Jack In The Forecastle; Or, Incidents In The Early Life Of Hawser Martingale Part 15

Hansen rejoined, with a derisive smile, that it was not his custom to give credit, or rely upon promises; that I must find something to do, or he should be compelled to turn me out of his house! "Did you ever do any thing but go to sea?" he asked abruptly.

"O, yes," said I, "I was brought up on a farm, and understand all kinds of farming work."

"If that's the case," continued he, "your business is done. There are fine farms in Brooklyn, within sight of the ferry. All our best vegetables and fruit are raised on those farms. It is now the spring of the year, when farm laborers are wanted. You had better go over to Brooklyn and find work on a farm."

"That I'll do with pleasure," said I; "but I have no money to pay my fare over the ferry."

"Never mind, I'll lend you a couple of sixpences, and charge them in your account. You had better go tomorrow, and take the whole day before you." Accordingly on the following day I started for Long Island in quest of work as a day laborer on a farm.

At that time Brooklyn was not, as now, a large, populous, and thriving city. It was a small, spa.r.s.ely-settled village; and the vast extent of land which is now laid out in streets and squares, and covered with costly edifices, was then improved for gardens, orchards, and farms.

I landed from the ferry boat and took my way along the public highway which led towards the interior of the island. The rural aspect of a cultivated country, after having my view confined for many months to salt water and the unseemly ma.s.ses of brick and mortar called cities, gladdened my heart; and I determined, in a spirit of true philosophy, to give vain cares and regrets to the wind, and pa.s.s one pleasant day in rambling about that agricultural district.

My efforts to obtain employment were not attended with success. My sailor costume, my pale features, and my const.i.tutional diffidence, which has always been a drag in my efforts to press forward in the world, served me not as a letter of recommendation among the shrewd and money-making farmers and gardeners of Long Island. Indeed, to my mortification, I found that a blue jacket and loose trousers, when worn by a weather-beaten or bronzed-visaged wayfarer, were looked upon as PRIMA FACIE evidence that "he was no better than he should be." One of the farmers to whom I applied, after questioning me about my ability to work on a farm, came to the conclusion that he did not require any additional help; another wanted a hand, but I was not stout enough for his purpose; a third expressed a belief that I was an impostor, and knew nothing about farming work; and a fourth, after cross-questioning me until I felt a.s.sured he was satisfied with my character and capacity, graciously informed me I might stay a week or so on trial, and if I worked well perhaps he would give me my board through the summer! My case was a desperate one, and I might have acceded to his proposal if he had not unguardedly added that I should have to sleep in a c.o.c.kloft in the shed! And thus I wandered about that part of the island the whole day, and returned to my boarding house towards dark, fatigued, hungry, and unsuccessful. I told Hansen the result of my day's labor. He looked disappointed and angry.

"You did not try!" said he. "I don't believe you said one word for yourself. There is one more shilling gone for nothing. But you must pretty quick find something to do."

The next day, when I returned home after my daily jaunt around the wharves in search of employment, Hansen met me with a smile, and introduced me to Stephen Schmidt, a thickset Dutchman, with little gray eyes, and capacious cheeks, of a color which proved he was a dear lover of schnapps. Schmidt claimed to be a native of Hudson; his ancestors were Dutch, and Dutch was the sole language of his early days. He had been several years employed in the North River sloops, but for the last six months had been in a coaster. Wearied of this kind of life and afraid of impressment, as his English p.r.o.nunciation was strongly tinctured with the gutturals of a genuine Knickerbocker, and British ships-of-war swarmed along our coast, he had made up his mind to return to his home on the banks of the Hudson, and try his hand at cultivating cabbages and manufacturing SAUER KRAUT! A man was wanted in his place on board the coasting vessel and Hansen had persuaded Schmidt to use his influence with the captain to procure me the enviable situation.

