Use his own phrase,
remaining "just about right." When in this interesting state, he had
a free lurch in his gait, a queer way of hitching up his waistbands,
looked unnecessarily steady at you when speaking, and for the rest,
was in very tolerable spirits. At these times, moreover, he was
exceedingly patriotic; and in a most amusing way, frequently showed
his patriotism whenever he happened to encounter Dunk, a
good-natured, square-faced Dane, aboard.
It must be known here, by the bye, that the cooper had a true sailor
admiration for Lord Nelson. But he entertained a very erroneous idea
of the personal appearance of the hero. Not content with depriving
him of an eye and an arm, he stoutly maintained that he had also lost
a leg in one of his battles. Under this impression, he sometimes
hopped up to Dunk with one leg curiously locked behind him into his
right arm, at the same time closing an eye.
In this attitude he would call upon him to look up, and behold the man
who gave his countrymen such a thrashing at Copenhagen. "Look you,
Dunk," says he, staggering about, and winking hard with one eye to
keep the other shut, "Look you; one man - hang me, half a man - with
one leg, one arm, one eye - hang me, with only a piece of a carcase,
flogged your whole shabby nation. Do you deny it you lubber?"
The Dane was a mule of a man, and understanding but little English,
seldom made anything of a reply; so the cooper generally dropped his
leg, and marched off, with the air of a man who despised saying
anything further.
CHAPTER XVI.
WE ENCOUNTEB A GALE
THE mild blue weather we enjoyed after leaving the Marquesas gradually
changed as we ran farther south and approached Tahiti. In these
generally tranquil seas, the wind sometimes blows with great
violence; though, as every sailor knows, a spicy gale in the tropic
latitudes of the Pacific is far different from a tempest in the
howling North Atlantic. We soon found ourselves battling with the
waves, while the before mild Trades, like a woman roused, blew
fiercely, but still warmly, in our face.
For all this, the mate carried sail without stint; and as for brave
little Jule, she stood up to it well; and though once in a while
floored in the trough of a sea, sprang to her keel again and showed
play. Every old timber groaned - every spar buckled - every chafed cord
strained; and yet, spite of all, she plunged on her way like a racer.
Jermin, sea-jockey that he was, sometimes stood in the fore-chains,
with the spray every now and then dashing over him, and shouting out,
"Well done, Jule - dive into it, sweetheart. Hurrah!"
One afternoon there was a mighty queer noise aloft, which set the men
running in every direction. It was the main-t'-gallant-mast. Crash!
it broke off just above the cap, and held there by the rigging,
dashed with every roll from side to side, with all the hamper that
belonged to it. The yard hung by a hair, and at every pitch, thumped
against the cross-trees; while the sail streamed in ribbons, and the
loose ropes coiled, and thrashed the air, like whip-lashes. "Stand
from under!" and down came the rattling blocks, like so many shot.
The yard, with a snap and a plunge, went hissing into the sea,
disappeared, and shot its full length out again. The crest of a great
wave then broke over it - the ship rushed by - and we saw the stick no
more.
While this lively breeze continued, Baltimore, our old black cook, was
in great tribulation.
Like most South Seamen, the Julia's "caboose," or cook-house, was
planted on the larboard side of the forecastle. Under such a press of
canvas, and with the heavy sea running the barque, diving her bows
under, now and then shipped green glassy waves, which, breaking over
the head-rails, fairly deluged that part of the ship, and washed
clean aft. The caboose-house - thought to be fairly lashed down to its
place - served as a sort of breakwater to the inundation.
About these times, Baltimore always wore what he called his "gale
suit," among other things comprising a Sou'-wester and a huge pair of
well-anointed sea-boots, reaching almost to his knees. Thus equipped
for a ducking or a drowning, as the case might be, our culinary
high-priest drew to the slides of his temple, and performed his sooty
rites in secret.
So afraid was the old man of being washed overboard that he actually
fastened one end of a small line to his waistbands, and coiling the
rest about him, made use of it as occasion required. When engaged
outside, he unwound the cord, and secured one end to a ringbolt in
the deck; so that if a chance sea washed him off his feet, it could
do nothing more.
One evening just as he was getting supper, the Julia reared up on her
stern like a vicious colt, and when she settled again forward, fairly
dished a tremendous sea. Nothing could withstand it. One side of the
rotten head-bulwarks came in with a crash; it smote the caboose, tore
it from its moorings, and after boxing it about, dashed it against
the windlass, where it stranded. The water then poured along the deck
like a flood rolling over and over, pots, pans, and kettles, and even
old Baltimore himself, who went breaching along like a porpoise.
Striking the taffrail, the wave subsided, and washing from side to
side, left the drowning cook high and dry on the after-hatch: his
extinguished pipe still between his teeth, and almost bitten in two.
