Afloat at Last Part 15

This evening, as I felt all right and hearty after my pea-soup and had a good sleep in the afternoon, I remained on deck, although the port watch, to which I belonged, was not on duty, Mr Mackay, who had only stayed on the p.o.o.p to see the topgallants taken in, having at once gone below on this operation being satisfactorily performed.

I was glad I stopped, though; for, presently, Captain Gillespie, ignoring Mr Saunders the second mate, who was now supposed to be in charge of the deck, sang out in his voice of thunder, his nose no doubt shaking terribly the while, albeit I couldn't see it, the evening being too dark and lowering for me even to distinguish plainly that long proboscis of his:

"Hands reef topsails!"

The men, naturally, were even more spry than usual from the fact of "Old Jock" having given the order; so, they were at their posts before the captain could get at his next command.

"Stand by your topsail halliards--let go!"

The yards tumbled down on the caps in an instant as the last word came roaring from Captain Gillespie's lips; and at almost the same moment parties of the men raced up the fore and main and mizzen-shrouds, each lot anxious to have their sail reefed and rehoisted the first.

The foretop men, however, this time, bore away the palm over those attending to the main-topsail; while those on the cro'jack-yard were completely out of the running with only four hands against the fourteen in the other top--although Tom Jerrold was pretty quick again, and if those helping him had been but equally sharp they might, in spite of being short-handed, have achieved the victory.

Urged on by Tim Rooney, though, the men forward were too smart for those aft, and had handed their topsail and were hoisting away at the halliards again before those reefing the main-topsail were all in from their yard. The last man, indeed, was just stepping from the yard into the rigging again, when an accident happened that nearly cost him his life, although fortunately he escaped with only a fall and a fright.

In order to render the work of reefing easier for the hands, the captain had directed the men at the wheel by a quick motion which they understood to "luff her up" a bit, so as to flatten the sails; and now, on the folds of the main-topsail ballooning out before being hoisted again as it caught the wind, the sail flapped back and jerked the unfortunate fellow off the yard, his hands clutching vainly at the empty air.

We could see it all from the p.o.o.p, although the night was darkish, because the whiteness of the sails made everything stand out in relief against their snowy background; and, as he fell, with a shriek that seemed to go through my heart, I held my breath in agonised suspense, expecting the next moment to hear the dull thud of his mangled body on the deck below.

But, in place of this, a second later, a wild hurrah burst from the men at the halliards and from those coming down the rigging, who had remained spellbound, their descending footsteps arrested in the ratlines in awful expectancy and horror. It was a cheer of relief on their anxious fears being dispelled.

I never heard such a hearty shout in my life before, coming, as it did, as if all the men had but one throat!

I seem to hear it now.

"Hurrah!"

It rang through the ship; and we on the p.o.o.p soon saw the reason for the triumphant cry and shared the common feeling of joy.

The main-sail had jibed and then bellied out again in the same way as the topsail above it had done; and when the man fell, a kind Providence watching over him caused it to catch him in its folds, and then gently drop him into the long-boat above the deck-house below, right in the midst of the captain's pigs there stowed--thus breaking his fall, so that he absolutely escaped unhurt, with the exception of a slight shaking and of course a biggish fright at falling.

"Who is the man?" sang out Captain Gillespie as soon as some of the hands had clambered up on top of the deck-house and released their comrade from the companionship of the pigs, who were grunting and squealing at his unexpected descent in their midst. "Who is that man?"

"Joe Fergusson," cried out one of the men. "It's Joe Fergusson, sir."

Captain Gillespie was bothered, thinking he could not hear aright.

"Joe Fergusson?" he called back. "I don't know any man of that name, or anything like it, who signed articles with me, and is entered on the ship's books. Pa.s.s the word forrud for the bosun--where is he?"

"Here, sorr," cried out Tim Rooney, who of course was close at hand, having bounded to the scene of action the moment he heard the man's wild weird shriek as he fell, arriving just in time to see his wonderful escape. "Here I am, sorr."

"Who is the man that fell?"

"Our new hand, sorr."

"New hand?" repeated Captain Gillespie after him, as perplexed as ever.

"What new hand?"

"Joe Fergusson, sorr. Himsilf and no ither, sure, sorr."

"What the d.i.c.kens do ye mean, man?" said the captain, angry at the mystification. "I don't know of any Joe Fergusson or any new hands save those I brought on board myself at Gravesend; and there was no one of that name amongst 'em, I'm certain."

