With natives and foreigners alike, Wilson the younger was exceedingly
unpopular, being held an unprincipled and dissipated man, a character
verified by his subsequent conduct. Pritchard's selecting a man like
this to attend to the duties of his office, had occasioned general
dissatisfaction ashore.
Though never in Europe or America, the acting consul had been several
voyages to Sydney in a schooner belonging to the mission; and
therefore our surprise was lessened, when Baltimore told us, that he
and Captain Guy were as sociable as could be - old acquaintances, in
fact; and that the latter had taken up his quarters at Wilson's
house. For us this boded ill.
The mate was now assailed by a hundred questions as to what was going
to be done with us. His only reply was, that in the morning the
consul would pay us a visit, and settle everything.
After holding our ground off the harbour during the night, in the
morning a shore boat, manned by natives, was seen coming off. In it
were Wilson and another white man, who proved to be a Doctor Johnson,
an Englishman, and a resident physician of Papeetee.
Stopping our headway as they approached, Jermin advanced to the
gangway to receive them. No sooner did the consul touch the deck,
than he gave us a specimen of what he was.
"Mr. Jermin," he cried loftily, and not deigning to notice the
respectful salutation of the person addressed, "Mr. Jermin, tack
ship, and stand off from the land."
Upon this, the men looked hard at him, anxious to see what sort of a
looking "cove" he was. Upon inspection, he turned out to be an
exceedingly minute "cove," with a viciously pugged nose, and a
decidedly thin pair of legs. There was nothing else noticeable about
him. Jermin, with ill-assumed suavity, at once obeyed the order, and
the ship's head soon pointed out to sea.
Now, contempt is as frequently produced at first sight as love; and
thus was it with respect to Wilson. No one could look at him without
conceiving a strong dislike, or a cordial desire to entertain such a
feeling the first favourable opportunity. There was such an
intolerable air of conceit about this man that it was almost as much
as one could do to refrain from running up and affronting him.
"So the counsellor is come," exclaimed Navy Bob, who, like all the
rest, invariably styled him thus, much to mine and the doctor's
diversion. "Ay," said another, "and for no good, I'll be bound."
Such were some of the observations made, as Wilson and the mate went
below conversing.
But no one exceeded the cooper in the violence with which he inveighed
against the ship and everything connected with her. Swearing like a
trooper, he called the main-mast to witness that, if he (Bungs) ever
again went out of sight of land in the Julia, he prayed Heaven that a
fate might be his - altogether too remarkable to be here related.
Much had he to say also concerning the vileness of what we had to
eat - not fit for a dog; besides enlarging upon the imprudence of
intrusting the vessel longer to a man of the mate's intemperate
habits. With so many sick, too, what could we expect to do in the
fishery? It was no use talking; come what come might, the ship must
let go her anchor.
Now, as Bungs, besides being an able seaman, a "Cod" in the
forecastle, and about the oldest man in it, was, moreover, thus
deeply imbued with feelings so warmly responded to by the rest, he
was all at once selected to officiate as spokesman, as soon as the
consul should see fit to address us. The selection was made contrary
to mine and the doctor's advice; however, all assured us they would
keep quiet, and hear everything Wilson had to say, before doing
anything decisive.
We were not kept long in suspense; for very soon he was seen standing
in the cabin gangway, with the tarnished tin case containing the
ship's papers; and Jennin at once sung out for the ship's company to
muster on the quarter-deck.
CHAPTER XXI.
PROCEEDINGS OF THE CONSUL
THE order was instantly obeyed, and the sailors ranged themselves,
facing the consul.
They were a wild company; men of many climes - not at all precise in
their toilet arrangements, but picturesque in their very tatters. My
friend, the Long Doctor, was there too; and with a view, perhaps, of
enlisting the sympathies of the consul for a gentleman in distress,
had taken more than ordinary pains with his appearance. But among the
sailors, he looked like a land-crane blown off to sea, and consorting
with petrels.
The forlorn Rope Yarn, however, was by far the most remarkable figure.
Land-lubber that he was, his outfit of sea-clothing had long since
been confiscated; and he was now fain to go about in whatever he
could pick up. His upper garment - an unsailor-like article of dress
which he persisted in wearing, though torn from his back twenty times
in the day - was an old "claw-hammer jacket," or swallow-tail coat,
formerly belonging to Captain Guy, and which had formed one of his
perquisites when steward.
By the side of Wilson was the mate, bareheaded, his gray locks lying
in rings upon his bronzed brow, and his keen eye scanning the crowd
as if he knew their every thought. His frock hung loosely, exposing
his round throat, mossy chest, and short and nervous arm embossed
with pugilistic bruises, and quaint with many a device in India ink.
In the midst of a portentous silence, the consul unrolled his papers,
evidently intending to produce an effect by the exceeding bigness of
his looks.