I cared not a rush what kind of vessel this coaster was, whether old or new, bound on a cruise to New Orleans or Baffin's Bay; nor did I care whether the captain was a gentleman or a clown; a worthy man or an ignorant bully. I was anxious to obtain the vacant situation, and feared that the captain, following the fashion of the Long Island farmers, would not like the cut of my jib. I learned, however, that the schooner was a comfortable vessel, about a hundred tons burden, called the Mary, belonging to Newbern in North Carolina. The name of the captain was Thompson. The schooner was taking in cargo for Newbern, and would soon be ready for sea. Towards evening I accompanied Schmidt to the wharf where the Mary lay, and went on board, my bosom agitated with hopes and fears. The captain was on deck, a st.u.r.dy, rough-looking man. Schmidt went boldly up to him. "Captain Thompson," said he, "this is the man I spoke to you about this morning to take my place."

"This the man?" said the captain, abruptly. "Why, this is a boy! He's lame, too, and looks sickly. He will never do for me!"

It was time for me to speak; and I made a bold effort to overcome my diffidence. "Sir," said I, "a few months ago I had the misfortune to break my leg in Liverpool, and was sent home by the American consul. The limb is nearly well; but I don't feel able to ship in a square-rigged vessel. But, sir, I am in good health; I want employment; I can do as good a day's work as any man on board your schooner. You will find me active, industrious, and faithful. You may rely on it, sir, you will never have cause to repent giving me the berth."

Captain Thompson eyed me sharply a few moments without saying a word.

After he had completed the examination of my person, he mildly inquired, "How much wages do you expect?"

"Whatever you may think I am worth, sir," said I. "I owe my landlord for three weeks board; but he will have to trust me for a part of it until I come back to New York. I am but poorly off for clothes, but that is of no consequence; summer is coming."

"You seem to be in a tight place, young man," said the kind-hearted captain. "Come on board with your rattletraps tomorrow. I'll soon find out what you are made of."

I returned home with a light heart, and rejoiced Hansen with the intelligence that I had become one of the crew of the Mary. I promised him every cent of my advance wages. With this he was obliged to be content, but declared his intention to keep my chest, my books, and other articles of trifling value, as security for the remainder of my board. To this I made no objection, thinking it reasonable enough. But Captain Thompson, the next day, when I received my half month's pay in advance, and informed him of my arrangements, called me a fool, and inveighed in bitter terms against the whole race of sailor landlords.

I took nothing with me on board the Mary but a change of clothing and a few articles of trifling value, packed in an old pillow case, loaned me by my landlady, with strict injunctions to return it if I ever came back to New York. I was overjoyed to think I had found employment, and could gain a subsistence by my own labors. I was sure of a home for a few weeks, until I should recover from the effects of my mishap, when I hoped to be above the necessity of asking favors.

The mate, whose name was Pierce, received me in a surly manner. He evidently thought Captain Thompson did a foolish act in shipping such "a useless piece of lumber" as myself. The crew, however, gave me a hearty reception, which placed me at my ease. I found the crew to consist of two young men, not much older than myself, and a negro boy. The two men were swarthy sons of North Carolina, born near Cape Hatteras; good-hearted, ignorant, lazy, careless fellows, who liked good living and clear comfort better than hard work. The cook was of the genuine African type; and when not employed in serious work about the camboose, was throwing off the exuberance of his good humor in peals of laughter.

Taken together, they were a set of jolly fellows, and I rejoiced that my lot was cast among them. My spirits, which had been below zero for some time, in spite of my philosophy, took a sudden rise immediately, notwithstanding the sullen humor of the mate, who, like Ca.s.sius, had "a lean and hungry look," and never even indulged in a smile. He manifested a singular antipathy towards me in all his acts.

Some animals seem to have a bitter hatred against those of their own kind which are the victims of accident or misfortune. A wolf, wounded by hunters, is torn in pieces by the pack; and a porpoise, if struck and mangled by a harpoon, is pursued by the whole shoal, and put to death without mercy. We sometimes find human beings possessed of such savage attributes. They pay court to wealth and power, but when they find a fellow-being stricken to the earth by misfortune or sickness, imbibe a prejudice against him, and instead of stretching forth a kind and open hand to relieve, will be more likely to shake a clinched fist in his face.

