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A
SAGA OF THE SEAS IT
happened
one day that some ladies came to call, who were not at all the sort I
was used to. They suffered from a grievance, so far as I could gather,
and the burden of their plaint was Man — Men in general and Man
in particular. (Though the words were but spoken, I could clearly
discern the capital M in their acid utterance.) Of
course I was not present
officially, so to speak. Down below, in my sub-world of chair-legs and
hearthrugs and the undersides of sofas, I was working out my own
floor-problems, while they babbled on far above my head, considering me
as but a chair-leg, or even something lower in the scale. Yet I was
listening hard all the time, with that respectful consideration one
gives to all grown-up people’s remarks, so long as one knows
no better. It
seemed a serious
indictment enough, as they rolled it out. In fact, —
considerateness,
and right appreciation, as well as in taste and aesthetic
sensibilities — we failed at every point, we breeched and
bearded prentice-jobs of Nature; and I began to feel like collapsing on
the carpet from sheer spiritual anaemia. But when one of them, with a
swing of her skirt, prostrated a whole regiment of my brave tin
soldiers, and never apologized nor even offered her aid toward
revivifying the battle-line, I could not help feeling that in
tactfulness and consideration for others she was still a little to
seek. And I said as much, with some directness of language. That
was the end of me, from
a society point of view. Rudeness to visitors was the unpardonable sin,
and in two seconds I had my marching orders, and was sullenly wending
my way to the St. Helena of the nursery. As I climbed the stair, my
thoughts reverted somehow to a game we had been playing that very
morning. It was the good old game of Rafts, — a game that will
be played till all the oceans are dry and all the trees in the world
are felled — and after. And we were all crowded together on the
precarious little platform, and Selina occupied every bit as much room
as I did, and Charlotte’s legs didn’t dangle over
any more than Harold’s. The pitiless sun overhead beat on us
all with tropic impartiality, and the hungry sharks, whose fins scored
the limitless Pacific stretching out on every side, were impelled by an
appetite that made no exceptions as to sex. When we shared the ultimate
biscuit and circulated the last water — keg, the girls got an
absolute fourth apiece, and neither more nor less ; and the only
partiality shown was entirely in favour of Charlotte, who was allowed
to perceive and to hail the saviour-sail on the horizon. And this was
only because it was her turn to do so, not because she happened to be
this or that. Surely, the rules of the raft were the rules of life, and
in what, then, did these visitor-ladies’ grievance consist? Puzzled
and a little sulky,
I pushed open the door of the deserted nursery, where the raft that had
rocked beneath so many hopes and fears still occupied the ocean-floor.
To the dull eye, that merely tarries upon the outsides of things, it
might have appeared unromantic and even unraft-like, consisting only as
it did of a round sponge-bath on a bald deal towel-horse placed flat on
the floor. Even to myself much of the recent raft-glamour seemed to
have departed as I half-mechanically stepped inside and curled myself
up in it for a solitary voyage. Once I was in, however, the old magic
and mystery returned in full flood, when I discovered that the
inequalities of the towel-horse caused the bath to rock, slightly,
indeed, but easily and incessantly. A few minutes of this delightful
motion, and one was fairly launched. So those women below
didn’t want us? Well, there were other women, and other
places that did. And this was going to be no scrambling raft-affair,
but a full-blooded voyage of the Man, equipped and purposeful, in
search of what was his rightful own. Whither
should I shape my
course, and what sort of vessel should I charter for the voyage? The
shipping of all England was mine to pick from, and the far corners of
the globe were my rightful inheritance. A frigate, of course, seemed
the natural vehicle for a boy of spirit to set out in. And yet there
was something rather “uppish” in commanding a
frigate at the very first set-off and little spread was left for the
ambition. Frigates, too, could always be acquired later by sheer
adventure; and your real hero generally saved up a square-rigged ship
for the final achievement and the rapt return. No, it was a schooner
that I was aboard of — a schooner whose masts raked
devilishly
as the leaping seas hissed along her low black gunwale. Many
hair-brained youths started out on a mere cutter; but I was prudent,
and besides I had some inkling of the serious affairs that were ahead. I
have said I was already on
board; and, indeed, on this occasion I was too hungry for adventure to
linger over what would have been a special delight at a period of more
leisure — the dangling about the harbour, the choosing your
craft, selecting your shipmates, stowing your cargo, and fitting up
your private cabin with everything you might want to put your hand on
in any emergency whatever. I could not wait for that. Out beyond
soundings the big seas were racing westward and calling me, albatrosses
hovered motionless, expectant of a comrade, and a thousand islands held
each of them a fresh adventure, stored up, hidden away, awaiting
production, expressly saved for me. We were humming, close-hauled, down
