Chapter III. Mutiny.

Harry began to turn his attention to the editing of a newspaper, which he christened the Ocean News, and spent a good deal of time in writing sarcastic, but not over-brilliant articles, and collecting local items, as well as persuading others to send in contributions. The few first numbers perhaps were above the average of such productions. I will give sundry specimens of local items:

‘Mr Brown, our zoological and gastromical professor, had an exciting (?) day's sport after eight hours’ angling. He caught a fine male specimen of the albatross, and having dressed it in his usual récherché style, regaled a chosen few of his scientific friends with atoms of it.

‘Mr Grosvenor gave a reading from one of Tennyson's poems in his usual prosy manner to a very limited audience. We noticed the elegant Miss Robinson present. The press and general public were excluded for reasons best known to the reader—the prosy one we mean.

‘Mr Robinson's lessons in boxing were but meagrely attended. The gloves not being of kid, do not suit the aristocratic tastes of some of our youths.

‘The man at the wheel reports having seen an enormous, extinct fish-like monster, the description of which led the erudite Professor Brown to observe that it was “very like a whale.”’

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The columns headed ‘Hatch, Match, and Dispatch’ contained the following:—

Hatch.—At 12.30 p.m. yesterday, the Steward's cat, of triplets. Doing as well as could be expected.

Match.—We regret to have nothing definite to report in this line, but hope soon to be able to do so. We note our Joseph with coats of many colours has been cast into the pit of love by a fair young damsel, who has been engaged for some time getting up his linen.

Dispatch.—At 5 p.m., of a painful disease, known in these latitudes as scientific inquiry, the beloved son of an elderly albatross. Deeply regretted by those who attended the funeral feast and assisted to entomb his remains.

This sort of thing soon got monotonous, and I now come to an incident of our voyage which put the paper and other trivial matters out of our heads. I must first, however, shortly describe a few of the principal actors in the mutiny, for it amounted to that. Our crew was composed of good, bad, and indifferent, as is always the case, but I must say the bad largely predominated, and amongst these two gigantic fellows, who were commonly known as Big Bill and Blustering Bob, stood pre-eminent. Two more surly and disreputable characters it would have been hard to find. It was a temperance ship as far as the crew were concerned, although, as has been previously related, the officers occasionally imbibed—very occaaionally, indeed, in fact. Only once, although we had some excessively rough weather, and the poor fellows had a very hard time of it, do I remember having seen grog served out to the men. On that occasion, after many hours of arduons toil in the teeth of one of the most awful storms we had ever witnessed, the men were called aft and a very limited supply of spirits was given to each of them—so limited, indeed, that Big Bill yelled out in an insolent manner to the captain, who happened to be passing, ‘Is this all I've to have, capt'en?’

The captain vouchsafed no answer.

‘Then,’ with a string of oaths, ‘I ain't going to tantalise my throat with that drop,’ and he flung pannikin and all overboard. In doing so it almost grazed the captain's ear. The latter positively trembled with fear, for he imagined that this was but a preliminary move, and a preconcerted signal for a general assault. When he got down into the safety of his cabin, which he was not long in doing, he swore he would hang the fellow, and intensified his anger with a nobbler containing at least five times as much fire-water as he had deemed sufficient for his men.

The next morning, however, his cowardly fear returned, and he would not have the fellow punished, and the men, emboldened by this, made no secret of their discontent with things in general and their hatred of the captain. Their food, they said, wasn't fit for pigs, and that after exposure to such a storm a mere thimble-full of rum was an insult.

The second mate, I may here state, was a favourite with them, and his orders were always obeyed with pleasure and alacrity, but those of the captain and first mate invariably called forth muttered oaths and curses. Big Bill had on one occasion given the second mate some insolence, but, to his intense surprise, a right-hander placed in the vicinity of his left ear felled him to the deck like an ox. He told his mates afterwards that he had never met a man for his size who could deliver so smart and powerful a blow, ‘and, d— him,’ he concluded, ‘I love him for it, for I 'low I deserved it.’ After page 11 this he could do anything with them, and they often said ‘they wished he was capt'n instead of that d—d, bloated old swiper.’ Unfortunately, the poor fellow was just at this time laid up with an attack of brain fever, and, of course, confined to his berth, otherwise in all probability I should not have to record the following culmination of this deplorable state of affairs.

