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Masterman Ready - by Captain Marryat

Chapter I

It was in the month of October, 18--, that the Pacific, a large ship,
was running before a heavy gale of wind in the middle of the vast
Atlantic Ocean. She had but little sail, for the wind was so strong,
that the canvas would have been split into pieces by the furious blasts
before which she was driven through the waves, which were very high,
and following her almost as fast as she darted through their boiling
waters; sometimes heaving up her stern and sinking her bows down so
deep into the hollow of the sea, that it appeared as if she would have
dived down underneath the waves; but she was a fine vessel, and the
captain was a good seaman, who did what he considered best for the
safety of his vessel, and then put his trust in that Providence who is
ever watchful over us.

The captain stood before the wheel, watching the men who were steering
the ship; for when you are running before a heavy gale, it requires
great attention to the helm: and as he looked around him and up at the
heavens, he sang in a low voice the words of a sea song:

"One wide water all around us,
All above us one black sky."

And so it was with them;--they were in the middle of the Atlantic, not
another vessel to be seen, and the heavens were covered with black
clouds, which were borne along furiously by the gale; the sea ran
mountains high, and broke into large white foaming crests, while the
fierce wind howled through the rigging of the vessel.

Besides the captain of the ship and the two men at the wheel, there
were two other personages on deck: one was a young lad about twelve
years old, and the other a weather-beaten old seaman, whose grisly
locks were streaming in the wind, as he paced aft and looked over the
taffrail of the vessel.

The young lad, observing a heavy sea coming up to the stern of the
vessel, caught hold of the old man's arm, crying out - "Won't that
great wave come into us, Ready?"

"No, Master William, it will not: don't you see how the ship lifts her
quarters to it?--and now it has passed underneath us. But it might
happen, and then what would become of you, if I did not hold on, and
hold you on also? You would be washed overboard."

"I don't like the sea much, Ready; I wish we were safe on shore again,"
replied the lad. "Don't the waves look as if they wished to beat the
ship all to pieces?"

"Yes, they do; and they roar as if angry because they cannot bury the
vessel beneath them: but I am used to them, and with a good ship like
this, and a good captain and crew, I don't care for them."

"But sometimes ships do sink, and then everybody is drowned."

"Yes; and very often the very ships sink which those on board think are
most safe. We can only do our best, and after that we must submit to
the will of Heaven."

"What little birds are those flying about so close to the water?"

"Those are Mother Carey's chickens. You seldom see them except in a
storm, or when a storm is coming on."

The birds which William referred to were the stormy petrels.

"Were you ever shipwrecked on a desolate island like Robinson Crusoe?"

"Yes, Master William, I have been shipwrecked; but I never heard of
Robinson Crusoe. So many have been wrecked and undergone great
hardships, and so many more have never lived to tell what they have
suffered, that it's not very likely that I should have known that one
man you speak of, out of so many."

"Oh! but it's all in a book which I have read. I could tell you all
about it--and so I will when the ship is quiet again; but now I wish
you would help me down below, for I promised mamma not to stay up
long."

"Then always keep your promise like a good lad," replied the old man;
"now give me your hand, and I'll answer for it that we will fetch the
hatchway without a tumble; and when the weather is fine again, I'll
tell you how I was wrecked, and you shall tell me all about Robinson
Crusoe."

Having seen William safe to the cabin door, the old seaman returned to
the deck, for it was his watch.

Masterman Ready, for such was his name, had been more than fifty years
at sea, having been bound apprentice to a collier which sailed from
South Shields, when he was only ten years old. His face was browned
from long exposure, and there were deep furrows on his cheeks, but he
was still a hale and active man. He had served many years on board of a
man-of-war, and had been in every climate: he had many strange stories
to tell, and he might be believed even when his stories were strange,
for he would not tell an untruth. He could navigate a vessel, and, of
course, he could read and write. The name of Ready was very well suited
to him, for he was seldom at a loss; and in cases of difficulty and
danger, the captain would not hesitate to ask his opinion, and
frequently take his advice. He was second mate of the vessel.

