The Australian Emigrant/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
We shall leave the passengers of the "Big Ann" to get over their sea sickness as best they can, whilst we return for a time to Mr. Raymond's cottage.
A few weeks have passed since Hugh's departure—it was evening—the little parlour was occupied by the father and his two daughters. Many conjectures and guesses were being made as to the exact latitude the "Big Ann" had reached. Mr. Raymond was appealed to, and unrolling a well-thumbed chart, pointed out the very spot where he had no doubt he might at that moment be found—rather a bold assertion for an old navigator to make; but it had the effect intended, for the sisters pictured, in their simplicity, the delight Hugh would experience on the morrow when he sighted the Canary Islands.
"Do you know," said Annie Baymond, after a short pause in the conversation, "Hugh has been away only a few weeks, and Amy Leslie has asked me, very often, if we have heard from him. I think she loves him nearly as well as we do."
"Before Hugh left us," said Kate, "she said his pride made him leave England, and that she feared because he was poor he fancied himself not so worthy of her regard; but that for her part, she should never marry for the sake of money. I told Hugh, and he said his mind was made up to go abroad; but that had he known exactly the state of Amy's affections earlier, it might have delayed his coming to such a decided resolution. — 'It would have been a great temptation for me to have remained in England' he said, 'for Amy is wealthy: she is a good, affectionate girl, and I was always fond of her; and I must confess, now that I am going to leave you all, that I feel more love for her than friendship. But then I am poor and proud: I will become more her equal in wealth than I am at present; and I will not sell my independence even when inclination most strongly tempts me.'"
Hugh fancied himself a philosopher: he had no idea that a love of adventure, and the gratification of a naturally roving disposition, went hand in hand with a spirit of independence, and urged him to take the step he did. Thrown together as Miss Leslie and he had been from early life, it is hardly surprising that an attachment existed between them. It had grown so imperceptibly, that Hugh had never directly spoken of love until they were on the point of parting; then he told her he should return to England in four years, and hoped to find her the same dear girl he was leaving. Promises to correspond passed on both sides, and so the lovers parted.
There is a great sameness in all long voyages, and it is not our intention to bore the reader with a nautical log, but merely to record the most interesting events which befell the "Big Ann" and some of her passengers.—She was three weeks out of Plymouth—the Bay of Biscay passed—sea sickness had disappeared, and every thing on board went on in a regular routine. She had experienced fine weather and fair breezes. Hugh found his companions, with a few exceptions, agreeable and well-bred men. A case of sickness was reported in the steerage, and the "doctor" (every man of physic soon attains his degree on board ship) pronounced it typhus. The sick man grew worse and worse. He was brought on deck, where an awning was spread over him, and every attention possible was paid to the poor sufferer, but he died in a few days in the arms of his wife and daughter, leaving them without a protector.
The friends of the deceased, who was an Irish Catholic, would not allow the Protestant Chaplain on board to read prayers over the body. The day he died he was buried. The sun shone down brightly and the water was calm, clear, and deeply blue. Not a word was uttered as the corpse was brought to the gangway sewn in canvass and laid on a grating, with the union jack for a pall. A common sympathy for death seemed to unite all, both Catholics and Protestants, then. The crew and passengers stood uncovered at the ship's side. A gesture was the only signal given, and the corpse slid from the grating and faded into "the remarkable silence of the grave," amid the unuttered prayers and ill-suppressed sobs of the mourners.
