On Board the Esmeralda Part 30

This plan was adopted, and we launched the boats, now much lighter than when they originally had left the poor _Esmeralda_, for they had nothing now to carry but ourselves, save water, our provisions being all exhausted.

For three days and nights we suffered terribly from hunger, besides being buffeted about by adverse winds; but, happily, the fourth morning brought us relief, although we had not yet got in sight of Staten Island.

Far away on the horizon, on our starboard hand, Jorrocks saw a ship standing to the westward; so, rigging up the long-boat's sails again-- for the wind was contrary to the course we had been trying to fetch, and we had hauled them down in despair, allowing the boats to drift about on the ocean without heart or energy--we made a board to the south, so as to cut off the vessel as she steered towards Cape Horn, taking the jolly-boat in tow behind us, for she spread such little canvas that she could not keep up with the larger boat.

Fortunately, the wind held, and the ship did not change her course; so, about mid-day, we came up with her.

She was a London vessel, the _Iolanthe_, bound to Valparaiso; so her captain, seeing that we were shipwrecked mariners in distress, took us on board at once, and treated us like brothers, without waiting even to hear our story about the loss of the _Esmeralda_.

In thirty days more we were landed at Valparaiso.

Here, by rights, I ought to finish my yarn, for I said when I began that I was only going to give a full, fair, and truthful statement as to how I came to go to sea, and of my escape, just by "the skin of my teeth,"

as the saying goes, from the perils of the ocean off Cape Horn on this first voyage; and now, as the _Esmeralda_ got burnt and her keel and bottom timbers are lying beneath the waves--the catastrophe terminating, of course, my voyage in her, to which this story only refers--what relates to myself further on is of no concern to any one!

However, not to leave you in suspense, I'll tell you how I got back home again to old England, although it was by a terribly roundabout route.

When we arrived at the _Iolanthe's_ port, Captain Billings took pa.s.sage home in the mail-steamer for Mr Macdougall and himself, as well as for three of the hands who wished to return to their native country; but the rest preferred to run the risk of picking up a ship and working their way back in that way, so as to have some little money on the landing, the wages due to them from the _Esmeralda_ ceasing from the day of her loss.

The men of the mercantile marine have to put up with some hardship in this respect, for, when a vessel in which they may have shipped comes to an untimely end, like our unfortunate barque, they not only lose all their traps and personal belongings, but their wages as well--that is, beyond the period at which they actually a.s.sisted in working the ship, although they may have signed articles for a three years' voyage.

The skipper offered to take me home, too, but I was of the same opinion as the majority of my late shipmates. I did not desire to go back on Sam Pengelly's hands, like a bad penny, especially as I liked what I had seen of the sea in spite of its perils; so, when I mentioned this to Captain Billings, he said that although he would prefer my coming back to England with him and waiting till he got a fresh ship, he would not interfere with my wishes as to finding another berth at once. Indeed, he added, he already knew of one, as an old friend of his who commanded a ship just leaving Valparaiso for Australia had told him that he wanted a third mate.

"And if you like," said the skipper, "I'll recommend you to Captain Giles for the post."

"I shall be only too glad," I replied. The skipper did so; and the whole thing was settled off-hand, I signing articles with my new captain the same day, shortly before my late one left in the mail-steamer, which was just on the point of starting.

I took a cordial farewell of Captain Billings, promising that as soon as I got back to England, from the voyage I was just starting on, I would look him up. He promised, likewise, to give me a berth on board any ship he commanded--should the Board of Trade not withhold his certificate after the inquiry that would be held on the loss of the _Esmeralda_ on his arrival home; and I may as well state here, that the officials entirely exonerated him from any blame in the destruction of the ship and cargo, putting the matter down to one of the ordinary risks of commercial life.

The skipper also promised to see Sam Pengelly for me, and to tell him how I was getting on. These mutual engagements being gone into, I and Jorrocks, having shaken hands with Captain Billings and Mr Macdougall, the latter of whom said he would "never forget me as long as he lived,"

were both making our way along the front of the one long street that Valparaiso consists of, thinking of taking off a boat soon to our new ship, the _Jackmal_, lying out in the offing--for Jorrocks, learning that Captain Giles wanted a boatswain, and knowing that I was going with him, agreed to go to sea with him in a moment--when, all at once, who should we come full b.u.t.t on but the very last person in the world I expected to see here. I thought he was still at Dr h.e.l.lyer's, at Beachampton, cramming for an Oxford scholarship, as far as I knew to the contrary--who but--

Yes!--

Tom Larkyns, my old chum, who acted so wickedly in concert with me, when we blew up the schoolmaster and ran away to sea!

