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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. Seventeen Weeks At Sea |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. SEVENTEEN WEEKS AT SEA "Much better have let me had it my way, sir," said Esau, who, ever since he had seen the John Dempsters and their treatment of me, had grown to behave as if I was his superior. He spoke those words one day when we had been at sea about a week, the weather having been terribly rough, and the passengers suffering severely. "Oh, I don't know, Esau," I said, rather dolefully. "I do, sir. If you'd done as I wanted you we should ha' been walking about Woolwich now in uniform, with swords under our arms; and I don't know how you get on, but I can't walk at all." "You should catch hold of something." "Catch hold o' something? What's the good when the ship chucks you about just as if you were a ball. See that chap over there?" "What, that one-eyed man?" "Yes; he was going to hit me just now." "What for?" "'Cause I run my head into his chest. I couldn't help it. I'd got my legs precious wide apart, and was going steadily, when the ship gave a regular jump and then seemed to wag her tail, and sent me flying, and when I pollergized to him he said I was always doing it, and ought to sit down." "Well, it is safest, Esau," I said; "I've got several nasty bruises." "Bruises! Why, I'm bruised all over, and haven't got a place left clear for another, so I've begun again making fresh bruises top of the old 'uns." I laughed. "Ah, I don't see nothing to grin at. If you was as sore as I am you wouldn't laugh. Wouldn't have ketched me coming to sea if I'd known how bad it was. Why, it's like being knocked about by old Demp, only worse, for you've got no one to hit back at." "It's only a storm, Esau, and you'll like it when the weather's fine again." "Not me. Like it! Look here; I've read books about your yo-ho sailors and jolly tars, and your bright blue seas, but them as wrote 'em ought to be flogged. Why, it's horrid. Oh, how ill I have been. I wouldn't ha' cared if mother had been here. She would ha' been sorry for me; 'stead o' everybody laughing, as if it was good fun." "Well, you can laugh at them." "Yes, and I just will too. Oh, hark at that. Here, hold tight, sir! we're going." For a tremendous wave struck the ship, making it quiver as tons of water washed over her, seeming to beat her down; but she rose as if shaking herself, and then made a pitch. "I say," cried Esau, "I didn't know ships went like fishes sometimes." "What do you mean?" I said, as I listened to the rush and roar, and noticed that it seemed to be getting dark. "Why, swim right under water. Shall we ever come up again. Hah! that's better," for the light streamed in again through the thick round glass at the side by our heads. "I've had about enough of this, sir. What do you say to getting out at the next pier and walking back?" "Oh, Esau," I cried, "don't be such a Cockney. What pier? This is not a river steamer." "I only wish it was. But I say, I can't eat, and I can't sleep, and I'm sore outside and in. Let's go back and follow mother and them two in a waggon." "But don't you know that we should have a rough voyage across first?" "Couldn't be so rough as this. Oh, there it goes again. I know we're going to dive down right to the bottom. Wish we could, and then we might get out and walk. Here, let's go on deck." "We can't," I said. "No," said the one-eyed man, a big, broad, Saxon-looking fellow, "we're battened down." "Oh, are we?" said Esau. "Yes; you can't go up till this weather's better. Want to be washed overboard?" "I should like to be washed somewhere," said Esau, "for I feel very dirty and miserable." "Sit down and wait patiently, my lad," said the man; "and don't you come butting that curly head of yours into me again, like an old Southdown ram coming at a man. I don't want my ribs broke." "Have you been at sea before?" I said to him, as he sat back smoking a short pipe. "Often. Been to 'Stralia, and New Zealand, and the Cape." "Was it ever as rough as this?" "Worse," he said, laconically. "But not so dangerous?" said Esau, in a questioning tone. "Worse," said the man gruffly. "But we keep seeming as if we should go to the bottom," said Esau, fretfully. "Well, if we do, we do, boy. We're in for it, so what's the good o' making a fuss?" "I don't see no good in being drowned without saying a word," grumbled Esau. "We two paid ever so much for the passage, and a pretty passage it is." "Oh, it'll be all right if you keep quiet; but if you get wandering about as you do, we shall have you going right through the bulk-head, and have to get the carpenter to cut you out with a saw." "Wish he was as ill as I am," whispered Esau. "Thank ye," said the man, nodding at him. "My eyes are a bit queer, but my ears are sharp." "Where do you