we soon recovered the road, and in half-an-hour we were at putney bridge; cold, wet, and tired, but not so bad as when we were stationary under the gallows; the quick walking restored the circulation. tom went in for the bottle of spirits, while i went for the sculls and carried them down to the boat, which was high and dry, and nearly up to the thwarts with snow. when tom joined me, he appeared with two bottles under his arms. “i have taken another upon tick, jacob,” said he, “for i’m sure we want it, and so will father say, when he hears our story.” we launched our boat, and in a couple of minutes were close to the lighter, on the deck of which stood old tom.
“boat ahoy! is that you, lads?” cried he.
“yes, father, all’s right,” replied tom, as we laid in our oars.
“thank god!” replied the old man. “boys, boys, how you frightened me? where have you been? i thought you had met with some disaster. how have i been peeping through the snow-storm these last two hours, watching for the boat, and i’m as wet as a shag and as cold as charity. what has been the matter? did you bring the bottle, tom?”
“yes, father; brought two, for we shall want them to-night if we go without for a week; but we must all get on dry rigging as fast as possible, and then you shall have the story of our cruise.”
in a few minutes we had changed our wet clothes and were seated at the cabin-table, eating our supper, and narrating our adventures to the old man. tommy, poor fellow, had his share, and now lay snoring at our feet, as the bottles and pannikins were placed upon the little table.
“come, jacob, a drop will do you good,” said old tom, filling me one of the pannikins. “a’ter all, it’s much better being snug here in this little cabin than shivering with fear and cold under old abershaw’s gallows; and tom, you scamp, if ever you go gunning again i’ll disinherit you.”
“what have you got to leave, father, except your wooden legs?” replied tom. “your’s would be but a wooden-leg-acy.”
“how do you know but what i can ‘post the coal?’”
“so you will, if i boil a pot o’ ’tatoes with your legacy—but it will only be char-coal.”
“well, i believe you are about right, tom; still, somehow or other, the old woman always picks out a piece or two of gold when i’m rather puzzled how to raise the wind. i never keeps no ’count with her. if i follow my legs before she, i hope the old soul will have saved something; for you know when a man goes to kingdom come, his pension goes with him. however, let me only hold on another five years, and then you’ll not see her want; will you, tom?”
“no, father; i’ll sell myself to the king, and stand to be shot at, at a shilling a day, and give the old woman half.”
“well, tom, ’tis but natural for a man to wish to serve his country; so here’s to you, my lad, and may you never do worse! jacob, do you think of going on board of a man-of-war?”
“i’d like to serve my apprenticeship first, and then i don’t care how soon.”
“well, my boy, you’ll meet more fair play on board of a king’s ship than you have from those on shore.”
“i should hope so,” replied i, bitterly.
“i hope to see you a man before i die, yet, jacob. i shall very soon be laid up in ordinary—my toes pain me a good deal lately!”
“your toes!” cried tom and i both at once.
“yes, boys; you may think it odd, but sometimes i feel them just as plain as if they were now on, instead of being long ago in some shark’s maw. at nights i has the cramp in them till it almost makes me halloo out with pain. it’s a hard thing, when one has lost the sarvice of his legs, that all the feelings should remain. the doctor says as how it’s narvous. come, jacob, shove in your pannikin. you seem to take it more kindly than you did.”
“yes,” replied i, “i begin to like grog now.” the now, however, might be comprehended within the space of the last twenty-four hours. my depressed spirits were raised with the stimulus, and for a time i got rid of the eternal current of thought which pressed upon my brain.
“i wonder what your old gentleman, the dominie, as you call him, thought, after he got on shore again,” said old tom. “he seemed to be mighty cut up. i suppose you’ll give him a hail, jacob?”
“no,” replied i, “i shall not go near him, nor any one else, if i can help it. mr drummond may think i wish to make it up again. i’ve done with the shore. i only wish i knew what is to become of me; for you know i am not to serve in the lighter with you.”