"Aye, aye, thrue for ye, cap'en," answered Tim, and although, of course, I couldn't see him, I'm sure he must have winked when he spoke, there was a tone of such rich jocularity in his voice; "but, sure, sor this is the chap as brought himsilf aboard. He's the stowaway, sorr; Joe Fergusson, by the same token!"

CHAPTER TEN.

CROSSING THE LINE.

"Humph!" grunted Captain Gillespie, astounded by this information.

"That's the joker, is it?"

"Aye, aye, sorr," said Tim Rooney, thinking he was asked the question again as to the other's ident.i.ty; "it's him, sure enough."

"Then I should like to know what the d.i.c.kens he means by such conduct as this? The beggar first comes aboard my ship without my leave or license, and then tries to break his neck by going aloft when n.o.body sent him there!"

"Arrah sure, sorr, the poor chap ownly did it to show his willin'ness to worruk his pa.s.sige, sayin' as how Mr Mackay tould him ye'd blow him up for comin' aboard whin he came-to this arternoon, sorr," pleaded Tim, not perceiving, as I did, that all the captain's anger against the unfortunate stowaway had melted away by this time on learning that he had shown such courage. "Begorra, he would cloimb up the shrouds, sorr, whin ye tould the hands to lay aloft; an' the divil himsilf, sorr, wouldn't 'a stopped him."

"He's a plucky fellow," cried the captain in a much more amiable tone of voice, to Tim's great surprise.

"Send him aft, bosun, and I'll talk to him now instead of to-morrow, as I said."

"Aye, aye, sorr," replied Tim; and, presently, the stowaway, who looked none the worse for his fall, came shambling sheepishly up the p.o.o.p ladder, Tim following in his wake, and saying as he ushered him into the captain's presence, "Here he is, sorr."

"Well, you rascal," exclaimed Captain Gillespie, looking at him up and down with his squinting eyes and sniffing, taking as good stock of him as the faint light would permit, "what have you got to say for yourself--eh?"

"Oi dunno," answered the ragged lad, touching his forelock and making a sc.r.a.pe back with his foot, in deferential salute. "Of's got nowt ter say, only as Oi'll wark me pessage if you'll let me be, and dunno put me in that theer dark pit agin."

"Do you know you're liable to three months imprisonment with hard labour for stowing yourself aboard my ship?" replied Captain Gillespie, paying no attention to his words apparently, and going on as if he had not spoken. "What will you do if I let you off?"

"Oi'll wark, measter," cried the other eagerly. "Oi'll wark loike a good un, Oi will, sure, if you lets Oi be."

"Ha, humph! I'll give you a try, then," jerked out Old Jock with a snort, after another nautical inspection of the new hand; "only, mind you don't go tumbling off the yard again. I don't want any accidents on board my ship, although I expect every man to do his duty; and when I say a thing I mean a thing. What's your name--eh?"

"Oi be called Joe Fergusson, measter," replied the shock-headed fellow, moving rather uneasily about and shuffling his feet on the deck, the captain's keen quizzical glance making him feel a bit nervous. "My mates at whoam, though, names me, and the folk in Lancacheer tew, 'Joey the moucher.'"

"Oh, then, Master Joey, you'll find you can't mooch here, my lad,"

retorted Old Jock, glad of the opportunity of having one of his personal jokes, and sn.i.g.g.e.ring and snorting over it in fine glee. "However, I'll forgive you coming aboard on the promise of your working your pa.s.sage to China; but, you won't find that child's play, my joker! Fergusson, I'll enter you on the ship's books and you'll be rated as an able seaman, for you look as if you had the makings of one in you from the way you've tried already to earn your keep."

"Thank ye koindly, measter," stammered out the redoubtable Joe, seeing from the captain's manner that his peace was made, and that nothing dreadful was going to be done to him, as he had feared from all that Tim Rooney and the hands forward had told him of Old Jock's temper--although he did not understand half what the captain said--"Oi'll wark, measter."

"There, that will do," said Captain Gillespie interrupting him ere he could proceed any further with his protestations of grat.i.tude; "the proof of the pudding lies in the eating, and I'll soon see what you're made of. Bosun, take him forrud and rig him out as well as you can.

I'll send you an old shirt and trousers by the steward."

"Aye, aye, sorr," answered Tim obediently, pleased at "the ould skipper behavin' so handsomely," as he afterwards said; "an' I'll give him an ould pair av brogues av me own."

"You can do as you like about that," said Captain Gillespie, turning on his heel and calling the watch to tauten the lee-braces a bit, telling the men at the wheel at the same time to "luff" more; "but, you'd better let the chap have a good lie-in to-night and put him in the port watch to-morrow so that Mr Mackay can look after him."