The Pacific was, as we have observed, a very fine ship, and well able
to contend with the most violent storm. She was of more than four
hundred tons burthen, and was then making a passage out to New South
Wales, with a valuable cargo of English hardware, cutlery, and other
manufactures. The captain was a good navigator and seaman, and moreover
a good man, of a cheerful, happy disposition, always making the best of
everything, and when accidents did happen, always more inclined to
laugh than to look grave. His name was Osborn. The first mate, whose
name was Mackintosh, was a Scotsman, rough and ill-tempered, but paying
strict attention to his duty - a man that Captain Osborn could trust,
but whom he did not like.

Ready we have already spoken of, and it will not be necessary to say
anything about the seamen on board, except that there were thirteen of
them, hardly a sufficient number to man so large a vessel; but just as
they were about to sail, five of the seamen, who did not like the
treatment they had received from Mackintosh, the first mate, had left
the ship, and Captain Osborn did not choose to wait until he could
obtain others in their stead. This proved unfortunate, as the events
which we shall hereafter relate will show.

Chapter II

Master William, whom we have introduced to the reader, was the eldest
boy of a family who were passengers on board, consisting of the father,
mother, and four children: his father was a Mr. Seagrave, a very
well-informed, clever man, who having for many years held an office
under government at Sydney, the capital of New South Wales, was now
returning from a leave of absence of three years. He had purchased from
the government several thousand acres of land; it had since risen very
much in value, and the sheep and cattle which he had put on it were
proving a source of great profit. His property had been well managed by
the person who had charge of it during his absence in England, and he
was now taking out with him a variety of articles of every description
for its improvement, and for his own use, such as furniture for his
house, implements of agriculture, seeds, plants, cattle, and many other
things too numerous to mention.

Mrs. Seagrave was an amiable woman, but not in very strong health. The
family consisted of William, who was the eldest, a clever, steady boy,
but, at the same time, full of mirth and humour; Thomas, who was six
years old, a very thoughtless but good-tempered boy, full of mischief,
and always in a scrape; Caroline, a little girl of seven years; and
Albert, a fine strong little fellow, who was not one year old: he was
under the charge of a black girl, who had come from the Cape of Good
Hope to Sydney, and had followed Mrs. Seagrave to England. We have now
mentioned all the people on board of the Pacific: perhaps we ought not
to forget two shepherd's dogs, belonging to Mr. Seagrave, and a little
terrier, which was a great favourite of Captain Osborn, to whom she
belonged.

It was not until the fourth day from its commencement that the gale
abated, and then it gradually subsided until it was nearly a calm. The
men who had been watching night after night during the gale now brought
all their clothes which had been drenched by the rain and spray, and
hung them up in the rigging to dry: the sails, also, which had been
furled, and had been saturated by the wet, were now loosened and spread
out that they might not be mildewed. The wind blew mild and soft, the
sea had gone down, and the ship was running through the water at the
speed of about four miles an hour. Mrs. Seagrave, wrapped up in a
cloak, was seated upon one of the arm-chests near the stern of the
ship, her husband and children were all with her enjoying the fine
weather, when Captain Osborn, who had been taking an observation of the
sun with his sextant, came up to them.

"Well, Master Tommy, you are very glad that the gale is over?"

"I didn't care," replied Tommy, "only I spilt all my soup. But Juno
tumbled off her chair, and rolled away with the baby, till papa picked
them both up."

"It was a mercy that poor Albert was not killed," observed Mrs.
Seagrave.

"And so he might have been, if Juno had not thought only of him and
nothing at all about herself," replied Mr. Seagrave.

"That's very true, sir," replied Captain Osborn. "She saved the child,
and, I fear, hurt herself."

"I thump my head very hard," said Juno, smiling.

"Yes, and it's lucky that you have a good thick woolly coat over it,"
replied Captain Osborn, laughing.

"It is 12 o'clock by the sun, sir," said Mackintosh, the first mate, to
the captain.

"Then bring me up the latitude, Mr. Mackintosh, while I work out the
longitude from the sights which I took this morning. In five minutes,
Mr. Seagrave, I shall be ready to prick off over our place on the
chart."

"Here are the dogs come up on deck," said William; "I dare say they are
as glad of the fine weather as we are. Come here, Romulus! Here, Remus!
- Remus!"

"Well, sir," said Ready, who was standing by them with his quadrant in
his hand, "I should like to ask you a question. Those dogs of yours
have two very odd names which I never heard before. Who were Romulus
and Remus?"