Having sighted the Cape de Verde and several other Islands, all went on prosperously until they neared the Cape of Good Hope. The wind had increased greatly during the day, and sail after sail had been taken in, and others reefed, until only a very little canvass remained set. The sea was rising, and there was every indication of the continuance of foul weather. Now arose the first gale of wind experienced since leaving port. The sailors talked of the "Flying Dutchman" as they cowered under any thing which afforded the least shelter. The carpenter was ordered to batten down the hatches, as the water was streaming down below from every wave that broke over the deck, which now frequently happened. The sky was obscured by heavy clouds which flew before the gale. Large masses of vapour rose to windward and broke into various and fantastic forms, presenting rich food to a fanciful imagination. A sea swept the cook's caboose and a portion of the bulwarks away together, and the probabilities of any cooked food for some days seemed very slight. The vessel was running before the wind and sea: it was now too late to permit her being hove to, and she sped wildly forward upon her course: three seamen were at the wheel, and it required their united efforts to prevent the "Big Ann" from broaching to. She rolled tremendously, her timbers creaked, and her whole frame trembled beneath the combined influence of the elements. A shriek of fear from those below was occasionally heard above the din of the storm: there were few of them who did not think that they were in extremis, and every shock the vessel sustained was the signal for a fresh outcry. The gale continued with unabated fury, and Hugh and his companions lay down in their clothes anxiously waiting for the morning. About three o'clock the vessel gave some tremendous lurches, and every article in the cabin seemed imbued with instant life—chests, boxes, tins, mess-water kegs, and some few articles of crockery were smashed against each other—"up the middle and back again;" and in the midst of the uproar, the fastenings of the port which was over Hugh's berth gave way, and a torrent of water dashed into the cabin. Hugh endeavoured to close the opening but it was useless, and in a short time the floor and those who occupied it were completely flooded. The higher tier of sleepers were more fortunate, and from Slinger's bunk something like a snore might have been heard but for the din of the storm. The carpenter succeeded in closing the port effectually without disturbing Slinger.—"Well" he said, looking at him, "perhaps that man aint a whole team of himself at a nap."
Hugh followed the carpenter and contrived to reach the hatchway after scrambling over all sorts of impediments, for every thing seemed to have changed places. He had scarcely got his head above the level of the deck, when there was a cry that the rudder band had got foul or broken, and that the vessel would not steer. The grandeur of the scene at this moment made him nearly overlook the perils which surrounded him. The sky was clearer, and as he steadied himself, he could see the long seas rolling after the ship in endless succession; their crested tops blown into spray by the fury of the wind, which literally screeched through the rigging. The mainsail split with a great noise, and in a few moments was lashed into shreds. The captain was on deck, his white hair streaming in the wind, but he stood calm and collected, giving directions to secure the rudder again: the vessel then broached to. She rode easier for a moment, and then settled in a trough of the sea. A tremendous wave struck her as Hugh was descending the hatchway, and he heard the captain shout "Hold on, my lads—for your lives." Then followed a shock as if every timber of the vessel was being wrenched asunder, and a flood of water swept Hugh off his legs, and left him on the floor of the intermediate saloon, where he rolled about almost as helpless as the numerous articles which the storm had torn from their fastenings: he succeeded in getting again on his legs, and scrambling to the deck, reached the captain's side, who roared his commands through a trumpet, as the ship lay over apparently unlikely to right again. "Now is the time—lay hold on that rope," said the skipper to Hugh, and with "a long pull, and a strong pull," the rudder band was cleared. —The captain seized the wheel, and in a few moments the "Big Ann" rode over the seas in comparative ease. The water below was rushing from side to side as if seeking for an exit—the lower (and wet) berths had been tenantless for some time, their late occupiers having relinquished them in favor of the dry dining table. The mate now informed the passengers that every thing was right again, and the gale not increasing.
"I say, Mr. Moriarty," said Slinger, "this bunk of mine aint the most uncomfortable six feet by two and a half in the ship. Suppose you make my compliments to the poor old captain, who has been washed out from below, and tell him (as he is rather spare) that if he will promise to lay only on his side I'll let him stow with me." The mate executed Slinger's request, and presently the captain squeezed himself into Slinger's berth. "Close stowage, captain," he said, "but never mind—are you fond of music?" and Slinger, without waiting for an answer, pulled a small flute from under his mattress, sat himself upon the edge of his bunk, and played several lively airs.—"Pretty, aint it, cap'n." "Beautiful," replied he, as he wiped his lips after withdrawing them from the mouth of a black bottle.—"Are you fond of grog, Slinger?" "Certainly, in moderation," was the answer.
"Well, then, take a moderate swig out of my bottle.—"When I was in the Peninsula .."
"No," interrupted Slinger, "no: thank you: I can't stand a yarn now; but I'll drink your health with all my heart."
Having gone through this interesting ceremony, the cork was secured, and the captain again placed the bottle safely underneath his head and soon fell asleep.
Hugh now came below and was hailed by Slinger, who set to work rumaging his wearing apparel from under the mattress, and so disturbed the old captain, who, however, only admonished him to "take care of the bottle," and fell a snoring again. "There!" said Slinger," as he reached the floor, "you jump into my warm place: you must have been up nearly all night." Hugh did not hesitate, but insinuated himself by degrees into Slinger's old quarters.