One day as we lay becalmed, not a breath of wind stirring, the sea a lovely dark blue, the intense heat making everyone as lazy and indolent as possible, we were lounging about the poop under the awning just after dinner. The sailors and steerage passengers seemed noisier than usual, there were sounds of revelry by day, and we were just wishing the forecastle was not so near that we might enjoy our afternoon pipes or naps, as the case might be, without being disturbed by this unpleasant discord. However, beyond this we did not trouble to think any more of the matter, when the steward came up hastily and uttered a few words in a serious tone to the captain. Now, this worthy invariably made a calm a pretext for an extra glass, to comfort him, he said, and enable him to support the vexation of the thing. As a rule, it appeared to have a contrary effect, for he invariably exhibited a considerable amount more impatience and annoyance after his extra dose than before it. In the present case he answered the steward with a volume of oaths, and went towards the main deck followed by the first mate and the man who had summoned him.

We were so disgusted with his language and general appearance, especially as the ladies were present, that we did not trouble to inquire what was the matter. The noise from the forepart of the vessel had almost subsided, when suddenly mad yells and curses fell on our ears, accompanied by the rushing of many feet. I flung down the Ocean News, which I happened to be perusing, shouted to Grosvenor to take the ladies down below, then rushed towards the main deck with Mr Robinson, Harry, Gracie, and Brown. We soon beheld the cause of the shrieks and clatter. The captain, first mate and steward were flying for their lives towards the poop, closely pursued by a lot of infuriated fiends from the starboard watch, whose shouts of ‘Chuck the d—d tyrants overboard!’ ‘Knife them!’ etc., were deafening, and fully proved that the lives of the pursued were not worth a moment's purchase. Could we reach them in time? No, it seemed impossible, for the two ringleaders, Big Bill and Blustering Bob, on whose herculean frames the liquor which they had very evidently been imbibing had less effect than on the others, at this moment jammed them up against the bulwarks, and Big Bill had hoisted the mate on his shoulder as if he had been an infant, and, regardless of his screams for mercy, was on the point of hurling him overboard, when Harry, who was the smartest runner amongst us, with a spring like a kangaroo managed to get the tail of the poor fellow's jacket, just as he would have disappeared over the side, and held on like a bulldog, though his hands were dreadfully bruised, and Blustering Bob gave him a blow in the eye which would have knocked many a man senseless. The rest of us were now up and doing. My first blow prevented Bob from giving Harry number too, and also made him let go his hold of the captain, whom he had just collared with his left hand. Mr Robinson rushed at Big Bill who was still trying his utmost to thrust the mate over, and laid that worthy low; then, with a strength and activity that was surprising page 12 in a man of his age, hammered away at the crowd of assailants indiscriminately. The rowdiest of the other watch and a lot of Irish steerage passengers now flew to reinforce the ranks of the rebels, while the few second-class who were at hand came to our assistance. We had not many on board. The struggle was a severe one. They had the advantage in numbers by ten to one, but we were sober; yet it seemed they must overwhelm us, and if they gained the poop I shuddered to think of what would be the consequences. They were gaining ground. We fought like demons, and although three times they had the victory in their own hands, yet by the consummate courage of every member of our little band we at last had them beaten off, and managed to drag the captain and mate up the steps more dead than alive, and delivered them over into the care of the doctor, who now appeared for the first time on the scene. We did not get off scot free. Gracie had been struck down by my side, but he pulled his assailant down with him. I dragged him from under the drunken wretch, and left the half of a bran new summer coat on the war-stained deck. Tearing off the rest of the mutilated garment, the brave fellow went at them again like a tiger, regardless of severe bruises and contusions he had received. Most of us had some wounds to show. The vanquished had retreated, cursing and swearing, to the forecastle, and doubtless soon drank themselves into a state of somnolency.