"Romulus and Remus," replied Mr. Seagrave, "were the names of two
shepherds, brothers, who in ancient days founded the city of Rome,
which eventually became the largest and most celebrated empire in the
world. They were the first kings of Rome, and reigned together. History
says that Remus affronted Romulus by leaping over a wall he had raised,
and Romulus, in his anger, took away his life; but the history of early
days is not to be depended upon."

"No, nor the brothers either, it appears," replied Ready; "however, it
is the old story - two of a trade can never agree. One sometimes hears
of Rome now - is that the same place?"

"Yes," replied William, "it is the remains of the old city."

"Well, one lives and learns," said Ready. "I have learnt something
to-day, which everyone will to the last day of his life, if he will
only ask questions. I'm an old man, and perhaps don't know much, except
in the seafaring way; but I should have known much less if I did not
ask for information, and was not ashamed to acknowledge my ignorance;
that's the way to learn, Master William."

"Very good advice, Ready, - and, William, I hope you will profit by
it," said Mr. Seagrave; "never be ashamed to ask the meaning of what
you do not understand."

"I always do, papa. Do I not ask you questions, Ready?"

"Yes, you do, and very clever questions for a boy of your age; and I
only wish that I could answer them better than I can sometimes."

"I should like to go down now, my dear," said Mrs. Seagrave; "perhaps
Ready will see the baby down safe."

"That I will, ma'am," said Ready, putting his quadrant on the capstan:
"now, Juno, give me the child, and go down first; - backwards, you
stupid girl! how often do I tell you that? Some day or another you will
come down with a run."

"And break my head," said Juno.

"Yes, or break your arm; and then who is to hold the child?"

As soon as they were all down in the cabin, the captain and Mr.
Seagrave marked the position of the vessel on the chart, and found that
they were one hundred and thirty miles from the Cape of Good Hope.

"If the wind holds, we shall be in to-morrow," said Mr. Seagrave to his
wife. "Juno, perhaps you may see your father and mother."

Poor Juno shook her head, and a tear or two stole down her dark cheek.
With a mournful face she told them, that her father and mother belonged
to a Dutch boor, who had gone with them many miles into the interior:
she had been parted from them when quite a little child, and had been
left at Cape Town.

Chapter III

The next morning the Pacific arrived at the Cape and anchored in Table
Bay.

"Why do they call this Table Bay, Ready?" said William.

"I suppose it's because they call that great mountain the Table
Mountain, Master William; you see how flat the mountain is on the top."

"Yes, it is quite as flat as a table."

"Yes, and sometimes you will see the white clouds rolling down over the
top of it in a very curious manner, and that the sailors call spreading
the tablecloth: it is a sign of bad weather."

"Then I hope they will not spread the tablecloth while we are here,
Ready," said William, "for I shall certainly have no appetite. We have
had bad weather enough already, and mamma suffers so much from it. What
a pretty place it is!"

"We shall remain here two days, sir," said Captain Osborn to Mr.
Seagrave, "if you and Mrs. Seagrave would like to go on shore."

"I will go down and ask Mrs. Seagrave," said her husband, who went down
the ladder, followed by William.

Upon the question being put to Mrs. Seagrave, she replied that she was
quite satisfied with the ship having no motion, and did not feel
herself equal to going on shore; it was therefore decided that she
should remain on board with the two younger children, and that, on the
following day, Mr. Seagrave should take William and Tommy to see Cape
Town, and return on board before night.

The next morning, Captain Osborn lowered down one of the large boats,
and Mr. Seagrave, accompanied by Captain Osborn, went on shore with
William and Tommy. Tommy had promised his mamma to be very good; but
that he always did, and almost always forgot his promise directly he
was out of sight. As soon as they landed, they went up to a gentleman's
house, with whom Captain Osborn was acquainted. They stayed for a few
minutes to drink a glass of lemonade, for it was very warm; and then it
was proposed that they should go to the Company's Gardens and see the
wild beasts which were confined there, at which William was much
delighted, and Tommy clapped his hands with joy.

"What are the Company's Gardens, papa?" inquired William.

"They were made by the Dutch East India Company, at the time that the
Cape of Good Hope was in their possession. They are, properly speaking,
Botanical Gardens; but, at the same time, the wild animals are kept
there. Formerly there were a great many, but they have not been paid
attention to lately, for we have plenty of these animals in England
now."

"What shall we see?" said Tommy.

"You will see lions, Tommy, a great many in a large den together," said
Captain Osborn.

