Part 12 (1/2)
Salve's indignation at his sister's baseness was still too fresh for Federigo's reappearance to be in any way agreeable to him, although he believed him to be innocent of any complicity in that business. At the same time, the latter's conscience was apparently not entirely clear in the matter, for there was a certain conscious sense of humiliation in his expression, combined with something which made Salve feel that he must be upon his guard. Neither spoke to the other, and it might have been supposed from their bearing towards one another that they had never met before.
It very soon became clear to Salve that he could not have hit upon a more unfortunate s.h.i.+p. The crew was composed of the dregs of the New Orleans and Charleston docks--men with every species of vice and degradation stamped upon their countenances, and amongst whom every second word was some infamous oath or blasphemy. Blows with handspikes were of common occurrence, and brutality and violence generally were the order of the day. There was no court of appeal, and the immunity which any one individual might enjoy depended entirely upon how far he was protected by the officers--who, however, in a general way, did not interfere in the quarrels forward--or had formed a league with others.
The Americans and the Irish banded together, and being the most numerous, practised a shameless system of tyranny against any who could not defend themselves--a miserable sickly Spaniard, who had been forced to work until he had actually dropped, having recently been more especially the object of their attentions. Their supremacy, however, was contested by a party of seven or eight tattered countrymen of the latter, with one or two Portuguese, who were always ready with their knives, and who formed a sort of opposition. To this party Federigo had attached himself.
Salve stood alone. The Americans and Irish had at first reckoned upon having him with them, but had gradually turned against him. They had taken offence at his apparent disinclination to a.s.sociate with them more than he could help. He seemed to think himself too good for them; and in addition to that, the seaman-like qualities which he displayed made them dislike him out of envy. But their hostility was perhaps mainly due to the boatswain, who encouraged the idea among the rest of the crew that he was favoured by the officers. Federigo came out now in an unexpectedly friendly light; and Salve perceived that it was only owing to him that all the Portuguese were not against him also. The result was that the two gradually approached such other again.
There were of course in such a collection of riff-raff, individual bullies whose hands were against every man, but who to some extent kept each other in check. The one most feared of these was a huge, copper-coloured, scarred Irishman, who seemed periodically to be possessed by a very demon of violence, and to be actually running over with bad blood. He had been in irons for some time before the vessel arrived at Rio, for having one day sworn on deck that he would murder the captain. It was with this ruffian that Salve had first to measure himself, the boatswain being the immediate cause.
One day when the large bell forward had rung for dinner, the boatswain gave an order which detained Salve for some time after the others had taken their places at the long table in the round-house, and when he came in everything was eaten up, and he lost his dinner. The following day exactly the same thing happened, and he had to content himself with his breakfast and supper rations for the day. He perfectly understood the meaning of it. In smartness and activity he was so far beyond comparison superior to any of the other foretop hands, that the boatswain had not been able to find any excuse for subjecting him to punishment: he was going to try and hit him in another way. On his lonely watch that night Salve decided what he should do if the trick was practised a third time upon him. It would be better to bring things to a crisis at once than have his strength gradually exhausted by continued insufficiency of food.
The same order being given at the same time next day, he carried it out as speedily as he could, and hurried on then to the round-house, where the others were already at their dinner, with a bowl of meat and soup to every two men.
He sat down by the side of the Irishman, who he saw had a bowl to himself.
”Put the bowl this way,” he said, coolly.
The Irishman merely looked at him contemptuously. He was evidently astonished at his audacity, but went on eating composedly.
Salve felt that he must not be beaten.
”Life for life, Irishman,” he cried, springing to his feet, and as the other also rose, giving him a blow in the face that sent him backwards on the bench against the wall.
A fierce conflict now ensued. The Irishman got up like a bleeding ox, and catching up a marline-spike that was hanging from the beam, gave Salve a deep wound in the cheek, the scar of which he carried his whole life through. They drew their knives then; and Salve's coolness and activity soon gave him the superiority over his furious and unwieldy opponent. His movements were like those of a steel spring; and pale and smiling, he delivered every blow with such well-calculated effect, that the affair ended with the Irishman, bleeding profusely and half-unconscious, tumbling out of the narrow doorway to save himself.