“suppose tom and i look out for another craft, jacob? i care nothing for mr drummond. he said t’other day i was a drunken old swab—for which, with my sarvice to him, he lies. a drunken fellow is one who can’t, for the soul of him, keep from liquor when he can get it, and who’s overtaken before he is aware of it. now that’s not the case with me; i keep sober when there’s work to be done; and when i knows that everything is safe under hatches, and no fear of nothing, why then i gets drunk like a rational being, with my eyes open—’cause why?—’cause i chooses.”
“that’s exactly my notion of the thing,” observed tom, draining his pannikin, and handing it over to his father for a fresh supply.
“mind you keep to that notion, tom, when you gets in the king’s sarvice, that’s all; or you’ll be sure to have your back scratched, which i understand is no joke after all. yet i do remember once, in a ship i was in, when half-a-dozen fellows were all fighting who should be flogged.”
“pray give us that yarn, father; but before you begin just fill my pannikin. i shoved it over half-an-hour ago, just by way of a hint.”
“well then,” said old tom, pouring out some spirits into tom’s pannikin, “it was just as follows. it was when the ship was lying at anchor in bermuda harbour, that the purser sent a breaker of spirits on shore to be taken up to some lady’s house whom he was very anxious to splice, and i suppose that he found a glass of grog helped the matter. now, there were about twenty of the men who had liberty to go on shore, to stretch their limbs—little else could they do, poor fellows for the first lieutenant looked sharp after their kits to see that they did not sell any of their rigging; and as for money, we had been five years without touching a farthing of pay, and i don’t suppose there was a matter of threepence among the men before the mast. however, liberty’s liberty after all; and if they couldn’t go ashore and get glorious, rather than not go on shore at all, they went ashore and kept sober perforce. i do think, myself, it’s a very bad thing to keep the seamen without a farthing for so long—for you see a man who will be very honest with a few shillings in his pocket is often tempted to help himself, just for the sake of getting a glass or two of grog, and the temptation’s very great, that’s sartain, ’ticularly in a hot climate, when the sun scorches you, and the very ground itself is so heated that you can hardly bear the naked foot to it. (this has been corrected; the men have for some time received a portion of their pay on foreign stations, and this portion has been greatly increased during sir james graham’s administration.) but to go on. the yawl was ordered on shore for the liberty men, and the purser gives this breaker, which was at least half full, and i dare say there might be three gallons in it, under my charge as coxswain, to deliver to madam at the house. well, as soon as we landed, i shoulders the breaker, and starts with it up the hill.
“‘what have you there, tom?’ said bill short.
“‘what i wish i could share with you, bill,’ says i; ‘it’s some of old nipcheese’s eights, that he has sent on shore to bowse his jib up with, with his sweetheart.’
“‘i’ve seen the madam,’ said holmes to me—for you see all the liberty men were walking up the hill at the same time—‘and i’d rather make love to the breaker than to her. she’s as fat as an ox, as broad as she’s long, built like a dutch schuyt, and as yellow as a nabob.’
“‘but old tummings knows what he’s about,’ said a scotch lad of the name of m’alpine; ‘they say she has lots of gold dust, more ducks and ingons, and more inches of water in her tank than any on the island.’
“you see, boys, bermuda be a queer sort of place, and water very scarce; all they get there is a godsend, as it comes from heaven; and they look sharp for the rain, which is collected in large tanks, and an inch or two more of water in the tank is considered a great catch. i’ve often heard the ladies there talking for a shower:—
“‘good morning, marm. how do you do this fine morning?’
“‘pretty well, i tank you, marm. charming shower hab last night.’
“‘yes, so all say; but me not very lucky. cloud not come over my tank. how many inches of water you get last night, marm?’
“‘i get good seven inches, and i tink a little bit more, which make me very happy.’
“‘me no so lucky, marm; so help me god, me only get four inches of water in my tank; and dat nothing.’