the Channel, spray in the eyes and the shrouds thrilling musically, in
much less time than the average man would have taken to transfer his
Gladstone bag and his rugs from the train to a sheltered place on the
promenade-deck of the tame daily steamer. So long as we
were in
pilotage I stuck manfully to the wheel. The undertaking was mine, and
with it all its responsibilities, and there was some tricky steering to
be done as we sped by headland and bay, ere we breasted the great seas
outside and the land fell away behind us. But as soon as the Atlantic
had opened out I began to feel that it would be rather nice to take tea
by myself in my own cabin, and it therefore became necessary to invent
a comrade or two, to take their turn at the wheel. This was easy
enough. A
friend or two of my own age, from among the boys I knew; a friend or
two from characters in the books I knew ; and a friend or two from
No-man’s-land, where every fellow’s a born sailor;
and the crew was complete. I addressed them on the poop, divided them
into watches, gave instructions I should be summoned on the first sign
of pirates, whales, or Frenchmen, and retired below to a well-earned
spell of relaxation.
That was the
right sort of
cabin that I stepped into, shutting the door behind me with a click. Of
course, fire-arms were the first thing I looked for, and there they
were, sure enough, in their racks, dozens of
‘em — double-barrelled guns, and repeating-rifles,
and long pistols, and shiny plated revolvers. I rang up the steward and
ordered tea, with scones, and jam in its native pots — none of
your finicking shallow glass dishes; and, when properly streaked with
jam, and blown out with tea, I went through the armoury, clicked the
rifles and revolvers, tested the edges of the cutlasses with my thumb,
and filled the cartridge-belts chock-full. Everything was there, and of
the best quality, just as if I had spent a whole fortnight knocking
about Plymouth and ordering things. Clearly, if this cruise came to
grief, it would not be for want of equipment. Just as I was
beginning on
the lockers and the drawers, the watch reported icebergs on both
bows — and, what was more to the point, coveys of Polar bears
on the icebergs. I grasped a rifle or two, and hastened on deck. The
spectacle was indeed magnificent — it generally is, with
icebergs on both bows, and these were exceptionally enormous icebergs.
But I hadn’t come there to paint Academy pictures, so the
captain’s gig was in the water and manned almost ere the
boatswain’s whistle had ceased sounding, and we were pulling
hard for the Polar bears— myself and the rifles in the
stern-sheets. l have rarely
enjoyed better
shooting than I got during that afternoon’s tramp over the
icebergs. Perhaps I was in specially good form; perhaps the bears
“rose” well. Anyhow, the bag was a portentous one.
In later days, on reading of the growing scarcity of Polar bears, my
conscience has pricked me; but that afternoon I experienced no
compunction. Nevertheless, when the huge pile of skins had been hoisted
on board, and a stiff grog had been served out to the crew of the
captain’s gig, I ordered the schooner’s head to be
set due south. For icebergs were played out, for the moment, and it was
getting to be time for something more tropical. Tropical was
a mild
expression of what was to come, as was shortly proved. It was about
three bells in the next day’s forenoon watch when the
look-out man first sighted the pirate brigantine. I disliked the looks
of her from the first, and, after piping all hands to quarters, had the
brass cannonade on the fore-deck crammed with grape to the muzzle. This proved a
wise
precaution. For the flagitious pirate craft, having crept up to us
under the colours of the Swiss Republic, a state with which we were
just then on the best possible terms, suddenly shook out the
skull-and-crossbones at her mast-head, and let fly with round-shot at
close quarters, knocking into pieces several of my crew, who could ill
be spared. The sight of their disconnected limbs aroused my ire to its
utmost height, and I let them have the contents of the brass carronade,
with ghastly effect. Next moment the hulls of the two ships were
grinding together, the cold steel flashed from its scabbard, and the
death-grapple had begun. In
spite of the deadly work
of my grape-gorged carronade, our foe still outnumbered us, I reckoned,
by three to one. Honour forbade my fixing it at a lower
figure—this was the minimum rate at which one dared to do
business with pirates. They were stark veterans, too, every man seamed
with ancient sabre-cuts, whereas my crew had many of them hardly
attained the maturity which is the gift of ten long summers — and
the whole
thing was so sudden that I had no time to invent a reinforcement of
riper years. It was not surprising, therefore, that my dauntless
boarding-party, axe in hand and cutlass between teeth, fought their way
to the pirates’ deck only to be repulsed again and yet again,
and that our planks were soon slippery with our own ungrudged and
inexhaustible blood. At this critical point in the conflict, the
bo’sun, grasping me by the arm, drew my attention to a
magnificent British man-of-war, just hove to in the offing, while the
signalman, his glass at his eye, reported that she was inquiring
whether we wanted any assistance or preferred to go through with the
little job ourselves. This veiled
attempt to share
our laurels with us, courteously as it was worded, put me on my mettle.