"I was woke up," said Slinger, "by the rolling of the ship, and those noisy rascals in the steerage kept me awake for a bit.— Only listen! do you hear that fellow singing 'My ship is my boast and my home's the wild main?' he was at prayers not very long ago, but now that he has swallowed all his week's allowance of grog, he's grown quite valiant:—by Jove I'll leave you to sleep, and I'll see if there is not some fun to be got out of him." Saying which, the flute was again put into requisition, and Hugh fell asleep with a vague idea that somebody was dancing something like a sailor's hornpipe in the next cabin.
The gale "blew itself out," to use a nautical expression, in three days, and was succeeded by several weeks of fine weather, during which time the chief amusements of the passengers were catching albatrosses with a hook baited with pork, and shooting the pretty little Cape pigeons which abound in most parts of the southern ocean. Thousands of miles from land these little rovers are observed following the ship for days together, with their gigantic companions the albatrosses, picking up any scraps of meat which happen to be cast overboard. Several whales were also seen in these latitudes.
At length the "Big Ann" entered Bass' Straits—four months after leaving England, and many were the congratulations which passed at the anticipated speedy termination of the voyage; for another week would probably see them in Port Philip; but that evening a contrary wind blew, and that very strongly. The vessel was hove to for the night, and the passengers were again in tribulation: not without reason; for, at the time we write, the navigation of Bass' Straits was but imperfectly known.
Wilson's promontory is a large tract of land on the south coast of New Holland, and the most southerly point of that large island; it runs upwards of sixty miles into the sea. The "Big Ann" had drifted far inside the point. In the morning the man at the look out reported high land ahead of the vessel. The wind was blowing directly ashore, and had she kept on the course she was then steering for half an hour longer, she must have been a wreck. She was put about, and every exertion used to beat her off the coast; but, in consequence of shoal water and sand banks, short tacks were obliged to be made, and by the afternoon the most inexperienced eye could perceive that nothing had been gained by the manœuvres. A consultation was held by the officers, and it was decided that nothing could be done but to spread all the sail she could carry, and so endeavour to clear the point. She was very light—much too light to sail well, and as a natural consequence made considerably more lee way than usual. Mean time the steerage passengers had come on deck in great numbers, and, impeding the work, they were ordered below. The hatches were battened down for the second time during the voyage. The ship struggled through the water, leaving a long line of foam to mark her track.
"Does her head lay well outside the point?" cried the captain. "No:" answered the steersman, only just clears it." "Set more sail," shouted the captain: although the masts were bending and straining as if every freshening breeze would have sent them over the side. More sail was set however, and the "Big Ann" lay well outside the point. "If the sticks and the ropes will only do their work for a quarter of an hour longer" whispered Mr. Moriarty to Hugh, "we shall be right." Almost before he had finished speaking, the main-top gallant mast went with a crash, and the vessel fell off a few points. "Are the anchors all ready Mr. Moriarty?" cried the captain, "All clear, Sir" was the answer. "Very good," said the captain, as he took his stand by the wheel: "we have done all we can, Providence must do the rest.—How's her head?" "Well outside the point, now Sir, but she drops off every now and again." Two men were stationed at the hatches with orders to tear them up the moment there was any imminent danger. One of the men sat himself down, put a bit of rope in his mouth and chewed it with all apparent signs of coolness. The passengers were making a great noise below, and he growled out, "Lie quiet, can't ye? isn't it as well to go down quietly as kicking up sich a bobbery?—I'm blest if this aint the last voyage I'll make in an emigrant ship—a slaver's nothing to it." Certainly it did not appear by any means impossible that the present voyage would close Jack's nautical career; for the vessel was within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and she appeared to be nearly surrounded by sand banks; the noise of the waves beating on the rock-bound coast was painfully distinct, and the long unbroken line of foam showed but too clearly the fate which awaited the ship unless the point could be cleared.
"I think," said the captain, after a pause, to the mate, who was steering, "that she's all right this time; ten minutes will decide it." "It's close shaving," said the mate. All on deck felt the peril they were in: none knew it better than the captain and the mate; but they were collected, and gave the few orders requisite with full confidence of their being obeyed, for they were both favourites with the seamen.