“well, but i’ve been yawing again, so now to keep my course. as soon as i came to the house i knocked at the door, and a little black girl opens the jalousies, and put her finger to her thick lips.
“‘no make noise; missy sleep.’
“‘where am i to put this?’
“‘put down there; by-and-by i come fetch it;’ and then she closed the jalousies, for fear her mistress should be woke up, and she get a hiding, poor devil. so i puts the breaker down at the door, and walks back to the boat again. now, you see, these liberty men were all by when i spoke to the girl, and seeing the liquor left with no one to guard it, the temptation was too strong for them. so they looked all about them, and then at one another, and caught one another’s meaning by the eye; but they said nothing. ‘i’ll have no hand in it,’ at last says one, and walked away. ‘nor i,’ said another, and walked away too. at last all of them walked away except eight, and then bill short walks up to the breaker and says—
“‘i won’t have no hand in it, either;’ but he gave the breaker a kick, which rolls it away two or three yards from the door.
“‘nor more will i,’ said holmes, giving the breaker another kick, which rolled it out in the road. so they all went on, without having a hand in it, sure enough, till they had kicked the breaker down the hill to the beach. then they were at a dead stand, as no one would spile the breaker. at last a black carpenter came by, and they offered him a glass if he would bore a hole with his gimlet, for they were determined to be able to swear, every one of them; that they had no hand in it. well, as soon as the hole was bored, one of them borrowed a couple of little mugs from a black woman, who sold beer, and then they let it run, the black carpenter shoving one mug under as soon as the other was full, and they drinking as fast as they could. before they had half finished, more of the liberty men came down; i suppose they scented the good stuff from above as a shark does anything in the water, and they soon made a finish of it; and when it was all finished, they were all drunk, and made sail for a cruise, that they might not be found too near the empty breaker. well, a little before sunset i was sent on shore with the boat to fetch off the liberty men, and the purser takes this opportunity of getting ashore to see his madam, and the first thing he falls athwart of is his own empty breaker.
“‘how’s this?’ says he; ‘didn’t you take this breaker up as i ordered you?’
“‘yes, sir,’ replied i, ‘i did, and gave it in charge to the little back thing; but madam was asleep, and the girl did not allow me to put it inside the door.’ at that he began to storm, and swore that he’d find out the malefactors, as he termed the liberty men, who had emptied his breaker; and away he went to the house. as soon as he was gone we got hold of the breaker, and made a bull of it.”
“how did you manage that?” inquired i.
“why, jacob, a bull means putting a quart or two of water into a cask which has had spirits in it; and what with the little that may be left, and what has soaked in the wood, if you roll it and shake it well, it generally turns out pretty fair grog. at all events its always better than nothing. well, to go on—but suppose we fill up again and take a fresh departure, as this is a tolerably long yarn, and i must wet the threads, or they may chance to break.”
our pannikins, which had been empty, were all replenished, and then old tom proceeded.
“it was a long while before we could pick up the liberty men, who were reeling about every corner of the town, and quite dark before i came on board. the first lieutenant was on deck, and had no occasion to ask me why i waited so long, when he found they were all lying in the stern sheets. ‘where the devil could they have picked up the liquor?’ said he, and then he ordered the master-at-arms to keep them under the half-deck till they were sober. the next morning the purser comes off, and makes his complaint on the quarter-deck as how somebody had stolen his liquor. the first lieutenant reports to the captain, and the captain orders up all the men who came off tipsy.
“‘which of you took the liquor?’ said he. they all swore that they had no hand in it. ‘then how did you get tipsy? come now, mr short, answer me; you came off beastly drunk—who gave you the liquor?’
“‘a black fellow, sir,’ replied short; which was true enough, as the mugs were filled by the black carpenter, and handed by him.
“well, they all swore the same, and then the captain got into a rage, and ordered them all to be put down on the report. the next day the hands were turned up for punishment, and the captain said, ‘now, my lads, if you won’t tell who stole the purser’s grog, i will flog you all round. i only want to flog those who committed the theft, for it is too much to expect of seamen that they would refuse a glass of grog when offered to them.’