Chapter XVIII. SCHOONER MARY OF NEWBERN

We cast loose from the wharf the following day, about the 20th of April, 1812, and proceeded down the harbor. But the wind coming from the eastward, we anch.o.r.ed above the Narrows. I was soon convinced that Captain Thompson was no driver. Although originally a Ma.s.sachusetts man, he had lived long enough in southern climates to acquire indolent habits. When the wind was ahead, if on anchorage ground, he would let go an anchor, rather than take the trouble of beating to windward for what he considered the trifling object of saving a day or two in the pa.s.sage!

"Have patience and the wind will change," was his motto. He was not the only shipmaster I have met with who was in the habit of looking after his own comfort as well as the interest of his employer.

The wind was favorable the next day, and we glided past Sandy Hook and entered on the broad ocean. Away we went to the southward with the wind abeam, blowing a strong breeze from the westward. The captain took the helm, and all hands were employed in clearing the decks and putting things in order; Mr. Pierce being particularly active in the work, saying but little, and looking unusually solemn.

I was on the weather side of the main deck, securing the lashings of the long-boat, when I heard a splash in the water to leeward; at the same moment the cook shouted out, with all the power of his African lungs, "Goramity! Mr. Pierce is fell overboard!"

"The mate is overboard! The mate is overboard!" was now the cry from every mouth.

"Hard-a-lee!" screamed the skipper, and at the same instant executed the order himself by jamming the tiller hard down to leeward. "Haul the fore sheet to windward! Clear away the long-boat! Be handy, lads! We'll save the poor fellow yet."

And then the captain shouted to the unfortunate man, as he was seen not far off in the wake, "Be of good cheer! Keep your head up! No danger!

We'll soon be alongside!"

I seized the cook's axe and cut away the lashings of the boat, and in a s.p.a.ce of time incredibly brief, the boat was lifted from the chocks by main strength and launched over the side. We were about to shove off to the struggling mate, when Captain Thompson, who had not taken his eyes from the man after he had fallen overboard, and kept making signs and giving him words of encouragement, exclaimed, in a mournful tone, "Avast there with the boat! 'Tis no use. He's gone he's sunk, and out of sight.

We shall never see him again! Poor fellow poor fellow! May the Lord have mercy on him!"

It appeared that Mr. Pierce had stepped on the lee gunwale for the purpose of grasping a rope that was loose. His left hand was on one of the main shrouds, when a sudden lurch disengaged his grasp and precipitated him into the water. He was not a hundred yards from the schooner when he disappeared. Whether his body struck against the side of the vessel as he fell and he was thus deprived of the full use of his limbs, whether he was panic-struck at the fate which appeared to await him, or unable to swim, we could never learn. The simple, solemn fact, however, was before us in all its terrible significance. The man who, a few moments before, stood on the deck of the Schooner Mary, strong, healthy, and in the meridian of life, was no longer with us. He was removed without warning; buried in the depths of the ocean; cut off by some mysterious agency, "And sent to his account With all his imperfections on his head."

Soon after this sad accident, when we had taken in the long-boat, trimmed the sails, and were pursuing our way towards Cape Hatteras, the captain, with a solemn look, called me to the helm and went into the cabin, where he undoubtedly found consolation in the embrace of an intimate but treacherous friend. Indeed, on his return to the deck, a few minutes afterwards, I had olfactory demonstration that he and the brandy bottle had been in close communion! Captain Thompson had hardly spoken to me since we left the wharf in New York. He had now got his "talking tacks" on board, and was sociable enough.

"Hawser," said he, with a sigh, "this is a serious and sad thing, this death of poor Pierce. It might be your fate or mine at any time as easily as his. He was just from Liverpool, having been shipwrecked on the English coast, and on his way home to Washington, expecting to see his wife and children in a few days. Poor fellow! This will be a terrible blow to his family and friends. His fate, so sudden, is enough to make any man who IS a man, think seriously of his 'better end' of what may become of him hereafter!" He clinched this remark, which he delivered with much energy, with an oath that almost made my hair stand on end, and struck me at the time as being singularly out of place in that connection.