His uncle, he told me, had a foreign agency here; and the old gentleman having written home to his mother offering Tom a situation, he had at once been sent out at his own wish, preferring such a life greatly to that of going to the university and afterwards having to take holy orders, that being the only opening held out to him in England.

Tom also related that the Doctor had become a bankrupt, and the school broken up; but I was unable to hear anything further about the scene of my past misdeeds and experiences of "pandying" and "way of his own" of my former master, for while we were yet chatting together, Captain Giles came up, saying he was going off to the _Jackmal_ at once, and would like Jorrocks and myself to come on board with him, as he intended sailing that afternoon.

So, wishing Tom good-bye, before many hours were over I was again floating on the deep.

From Valparaiso, we sailed to Sydney; then, taking a cargo of all sorts of "notions," as the Yankees say, we went on to Singapore; going thence to Bombay, in ballast. From India we proceeded back again to Australia, going to Melbourne this time; finally coming home to England, round the Cape of Good Hope--a good two years after I joined my new ship; for it was in October that I landed in Liverpool, while I had started away from Cardiff in the _Esmeralda_ two years and five months previously exactly.

I was, however, all the better for my absence; for I had saved up over a hundred and fifty pounds, and I had grown a big strapping chap, with whiskers and beard in a small way, of which I was very proud.

Need it be asked where I first bent my steps on leaving my ship at Liverpool?

Why, to Plymouth, of course!

I got there early in the morning; and, being acquainted with Sam Pengelly's every-day practice, I knew exactly where to come across him, that is, unless he should happen to be ill; for every morning--except Sunday, when he always went to church, unless he chanced to be on board his little foretopsail schooner, which was not likely at this time of the year--he was invariably to be found on the Hoe, seated on one of the benches in front of Esplanade Terrace, looking over at the vessels out in the Sound, below and beyond.

Here I sought him; and here I found him, sure enough!

He did not see me coming; so, going behind the seat on which he was sitting, I clapped him suddenly on the back, exclaiming at the same time, in slight paraphrase of his old address to me that memorable December day when I first heard his friendly voice--

"Hallo, old c.o.c.kbird! How are you?"

Gracious me, you should only have seen him jump!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

AT HOME AGAIN.

Sam Pengelly started up, and looked at me as if he thought I was a ghost.

"What, laddie, is it you really?" he exclaimed, peering into my face with his own, which, usually as florid as a peony, was now all white with emotion; while his lips trembled nervously as he spoke. "Why," he said, after a close inspection to see whether I was actually Martin Leigh or else some base impostor a.s.suming his voice and guise, "it _is_ the young c.o.c.kbird, by all that's living--ain't I glad!" And, then, throwing his arms round me in a bear-like hug, he almost squeezed every particle of breath out of my body.

"Now, come along," he said presently, when he could speak again, the kind-hearted fellow's joy choking him at first, and preventing him from uttering a syllable; though he sighed, and drew his breath again in a long sigh like a sob, and finally cleared his throat with a cough that might have been heard on Drake Island.

"Where?" I asked.

"Why, to Old Calabar Cottage, in course!" he replied, indignantly. "Do you think Jane won't be glad to see you? Why, she's been fretting her heart into fiddle-strings arter you all these last six months that you never wrote, thinking you was gone down to Davy Jones's locker!"

"I'm very sorry I couldn't write from Melbourne," I said. "We were so hurried that I had hardly time to get once ash.o.r.e. You got my other letters, though, eh?"

"Oh, aye," replied Sam, as we went along the familiar old Stoke road that I knew so well, although it was now so long since I had seen it.

"You've been main good in writin', laddie, an' I don't know what Jane would ha' done without your letters. She thinks you're Teddy still, I believe, and seems to have got fonder than ever of you since you left.

Do you know what the woman did when Cap'en Billings came to tell us how he'd seen you, and you was goin' on first-rate?"

"No, I'm sure I can't say," I answered.

"Blest if she didn't throw her arms round his neck and kiss him--just because he had last seen you!"

I did not laugh at this, as Sam did; I only thought of the great affection, which, so undeserved by me, I had drawn from Jane Pengelly's great heart!

Presently, we came in sight of the cottage.

There it was, porch, creepers, and all, just as I had left it, only now the glow of the fuchsias had gone, with that of the scarlet geraniums and other flowers of summer; still, the autumn tints of the Virginian creeper, hanging down in festoons of russet and yellow and red from the roof, gave all the colouring that was wanted.

Sam opened the door and walked in, as usual; but it was before his usual time for returning from Plymouth, so Jane came out of the kitchen in surprise--this I could hear, for I remained without in the porch till he had warned her of my coming.

"Deary me, Sam, you are early," she said. "Why, the pasty won't be done for an hour and more."

"What, have you got a Mevagissey pie ag'in for dinner?"

"Yes, Sam," she replied.