“now, short and the others had a parley together, and they had agreed how to act. they knew that the captain could not bear flogging, and was a very kind-hearted man. so bill short steps out, and says, touching his forelock to the captain, ‘if you please, sir, if all must be flogged if nobody will peach, i think it better to tell the truth at once. it was i who took the liquor.’
“‘very well, then,’ said the captain; ‘strip, sir.’ so bill short pulls off his shirt, and is seized up. ‘boatswain’s mate,’ said the captain, ‘give him a dozen.’
“‘beg your honour’s pardon,’ said jack holmes, stepping out of the row of men brought out for punishment; ‘but i can’t bear to see an innocent man punished, and since one must be flogged, it must be the right one. it warn’t bill short that took the liquor; it was i.’
“‘why, how’s this?’ said the captain; ‘didn’t you own that you took the liquor, mr short?’
“‘why, yes, i did say so, ’cause i didn’t wish to see everybody flogged—but the truth’s the truth, and i had no hand in it.’
“‘cast him loose—holmes, you’ll strip, sir.’ holmes stripped and was tied up. ‘give him a dozen,’ said the captain; when out steps m’alpine, and swore it was him, and not holmes; and ax’d leave to be flogged in his stead. at which the captain bit his lips to prevent laughing, and then they knew all was right. so another came forward, and says it was him, and not m’alpine; and another contradicts him again, and so on. at last the captain says, ‘one would think flogging was a very pleasant affair; you are all so eager to be tied up; but, however, i shan’t flog, to please you. i shall find out who the real culprit is, and then punish him severely. in the meantime, you keep them all on the report, mr p—,’ speaking to the first lieutenant. ‘depend upon it, i’ll not let you off, although i do not choose to flog innocent men.’ so they piped down, and the first lieutenant, who knew that the captain never meant to take any more notice of it, never made no inquiries, and the thing blew over. one day, a month or two after, i told the officers how it was managed, and they laughed heartily.”
we continued our carouse till a late hour, old tom constantly amusing us with his long yarns; and that night, for the first time, i went to bed intoxicated. old tom and his son assisted me into my bed-place, old tom observing, “poor jacob; it will do him good; his heart was heavy, and now he’ll forget it all, for a little time, at all events.”
“well but, father, i don’t like to see jacob drunk,” replied young tom. “it’s not like him—it’s not worthy of him; as for you or me, it’s nothing at all; but i feel jacob was never meant to be a toper. i never saw a lad so altered in a short time, and i expect bad will come of it when he leaves us.”
i awoke, as might be supposed, after my first debauch, with a violent headache, but i had also a fever, brought on by my previous anxiety of mind. i rose, dressed, and went on deck, where the snow was nearly a foot deep. it now froze hard, and the river was covered with small pieces of floating ice. i rubbed my burning forehead with the snow, and felt relief. for some time i assisted tom to heave it overboard, but the fever pressed upon me, and in less than half-an-hour i could no longer stand the exertion. i sat down on the water cask, and pressed my hands to my throbbing temples.
“you are not well, jacob?” inquired tom, coming up to me with the shovel in his hand, and glowing with health and exercise.
“i am not, indeed, tom,” replied i; “feel how hot i am.”
tom went to his father, who was in the cabin, padding, with extra flannel, his stumps, to defend them from the cold, which always made him suffer much, and then led me into the cabin. it was with much difficulty i could walk; my knees trembled, and my eyesight was defective. old tom took my hand as i sank on the locker.
“do you think that it was taking too much last night?” inquired tom of his father.
“there’s more here than a gallon of liquor would have brought about,” replied old tom. “no, no—i see it all. go to bed again, jacob.”
they put me into bed, and i was soon in a state of stupor, in which i remained until the lighter had arrived at the brentford wharf, and for many days afterwards.