With another deep-drawn sigh he dismissed the subject, and did not again allude to it. He spoke of the "embargo act," of various ingenious modes of evading it, and of the prospect of a war with England; and made some a.s.sertion in relation to proceedings in Congress, which, in a respectful manner, but to his great astonishment, I ventured to dispute on the authority of a paragraph I had seen in a New York newspaper a few days before. The captain, after gravely staring me in the face a moment, as much as to say, "What do YOU know about newspapers or politics?"

inquired the name of the newspaper I was talking about.

I mentioned the name of the paper. "Well," said he, "I have that paper, with others, in a bundle in the cabin so that matter can be soon settled."

Down he went into the cabin, leaving me not a little alarmed at his conduct. Thinks I to myself, "Can he be offended because a vagabond like myself has dared to differ with him on a question of fact?"

He soon appeared on deck with a large bundle of newspapers, which he put into my hands, at the same time taking possession of the tiller.

"There," said he, "find the newspaper you were speaking of and pick out the paragraph, IF YOU CAN."

From my earliest boyhood I had manifested a strong attachment for newspapers. It may have been that, not finding other means to gratify my thirst for reading, I read every newspaper that came in my way; and as I was blessed with a good memory, I always kept tolerably well posted in regard to the current news of the day. I opened the bundle and promptly singled out the newspaper in question, and pointing to a paragraph with my finger, said, "There, sir, you may see for yourself."

The captain seemed astonished. He did not take the paper from my hands.

"My eyes," said he, "are not good; they are weak, and it troubles me to read. Let me hear YOU read it."

I read the paragraph accordingly. The captain, meanwhile, fixed his eyes, which exhibited no signs of weakness, upon me with an earnest expression. When I finished reading, he nodded his head and mused a few moments in silence, then hastily surrendered the tiller, bundled up the newspapers, and vanished down the companion-way.

"What does this bode?" thought I to myself. "The man is evidently angry.

I acted like a fool to question anything he said, however absurd." I did Captain Thompson injustice. He was not long absent, but soon came up the steps, bringing a sack-bottomed chair in one hand and a suspicious-looking pamphlet in the other. He placed the chair in front of the tiller.

"Hawser," said he, "sit down in that chair, and take this pamphlet, which is one of the most wonderful books that was ever laid before a wicked world. The author shows by figures, facts, and calculations that the world will be destroyed on the 12th of June. Good Lord! The time is close at hand. I have not read the book; my eyes trouble me too much besides, I have not had time. But I have heard much about it, and received orders, when I left Newbern for New York to bring back a dozen copies to enlighten the poor creatures on their fate. Sit right down, Hawser, I tell you, and go to work. I'll steer the schooner while you read."

I obeyed orders, as was my custom; and a curious picture we must have presented, the captain steering the schooner and listening with greedy ears to every word which fell from my lips, as, seated directly fronting him, my back supported by the binnacle, I read in a clear and distinct voice, and with due emphasis, the crude absurdities of a crack-brained religious enthusiast.

This "wonderful pamphlet" was written by a man named Cochran, a resident of Richmond, in Virginia, who, after poring over the Book of Revelation for years, convinced himself that he had obtained a clew to the mysteries contained in the writings of St. John.

After satisfying himself, as he said, beyond question of the correctness of his views, he published his pamphlet of some thirty or forty pages, notifying the public of the terrible fact that the day of judgment was at hand; and predicting the day, and suggesting the hour, when the world would come to an end! He even went so far as to describe the scene of destruction, when all the elements would be put in motion to destroy mankind, when volcanoes would deluge the land with liquid fire, and earthquakes shake and shatter the world to its centre!

Cochran claimed to PROVE all this by his interpretation of the Book of Revelation; by labored calculations based upon arithmetical principles, and algebraic formulae until then unknown, but which appeared mystical and appalling from the fact that they were incomprehensible. The book was written in a style well calculated to perplex, astonish, or terrify the readers, especially those who were not well stocked with intelligence. It is therefore not remarkable that it caused a commotion wherever it was circulated. The judgment day was the topic of discourse and persons of unG.o.dly lives and conversation were led to think seriously of the error of their ways.

I read the pamphlet through, from t.i.tle page to "finis," calculations, figures, and all; and no reader ever had a more attentive listener.