Wiping the blood out of my eyes, I ordered the signalman to reply
instantly, with the half-dozen or so of flags that he had at his
disposal, that much as we appreciated the valour of the regular
service, and the delicacy of spirit that animated its commanders, still
this was an orthodox case of the young gentleman-adventurer versus the
unshaved pirate, and Her Majesty’s Marine had nothing to do
but to form the usual admiring and applauding background. Then,
rallying round me the remnant of my faithful crew, I selected a fresh
cutlass (I had worn out three already) and plunged once more into the
pleasing carnage. The result
was not long
doubtful. Indeed, I could not allow it to be, as I was already getting
somewhat bored with the pirate business, and was wanting to get on to
something more southern and sensuous. All serious resistance came to an
end as soon as I had reached the quarter-deck and cut down the pirate
chief—a fine black-bearded fellow in his way, but hardly up
to date in his parry-and—thrust business. Those whom our
cutlasses had spared were marched out along their own plank, in the
approved old fashion ; and in time the scuppers relieved the decks of
the blood that made traffic temporarily impossible. And all the time
the British man-of-war admired and applauded in the offing. As soon as we
had got
through with the necessary throat-cutting and swabbing-up all hands set
to work to discover treasure; and soon the deck shone bravely with
ingots and Mexican dollars and church plate. There were ropes of
pearls, too, and big stacks of nougat; and rubies, and gold watches,
and Turkish Delight in tubs. But I left these trifles to my crew, and
continued the search alone. For by this time I had determined that
there should be a Princess on board, carried off to be sold in
captivity to the bold bad Moors, and now with beating heart awaiting
her rescue by me, the Perseus of her dreams. I came upon
her at last in
the big state-cabin in the stern; and she wore a holland pinafore over
her Princess-clothes, and she had brown wavy hair, hanging down her
back, just like — well, never mind, she had brown wavy hair.
When gentle-folk meet, courtesies pass; and I will not weary other
people with relating all the compliments and counter-compliments that
we exchanged, all in the most approved manner. Occasions like this,
when tongues wagged smoothly and speech flowed free, were always
especially pleasing to me, who am naturally inclined to he tongue-tied
with women. But at last ceremony was over, and we sat on the table and
swung our legs and agreed to be fast friends. And I showed her my
latest knife — one-bladed, horn-handled, terrific, hung round
my neck with string; and she showed me the chiefest treasures the ship
contained, hidden away in a most private and particular
locker — a musical box with a glass top that let you see the
works, and a railway train with real lines and a real tunnel, and a tin
iron-clad that followed a magnet, and was ever so much handier in many
respects than the real full-sized thing that still lay and applauded in
the offing. There was
high feasting that
night in my cabin. We invited the captain of the
man-of-war — one could hardly do less, it seemed to
me — and the Princess took one end of the table and I took the
other, and the captain was very kind and nice, and told us fairy
stories, and asked us both to come and stay with him next Christmas,
and promised we should have some hunting, on real ponies. When he left
I gave him some ingots and things, and saw him into his boat; and then
I went round the ship and addressed the crew in several set speeches,
which moved them deeply, and with my own hands loaded up the carronade
with grape-shot till it ran over at the mouth. This done, I retired
into the cabin with the Princess, and locked the door. And first we
started the musical box, taking turns to wind it up; and then we made
toffee in the cabin-stove; and then we ran the train round and round
the room, and through and through the tunnel; and lastly we swam the
tin ironclad in the bath, with the soap-dish for a pirate. Next morning
the air was
rich with spices, porpoises rolled and gambolled round the bows, and
the South Sea Islands lay full in view (they were the real South Sea
Islands, of course — not the badly furnished journeyman-islands
that are to be perceived on the map). As for the pirate brigantine and
the man-of-war, I don’t really know what became of them.