Mean time the men stationed at the hatches conversed in whispers, their eyes anxiously directed to the shore. "It's a bad job, I'm afeard" said the latter of the two; "if we strike what'll become of the passengers? — our boats wont hold a quarter on'em." "Strike! be blowed," said the other; "d'ye see, we are almost abreast of the point?" "And do you see," said his companion, "that we could almost chuck a biscuit ashore?"
It was not many minutes before the mate resigned the wheel into the hands of the man from whom he had taken it, he and the captain shook hands heartily, and well they might, for the point was cleared, and the danger left behind; sail was reduced, and then the men were ordered a double allowance of grog.
A fresh hand now came aft to the wheel—"A close shave just now, Bill: eh?", he said.
"Aye: 'twas uncommon—thought of Davy Jones:—a miss is as good as a mile, though; and 'tis an ill wind that blows nobody good:—it's blowed us a double allowance of grog—there's consolation in that. I ony wish 't'ad blowed us some baccy; for I don't think there's a pound in all the ship, cept wot the long passenger's got, and that's pretty nigh spoilt, for its cigars."
"Oh here he comes on deck! just fetch me a wad of hay, will you? and I'll try and torture some compassion out of him."
The passenger referred to now came on the poop. He was a tall high-shouldered man, who stooped a great deal, and wore spectacles. The steersman having been supplied with a wisp of hay, rolled it up tightly, and pushing one end into his cheek he chewed away upon it as if it were his natural food. The passenger walked up and down several times, then lit a cigar, and continued his exercise. It as not until Jack had been seized with several very violent fits of coughing that the object of his exertions bestowed the least attention on him; he then advanced, and noticing some strange and unusual substance protruding from the man's mouth, he wiped his spectacles, and regarding him with amazement for a time, exclaimed, "Why what on earth are you eating my good fellow?"
"Nuffln thir: I'm chawing."
"Chewing what?" said the astonished passenger.—"It is hay!", he said in a positive tone, after a minute examination.
"Yes," said Jack in a melancholy voice, "it is hay, and no mistake—worse luck;" and then he whispered in a very confidential tone, as if the sad fact were a secret to all else on board, "there a'int an ounce of baccy in the ship, Sir."
"Indeed!" said the passenger: "No tobacco, Eh? Could you make shift with a cigar, do you think?"
"Try me," replied Jack, with a knowing wink at his comrade, who was enjoying the success of the trick.
Just at this juncture one of the petty officers came on deck—he was no favourite—and addressing the tall passenger said, "No talking to the man at the wheel, if you please, Sir:" and turning round sharply to the steersman, he exclaimed, "D—e what kind of steering d'ye call this?—where are you taking the vessel to?—what's her course?"
"I'm hard o'hearing," replied Jack.
"I said, where are you taking the ship to?" bawled out the petty officer: "and what course are you steering?"
"Taking her!" said Jack with well assumed surprise, "I'm a taking of her from the port o'London to the port o'Melbourne, and her course is sow west by sow, Sir," said Jack: whose temper was ruffled by the loss of the tobacco which appeared all but in his grasp, or rather between his teeth. The petty officer left the poop, and the tall passenger gave the steersman a couple of cigars.
"Thank you, Sir, kindly" he said, "you'll scarcely believe that I've been redooced to the needcessity of chawing old junk, with straw and hay for wariety's sake, until (here he became quite confidential again) I actilly felt summat going wrong in my breadbasket. — Ah! Sir, it's a fact I'm telling on you," and a melancholy shake of the head confirmed it.
The tall passenger appeared moved at the recital of Jack's utter destitution—"poor fellow!" he said, as he turned away to continue his exercise.
"Before you go," said Jack, "may I be so bould as to ax you, respectfully, o'course, Sir, and not meaning no harm, just to sniggle up the ends o'your cigars in this here little article (handing a steel tobacco box) when you've done with 'em and can't smoke 'em no shorter: perhaps they may hact as a hantidote to the junk."
"No! no!" said the good natured passenger in evident disgust:—"no, I say," as Jack thrust the box into his hand: "I'll give you a cigar now and then instead."
"May you never want baccy, Sir, nor a glas o'grog to wash your mouth with when you've been using it," said Jack, taking a portion of one of the cigars from his mouth and carefully depositing the same in his box. The tall passenger, however, did not take the hint intended, as conveyed in Jack's words and actions.