Part 18 (1/2)

”Well, Duncan, I never thoroughly liked anything, you know, but I think I love a sea-life better than most sorts of existence, with the exception, of course, of wandering over the hills of old Glenvoie; bird-nesting in the forests, or fis.h.i.+ng in its beautiful streams. Only the sea has its drawbacks.”

”Yes.”

”Yes, for I do think it a nuisance to have to get up at all hours of the night to keep watch--blowing or calm. I always feel I should be willing to give five years of my life for another two hours' sleep, when the fellow shakes me by the shoulder and says, 'Eight bells, sir, if you please'. Just as if it would not be eight bells whether I pleased or not. Then, neither the tommy nor tack is quite up to sh.o.r.e standard, and one could do well enough without c.o.c.kroaches about a foot and a half long--more or less--between his sheets, weevils in his biscuits, and spiders roasted and ground up with his coffee. The tea is always sea-sick too, and hens' milk[1] isn't the best, especially if the eggs be old and decrepit. But I won't grumble, Duncan.”

[1] An egg or two beaten up with water. Used at sea when no milk is to be had.

”No, I wouldn't, if I were you. Sailors never do.”

”And now you're laughing at me.”

”That's nothing, Frank; one may live a long time after being laughed at.”

”Well, come along below, and I'll play you something that will make the tear-drops trickle down that old-fas.h.i.+oned Scotch nose of yours.”

”Wouldn't you rather hear the wild and martial strains of the bagpipes, my little c.o.c.kney cousin?”

”Oh, yes,” answered Frank punnily, but standing well beyond the reach of Duncan's swinger of an arm. ”I dearly love the bagpipes when--”

He hesitated.

”When what?” cried Duncan.

”When they're o'er the hills and far awa'.”

Then Frank made a bolt for the companion-ladder.

It was high time, too.

Well, when Frank Trelawney had that fiddle of his under his bit of a c.o.c.kney chin, all his troubles, if, indeed, he had any that could be called real, were forgotten, including weevils, hard tack, c.o.c.kroaches, and all. For the time being, indeed, there was no one else in the world save he himself and the violin. And what worlds of romance and love and beauty were thus conjured up before him!

But even at the risk of differing from Frank, I think a sailor's pleasures, if he is one who calls at many and different ports, far outbalance any grievances he may have to growl about--short of s.h.i.+pwreck. What though the biscuit be hard, and one's bed like the biscuit! The wholesome healthy appet.i.te one possesses, both for biscuit and sleep, makes up for all that; and one ought to be happy if he isn't.

But one chief enjoyment in a sailor's existence lies in visiting so many different lands, and seeing life in every form and shape. He cannot help being an anthropologist, and studying mankind. Not, mind you, that he lays himself out for that sort of thing; for sailors, especially young fellows, take the world as it comes, the rough with the smooth, or rather alternately, only always forgetting the rough while they revel in the smooth. But there must always be an element of comedy in Jack's delights, and when he goes on sh.o.r.e, take my word for it, ”Jack's alive, and full of fun”.

I am happy to say that drinking is much in the decrease both in the royal navy and merchant service. Why, even since I myself can remember--and I'm not a very aged individual--our blue-jackets were like babies, and if not in charge of an officer when on sh.o.r.e, would forget themselves, and come on board limp enough, with black eyes and broken heads, and garments drenched in gore.

Jack in those days really paid for his pint in more ways than one, for if he escaped the dangers of the sh.o.r.e, riot and wretchedness, the thieves and the female harpies who lay in wait to cheat and rob him, the day after coming off was for him a day of sadness and mourning.

If able to stand, he had to go on duty. Perhaps he had no more brains than a frozen turnip; perhaps his head felt so big that he borrowed a shoe-horn to put on his hat, nevertheless he was drilled on deck just all the same, and it took him four days probably to recover his appet.i.te and equilibrium.

There was every appearance now that the _Flora M'Vayne_ would have a pleasant voyage.

Talbot was kind to his fellows, and a rattling good crew they made. So, although they pa.s.sed Madeira and the Canary Islands to the west, they looked in at Santiago, one of the largest in the group of Cape de Verde Islands.

Three days were spent here, and they managed to secure some really good water. It was only the distilled they used at sea, and this, to say the least of it, is always somewhat vapourish.

The men had leave, and behaved fairly well, returning sober and with many curios, which they hoped to take home to their sweethearts and wives, and also laden with fruit of many kinds, all of which is good for the health of the sailor.