try the Hell Gate passage, Archbold
changed our course, turned Long
Island, and kept charge until we had
come near enough the Hook to take a
pilot aboard. Van Kline made all
kinds of fierce threats to punish this
mutiny of passengers and crew; but
no one paid the slightest attention to
him, and he went below to drown his
grief and insulted dignity in the bottle.