After a short spell to recover breath, we began to make inquiries of the steward as to the cause of the scrimmage. He said he had noticed on going forward that there was a good deal more noise than usual among the crew and steerage passengers, and on closer examination he saw they had some bottles of liquor which they were freely distributing. He therefore immediately reported to the captain that they had broached cargo. That worthy, having a good supply of Dutch courage about him at the time, ordered the mate and steward to accompany him, and proceeded to investigate matters. This brought things to a climax. The men were planning how to gain possession of the ship, place the second mate in charge as soon as he recovered sufficiently, and toss the captain and first mate overboard. The two ringleaders were in the middle of a savage dispute as to which of them should be allowed by the other to pay his attentions to Miss Robinson—God help the poor girl had their programme been carried out!—when their hated superiors appeared in sight. The result is already known to the reader.

The ladies had, with great pluck, refused to go below, and now clustered round us. Julia, tearing a dainty little handkerchief in half, bandaged up my bleeding knuckles, which had been badly cut against some of their weather-beaten physiognomies. Miss Grave attended to Harry, and bathed his black eye. Harry did not, however, seem to feel the satisfaction that I did at having my wounds dressed by fair hands. Mrs Robinson, who, having enjoyed better health the last few days, was on deck, after examining her husband and finding him comparatively unhurt, said, ‘Well, old boy, I'm proud of you. You are just as good with your fists as you were twenty years ago, when you hammered your rival so unmercifully and gained my love.’

‘Twenty years ago! Nearer thirty, my love, I should say,’ he replied; ‘but I have had some practice since then,’ and unmindful of her indignant ‘Thirty, what nonsense!’ he continued: ‘When these boys have had to use their knuckles as much as I have they won't page 13 crack them so easily,’ regarding his horny possessions with pride. ‘But where are our fellow die-hards? Gracie pleased me mightily. I did not know it was in him. He fought like a bull dog, and a good one at that. Little Brown did not do so bad either.’

‘Grade has gone to attire himself in another suit before presenting himself to the ladies, and Brown has caught sight of a strange sea bird, and rushed off for hook and line, regardless of his wounds and aught else,’ said his daughter.

‘But where is Grosvenor all this time? I have not seen him since the ruction began. Is he mingled with the slain, or has some one pitched him overboard?’

We all turned to Miss Julia, as he had been last seen in her company.

‘How should I know where he is, papa?’ she remarked in an annoyed tone. ‘He said the noise the men had been making all the morning had given him a headache, and if we would not go below he would retire to his cabin and lie down and try and relieve it. Mingled with the slain! no, I don't think there is much fear of that.’ Her voice had a ring of unmistakable sarcasm in it which pleased me mightily. ‘I told him,’ she continued, ‘that he should stay with us and help defend us. He replied that he would do so, even with his head splitting as it was, if there was any danger, but he was certain there was not, as the young clodhoppers would certainly never allow a few drunken sailors to get on the poop; then he slunk away to his cabin.’

‘Do you mean to say he was frightened, Julia?’

‘I should rather think he was, papa. He looked just like my pup does when he thinks I am going to thrash him. I've done with him, anyhow. Give me a fellow with some pluck in him,’ and as she said these words she gave Harry and me a glance alternately, which, only seeing the one directed to himself, made each of us believe that he was the favoured one.

‘Clodhoppers, indeed!’ she began again; ‘it's like his insolence to call them so. It's a counterjumper I believe he is, and I'll tell him so next time I see him. A baronet's son would have shown more pluck, I'm certain.’

‘Pluck does not always go by birth, Julia, so don't be too rough on him,’ observed the old gentleman, although I gave a shrewd guess he would not spare the cowardly sneak when he met him, which he would shortly do at the tea table.