There were not a few who were glad enough that the dreaded Irishman should have been worsted, and it was to this feeling Salve was indebted for being allowed to fight it out alone with him. He stuck his knife now into the table by the side of his dish, and, looking round him, asked, ”Is there any one else now who would like to keep me out of my meat?”
There was no answer.
”While I am about it,” he continued, without noticing the blood that was running down his face and over his hands, ”I'll settle this matter once for all. I have two days' rations owing to me. Very well. For the next two days I shall keep one dish to myself. I shall see then what the Irishman or any one else thinks of it.”
The Irishman was confined to his hammock the whole week with wound-fever, and Salve had for the first time won the respect of the crew. He felt at the same time that he had commenced a desperate struggle, and that if he was to enjoy any sort of security in this company of ruffians whom he had now set at defiance, he must take the game into his own hands, and make himself at least as much feared as the Irishman had been. Accordingly, instead of waiting to be challenged, he deliberately became the aggressor, and set himself to dispense justice as he pleased.
The one who, next to the Irishman, was most dreaded, was a broad-shouldered mulatto, who carried on a petty system of pillage against any one that was not supported, unluckily for him, by any party; and Salve himself had been obliged one evening to put up with having his hammock taken down, and the mulatto's hung in its place. He had seen him in several fights, and had observed his peculiar tactics; the result of his observations being the conviction that the man had not the strength which he was anxious to make the others think he had. In pursuance of this policy, he had picked a quarrel with him on the head of that matter of the hammock, and with a similarly decisive result. The mulatto rejoiced in the name of Januarius, and Salve accordingly requested him to remember that there was something still owing to him for the eleven other months of the year. He was a cur by nature, and never seemed to have the slightest desire to renew the struggle afterwards, which was not the case with the Irishman, with whom Salve perceived, directly the man came on deck again, that a fresh trial of strength was inevitable.
An opportunity was not long in offering, and Salve seized it at once, so that the challenge might come from him. The Irishman had taken a fancy to the boots of the wretched Spaniard who was ill, and was now wearing them.
”Irishman,” said Salve, as the other pa.s.sed him, when they were lounging about after dinner, ”that is an awkward pair of boots you have on there.
If you take my advice you'll return them to their owner, or--I shall have to pull them off you.”
The Irishman glared at him, but turned pale at the last threat; and Salve's eye seemed to light up at the prospect of carrying it out. The former made the mistake of preparing to defend himself instead of taking the aggressive, and in a moment was knocked down and stunned for an instant by a couple of unexpected blows from Salve, who flew at him like a tiger-cat. The crew gathered round. The Irishman seized a heavy iron pump-handle as a weapon, and Salve a handspike; and Salve kept his word.
He pulled the boots off as the other lay senseless on the deck, and took them down to the Spaniard.
In point of physical strength, Salve was far from being the equal of many of these men, who, he knew very well, were now only looking out for an occasion to get the better of him. His only chance was to take the initiative on all occasions, and to seem the most reckless and the most careless of life, and the most eager to fight of them all. He therefore flew at his man without hesitation on the slightest provocation, and whenever he threatened took care to keep his word.
The constant strain upon his energy became at last like a fever in his blood, and the life he was leading began to show itself in his face. He had come to be reckoned on board as one of those stubborn, unruly spirits that are common enough among the dregs of humanity to be met with in s.h.i.+ps' holds in that quarter of the globe, and who usually end their career at the yard-arm, or by a bullet from the captain's revolver. In this very s.h.i.+p, before they came into Rio, at the time the Irishman had been put in irons, the captain had, without any hesitation, shot down from the yard one of the crew, whom he supposed to be the ringleader of the mutineers. He looked upon Salve now with increasing distrust, wondering how he could ever have been so mistaken in a man as he had been in him. ”But put a man to herd with rabble, and it's hard for him not to become one of them,” he said; and, deteriorated though he was, Salve was still the smartest sailor he had on board.
The boatswain kept out of his way now as much as possible, for he had heard that Salve had sworn to tear his entrails out if he gave him any fresh cause for offence. The latter knew very well, though, that he was meditating something against him, and was not surprised therefore at being called aft one day to stand a formal trial before the captain for the expression which he had used with regard to the boatswain, and which he did not affect to deny, ”as the boatswain,” he said, ”had wished to take his life.”
”I mean to leave the s.h.i.+p,” he said, ”the moment we come to Valparaiso.