suppose we are?" I said. "Off Spain somewhere, and I dare say we shall be in smooth water before long. Shan't be sorry for a little fresh air myself." I was longing for it, our experience being not very pleasant down in the crowded steerage; and I must confess to feeling sorry a good many times that I had come. But after a couple more days of misery, I woke one morning to find that the ship was gliding along easily, and in the sweet, fresh air and warm sunshine we soon forgot the troubles of the storm. The weather grew from pleasantly warm to terribly hot, with calms and faint breezes; and then as we sailed slowly on we began to find the weather cooler again, till by slow degrees we began to pass into wintry weather, with high winds and showers of snow. And this all puzzled Esau, whose knowledge of the shape of the earth and a ship's course were rather hazy. "Yes; it puzzles me," he said. "We got from coolish weather into hotter; then into hot, and then it grew cooler again, and now it's cold; and that Mr Gunson says as soon as we're round the Horn we shall get into wet weather, and then it will be warmer every day once more." And so it of course proved, for as we rounded the Cape, and got into the Pacific, we gradually left behind mountains with snow in the hollows and dark-looking pine trees, to go sailing on slowly day after day through dreary, foggy wet days. Then once more into sunshine, with distant peaks of mountain points on our right, as we sailed on within sight of the Andes; and then on for weeks till we entered the Golden Gates, and were soon after at anchor off San Francisco. Seventeen weeks after we had come out of the West India Docks, and every one said we had had a capital passage, and I suppose it was; but we passed through a very dreary time, and it is impossible to describe the feeling of delight that took possession of us as we looked from the deck at the bright, busy-looking city, with its forest of masts, tall houses, and dry, bare country round. Esau and I were leaning against the bulwarks, gazing at the shore, upon which we were longing to set foot, when Gunson, who had all through the voyage been distant and rather surly, came up behind us. "Well, youngsters," he said, "going ashore?" "Yes," I said, "as soon as we can get our chests." "Well, good-bye, and good luck to you. Got any money?" "A little," I replied, rather distantly, for I did not like the man's manner. He saw it, and laughed. "Oh, I'm not going to beg or borrow," he said roughly. "I was only going to say put it away safe, and only keep a little out for use." "Oh, we're not fools," said Esau, shortly. "Don't tell lies, boy," said the man, giving him an angry look. "Don't you be too clever, because you'll always find some one cleverer. Look here," he continued, turning to me, "perhaps you're not quite so clever as he is. I thought I'd just say a word before I go about the people here. There's plenty of a good sort, but there's a set hanging about the wharfs and places that will be on the look-out to treat you two lads like oranges--suck you dry, and then throw away the skins. Going to stop here?" "No," I said; "we are going up country to join some friends." "Then you get up country and join your friends as soon as you can. That's all. Good-bye." He nodded shortly at me, but did not offer to shake hands. "Good-bye, sharp 'un," he growled at Esau. "Good-bye," said Esau, defiantly, and then the man turned away. "Never did like chaps with one eye," said Esau. "Strikes me that he's pretending to be so innocent, and all the while he's just the sort of fellow to try and cheat you." "Oh no," I said; "he's not a pleasant fellow, but I think he's honest." "I don't," cried Esau. "He took a fancy to that four-bladed knife of mine on the voyage, and he has been waiting till he was going to leave the ship. I'm not going to make a row about it, 'cause I might be wrong; but I had that knife last night, and this morning it's gone." "And you think he stole it?" "I shan't say one thing nor I shan't say another. All I know is, that my knife's gone." "But hadn't you better have him stopped and searched?" "What, and if the knife ain't found, have him glaring at me with that eye of his as if he would eat me? Not I. We're in a strange country, with 'Mericans, and Indians, and Chinese all about, and we've got to be careful. All I say is, my knife's gone." "There, put it in your pocket," I said, handing him the knife, "and don't be so prejudiced against a man who wanted to give us a bit of friendly advice." "Why! eh? How? You took the knife then." "Nonsense; you lent it to me last night when I was packing up our things." Esau doubled his fist, and gave himself a good punch on the head. "Of course I did," he cried. "Well of all! Why how! I say, my head must be thick after all." _ |
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