"Oh! I want to see a lion."

"You must not go too near them, recollect."

"No, I won't," said Tommy.

As soon as they entered the gates, Tommy escaped from Captain Osborn,
and ran away in his hurry to see the lions; but Captain Osborn caught
him again, and held him fast by the hand.

"Here is a pair of very strange birds," said the gentleman who
accompanied them; "they are called Secretaries, on account of the
feathers which hang behind their heads, as the feather of a pen does
when a clerk puts it behind his ear: but they are very useful, for they
are snake-killers; indeed, they would, if they could, live altogether
upon snakes, which they are very great enemies to, never letting one
escape. They strike them with their feet, and with such force as to
kill them immediately."

"Are there many snakes in this country?" inquired William.

"Yes, and very venomous snakes," replied Mr. Seagrave; "so that these
birds are very useful in destroying them. You observe, William, that
the Almighty, in his wisdom, has so arranged it that no animal
(especially of a noxious kind) shall be multiplied to excess, but kept
under by being preyed upon by some other; indeed, wherever in any
country an animal exists in any quantity, there is generally found
another animal which destroys it. The Secretary inhabits this country
where snakes exist in numbers, that it may destroy them: in England the
bird would be of little value."

"But some animals are too large or too fierce to be destroyed by
others, papa; for instance, the elephant and the lion."

"Very true; but these larger animals do not breed so fast, and
therefore their numbers do not increase so rapidly. For instance, a
pair of elephants will not have more than one young one in the space of
two years or more; while the rabbits, which are preyed upon and the
food of so many other beasts as well as birds, would increase
enormously, if they were not destroyed. Examine through the whole of
creation, and you will find that there is an unerring hand, which
invariably preserves the balance exact; and that there are no more
mouths than for which food is provided, although accidental
circumstances may for a time occasion a slight alteration."

They continued their walk until they came to the den of the lions. It
was a large place, in closed with a strong and high wall of stone, with
only one window to it for the visitors to look at them, as it was open
above. This window was wide, and with strong iron bars running from the
top to the bottom; but the width between the bars was such that a lion
could put his paw out with ease; and they were therefore cautioned not
to go too near. It was a fine sight to see eight or ten of these
noble-looking animals lying down in various attitudes, quite
indifferent apparently to the people outside--basking in the sun, and
slowly moving their tufted tails to and fro. William examined them at a
respectful distance from the bars; and so did Tommy, who had his mouth
open with astonishment, in which there was at first not a little fear
mixed, but he soon got bolder. The gentleman who had accompanied them,
and who had been long at the Cape, was relating to Mr. Seagrave and
Captain Osborn some very curious anecdotes about the lion. William and
they were so interested, that they did not perceive that Tommy had
slipped back to the grated window of the den. Tommy looked at the
lions, and then he wanted to make them move about: there was one fine
full-grown young lion, about three years old, who was lying down
nearest to the window; and Tommy took up a stone and threw it at him:
the lion appeared not to notice it, for he did not move, although he
fixed his eyes upon Tommy; so Tommy became more brave, and threw
another, and then another, approaching each time nearer to the bars of
the window.

All of a sudden the lion gave a tremendous roar, and sprang at Tommy,
bounding against the iron bars of the cage with such force that, had
they not been very strong, it must have broken them. As it was, they
shook and rattled so that pieces of mortar fell from the stones. Tommy
shrieked; and, fortunately for himself, fell back and tumbled head over
heels, or the lion's paws would have reached him. Captain Osborn and
Mr. Seagrave ran up to Tommy, and picked him up: he roared with fright
as soon as he could fetch his breath, while the lion stood at the bars,
lashing his tail, snarling, and showing his enormous fangs.

"Take me away--take me on board the ship!" cried Tommy, who was
terribly frightened.

"What did you do, Tommy?" said Captain Osborn.

"I won't throw any more stones, Mr. Lion; I won't indeed!" cried Tommy,
looking terrified towards the animal.

Mr. Seagrave scolded Tommy well for his foolish conduct, and by degrees
he became more composed; but he did not recover himself until they had
walked some distance away from the lion's den.

They then looked at the other animals which were to be seen, Tommy
keeping a most respectful distance from every one of them. He wouldn't
even go near to a Cape sheep with a broad tail.