They had played their part very well, for the time, but I
wasn’t going to bother to account for them, so I just let
them evaporate quietly. The islands provided plenty of fresh
occupation. For here were little bays of silvery sand, dotted with
land-crabs; groves of palm-trees wherein monkeys frisked and pelted
each other with cocoanuts; and caves, and sites for stockades, and
hidden treasures significantly indicated by skulls, in riotous plenty;
while birds and beasts of every colour and all latitudes made pleasing
noises which excited the sporting instinct. The islands
lay conveniently
close together, which necessitated careful steering as we threaded the
devious and intricate channels that separated them. Of course no one
else could be trusted at the wheel, so it is not surprising that for
some time I quite forgot that there was such a thing as a Princess on
board. This is too much the masculine way, whenever there’s
any real business doing. However, I remembered her as soon as the
anchor was dropped, and I went below and consoled her, and we had
breakfast together, and she was allowed to “pour
out,” which quite made up for everything. When breakfast was
over we ordered out the captain’s gig, and rowed all about
the islands, and paddled, and explored, and hunted bisons and beetles
and butterflies, and found everything we wanted. And I gave her pink
shells and tortoises and great milky pearls and little green lizards;
and she gave me guinea-pigs, and coral to make into waistcoat buttons,
and tame sea-otters, and a real pirate’s powder-horn. It was
a prolific day and a long-lasting one, and weary were we with all our
hunting and our getting and our gathering, when at last we clambered
into the captain’s gig and rowed back to a late tea. The following
day my
conscience rose up and accused me. This was not what I had come out to
do. These triflings with pearls and parrakeets, these alfresco
luncheons off yams and bananas — there was no “making
of history” about them. I resolved that without further
dallying I would turn to and capture the French frigate, according to
the original programme. So we upped anchor with the morning tide, and
set all sail for San Salvador. Of course I
had no idea
where San Salvador really was. I haven’t now, for that
matter. But it seemed a right — sounding sort of name for a
place that was to have a bay that was to hold a French frigate that was
to be cut out; so, as I said, we sailed for San Salvador, and made the
bay about eight bells that evening, and saw the top-masts of the
frigate over the headland that sheltered her. And forthwith there was
summoned a Council of War. It is a very
serious matter,
a Council of War. We had not held one hitherto, pirates and truck of
that sort not calling for such solemn treatment. But in an affair that
might almost be called international, it seemed well to proceed gravely
and by regular steps. So we met in my cabin — the Princess, and
the bo’sun, and a boy from the real-life lot, and a man from
among the book-men, and a fellow from No-man’s-land, and
myself in the chair. The bo’sun
had
taken part in so many cuttings-out during his past career that
practically he did all the talking, and was the Council of War himself.
It was to be an affair of boats, he explained. A boat’s-crew
would be told off to cut the cables, and two boats’-crews to
climb stealthily on board and overpower the sleeping Frenchmen, and two
more boats’-crews to haul the doomed vessel out of the bay.
This made rather a demand on my limited resources as to crews; but I
was prepared to stretch a point in a case like this, and I speedily
brought my numbers up to the requisite efficiency. The night was
both moonless
and starless — I had arranged all that — when the boats
pushed off from the side of our vessel, and made their way toward the
ship that, unfortunately for itself, had been singled out by Fate to
carry me home in triumph. I was in excellent spirits, and, indeed, as I
stepped over the side, a lawless idea crossed my mind, of discovering
another Princess on board the frigate — a French one this time;
I had heard that that sort was rather nice. But I abandoned the notion
at once, recollecting that the heroes of all history had always been
noted for their unswerving constancy. The French
captain was snug
in bed when I clambered in through his cabin window and held a naked
cutlass to his throat. Naturally he was surprised and considerably
alarmed, till I discharged one of my set speeches at him, pointing out
that my men already had his crew under hatchways, that his vessel was
even then being towed out of harbour, and that, on his accepting the
situation with a good grace, his person and private property would be
treated with all the respect due to the representative of a great
nation for which I entertained feelings of the profoundest admiration
and regard and all that sort of thing. It was a beautiful speech. The
Frenchman at once presented me with his parole, in the usual way, and,
in a reply of some power and pathos, only begged that I would retire a
moment while he put on his trousers. This I gracefully consented to do,
and the incident ended. Two of my
boats were sunk by
the fire from the forts on the shore, and several brave fellows were
severely wounded in the hand-to-hand struggle with the French crew for
the possession of the frigate. But the bo’sun’s
admirable strategy, and my own reckless gallantry in securing the
French captain at the outset, had the fortunate result of keeping down
the death-rate. It was all for the sake of the Princess that I had
arranged so comparatively tame a victory. For myself, I rather liked a
fair amount of blood-letting, red-hot shot, and flying splinters. But
when you have girls about the place, they have got to be considered to
a certain extent. There was another supper-party that night, in my
cabin, as soon as we had got well out to sea; and the French captain,
who was the guest of the evening, was in the greatest possible form. We
became sworn friends, and exchanged invitations to come and stay at
each other’s homes, and really it was quite difficult to
induce him to take his leave. But at last he and his crew were bundled
into their boats; and after I had pressed some pirate bullion upon
them — delicately, of course, but in a pleasant manner that
admitted of no denial — the gallant fellows quite broke down,
and we parted, our bosoms heaving with a full sense of each
other’s magnanimity and good-fellowship. The next day,
which was
nearly all taken up with shifting our quarters into the new frigate, so
honourably and easily acquired, was a very pleasant one, as everyone
who has gone up in the world and moved into a larger house will readily
understand. At last I had grim, black guns all along each side, instead
of a rotten brass carronade; at last I had a square-rigged ship, with
real yards, and a proper quarter-deck. In fact, now that I had soared
as high as could be hoped in a single voyage, it seemed about time to
go home and cut a dash and show off a bit. The worst of this
ocean-theatre was, it held no proper audience. It was hard, of course,
to relinquish all the adventures that still lay untouched in these
Southern seas. Whaling, for instance, had not yet been entered upon;
the joys of exploration, and strange inland cities innocent of the
white man, still awaited me; and the book of wrecks and rescues was not
yet even opened. But I had achieved a frigate and a Princess, and that
was not so bad for a beginning, and more than enough to show off with
before those dull unadventurous folk who continued on their mill-horse
round at home. The voyage
home was a record
one, so far as mere speed was concerned, and all adventures were
scornfully left behind, as we rattled along, for other adventurers who
had still their laurels to win. Hardly later than the noon of next day
we dropped anchor in Plymouth Sound, and heard the intoxicating clamour
of bells, the roar of artillery, and the hoarse cheers of an excited
populace surging down to the quays, that told us we were being
appreciated at something like our true merits. The Lord Mayor was
waiting there to receive us, and with him several Admirals of the
Fleet, as we walked down the lane of pushing, enthusiastic Devonians,
the Princess and I, and our war-worn, weather-beaten, spoil-laden crew.
Everybody was very nice about the French frigate, and the pirate booty,
and the scars still fresh on our young limbs; yet I think what I liked
best of all -was, that they all pronounced the Princess to be a duck,
and a peerless, brown-haired darling, and a true mate for a hero, and
of the right Princess-breed. The air was
thick with
invitations and with the smell of civic banquets in a forward stage;
but I sternly waved all festivities aside. The coaches-and-four I had
ordered immediately on arriving were blocking
the whole of the High Street; the champing of bits and the pawing of
gravel summoned us to take our seats and be off, to where the real
performance awaited us, compared with which all this was but an
interlude. I placed the Princess in the most highly gilded coach of the
lot, and mounted to my place at her side; and the rest of the crew
scrambled on board of the others as best they might. The whips cracked
and the’ crowd scattered and cheered as we broke into a
gallop for home. The noisy bells burst into a farewell peal —
Yes, that was undoubtedly the usual bell for school-room tea. And high
time too, I thought, as I tumbled out of the bath, which was beginning
to feel very hard to the projecting portions of my frame-work. As I
trotted downstairs, hungrier even than usual, farewells floated up from
the front door, and I heard the departing voices of our angular elderly
visitors as they made their way down the walk. Man was still catching
it, apparently — Man was getting it hot. And much Man cared!
The seas were his, and their
islands; he had his frigates for the taking, his pirates and their
hoards for an unregarded cutlass-stroke or two; and there were
Princesses in plenty waiting for him somewhere — Princesses
of the right sort.
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