When they had seen everything, they went back to the gentleman's house
to dinner; and, after dinner, they returned on board.

Chapter IV

The following morning the fresh water and provisions were received on
board, and once more the Pacific stretched her broad canvas to the
winds, and there was every prospect of a rapid voyage, as for many days
she continued her passage with a fair wind and flowing sheet. But this
did not continue: it fell calm, and remained so for nearly three days,
during which not a breath of wind was to be seen on the wide expanse of
water; all nature appeared as if in repose, except that now and then an
albatross would drop down at some distance from the stern of the
vessel, and, as he swam lazily along with his wings half-furled, pick
up the fragments of food which had been thrown over the side.

"What great bird is that, Ready?" inquired William.

"It is an albatross, the largest sea-bird we have. Their wings are very
long. I have seen them shot, and they have measured eleven feet from
the tip of one wing to the tip of the other when the wings have been
spread out."

"It is the first one that I have seen," said William.

"Because you seldom meet them north of the Cape, sir: people do say
that they go to sleep on the wing, balancing themselves high up in the
air."

"Papa," said William, turning to Mr. Seagrave, who stood by, "why is it
that one bird can swim and another cannot? You recollect when Tommy
drove the hens into the large pond, they flounced about, and their
feathers became wet, and would support them no longer, and then they
were drowned. Now, how does a sea-bird contrive to remain so long on
the water?"

"Because a sea-bird, William, is provided with a sort of oil on purpose
to anoint the outside of its feathers, and this oil prevents the water
from penetrating them. Have you not observed the ducks on shore
dressing their feathers with their bills? They were then using this oil
to make their feathers waterproof."

"How odd!"

"Don't say how odd, William; that is not an expression to use when we
talk of the wonderful provisions made by the Almighty hand, who
neglects not the meanest of his creatures - say rather, how wonderful!"

"That's very true, sir," observed Ready; "but still you must not be too
hard upon Master William, for I have heard many a grownup man make use
of the same expression."

On the third day of the calm, the barometer fell so low as to induce
Captain Osborn to believe that they should have a severe gale, and
every preparation was made to meet it, should it come on. Nor was he
mistaken: towards midnight the clouds gathered up fast, and as they
gathered up in thick piles, heaped one over the other, the lightning
darted through them in every direction; and as the clouds rose up, so
did the wind, but at first only in heavy gusts, and then lulling again
to a calm.

"Ready," said Captain Osborn, "how do you think we shall have the
wind?"

"Why, Captain Osborn, to tell you the truth, I don't think it will be
steady to one point long. It may at first blow hard from the north, but
it's my idea it will shift soon to some other quarter, and blow still
harder."

"What think you, Mackintosh?"

"We'll have plenty of it, and a long steady gale, that's my notion; and
the sooner we ship the dead lights the better."

Mr. Seagrave, with William, happened to be standing by at the time of
this conversation, and at the term dead lights Willie's face expressed
some anxiety. Ready perceived it, and said--

"That's a foolish name they give to the shutters which go over the
cabin windows to prevent the water from breaking into the cabin when a
vessel sails before the wind; you know we had them on the last time
that we had a gale."

"But, Ready," said Captain Osborn, "why do you think that we shall have
a shift of wind?"

"Well, I don't know; perhaps I was wrong," replied the old man, "and
Mr. Mackintosh is right: the wind does seem to come steady from the
north-east, that's certain;" and Ready walked away to the binnacle, and
looked at the compass. Mr. Seagrave and William then went below, and
Mr. Mackintosh went forward to give his orders. As soon as they were
all gone, Ready went up again to Captain Osborn and said:

"Captain Osborn, it's not for me to contradict Mr. Mackintosh, but
that's of little consequence in a time like this: I should have held to
my opinion, had it not been that the gentleman passenger and his son
were standing by, but now, as the coast is clear, I tell you that we
shall have something worse than a gale of wind. I have been in these
latitudes before, and I am an old seaman, as you know. There's
something in the air, and there has been something during the last
three days of calm, which reminds me too well of what I have seen here
before; and I am sure that we shall have little better than a
hurricane, as far as wind goes - and worse in one point, that it will
last much longer than hurricanes generally do. I have been watching,
and even the birds tell me so, and they are told by their nature, which
is never mistaken. That calm has been nothing more than a repose of the
winds previous to their being roused up to do their worst; and that is
my real opinion?"

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