Chapter II: At Sea

The party, after descending the hill so far, completed the journey on sledges, a species of toboganning that at first seems perilous in the extreme. A man stands behind on the sledge, and steers with one foot; the declivity is exceedingly steep, and the mad race downwards, a distance, as far as I can remember, of about a mile and a half, is accomplished in little over two minutes.

Yet I never heard of an accident taking place, or of any one being dashed against the stone wall.

Teenie sat on Antonio’s knee, and kept her eyes closely shut, until the speed slackened, and they found themselves safely at the foot, and near the town.

And now they once more visited the hotel, and sitting out on a cool, tree-shaded verandah, thoroughly enjoyed the delicious iced sherbet and fruits placed before them.

But now the captain engages the landlord himself in conversation. They talk in the beautiful silvery language of Spain.

Then the landlord retires, and Antonio lights a huge cigar. He tells the boys and Teenie to stroll up the streets for half-an-hour, and they gladly obey. Meanwhile the little skipper sits and thinks.

The waiter--polite to a fault--brings him paper, pen, and ink, and he writes several letters. One is to the honest fisherman, Teenie’s father. You may easily guess what that was about. It finished up, however, with this sentence:--

“Be not uneasy. She is so happy night and day, and I will guard and protect her like the apple of my eye.”

He did not say which eye, but I dare say he did not refer to the demon eye, as some of the sailors on board were ill-mannered enough to call it.

Presently the affable little landlord returned, and with him a young lady of some twenty summers--a dark-eyed rather pretty brunette, with a tropically bronzed skin, and eye-lashes that swept her cheeks, and very neatly dressed.

“Not English?”

“No, Capitan, Español.”

“But you can talk good English?”

“Yes, I can both write and speak English, Señor.”

“Right! Has the good landlord told you everything?”

“Everything to me he has told; and I am willing to sail the seas. Been already to Rio and Buenos Ayres. Oh, good, all good! I shall teach and take care of your little child, and the wages will suit.”

She spoke volubly.

“See here,” she added, “characters from many sweet Angleese ladies whom I have served.”

Antonio just glanced at them, and was satisfied.

“You’ll get ready, then; and I will call for you to-morrow.”

Just then the children returned, and Antonio introduced Teenie to her maid and governess.

“You will love her, won’t you?”

Teenie looked her all over critically.

“Yes,” she said, “I _think_ I can. I’ll try ever so hard.”

“That’s a dear,” said Miss Leona; “now kiss me.”

“Oh no,” cried Teenie: “much too soon. In a week--perhaps.”

The boat went back laden with grapes, bananas, and pine-apples.

The men had leave, and came on board sober, all save one or two, who were obstreperous. Captain Antonio put them in irons, to show he was not to be trifled with, and to encourage the others.

On the morning of the third day, Leona being now on board, the _Zingara_ got up anchor, set sail, and put out to sea once more.

* * * * *

They were bound now for the distant islands of the Pacific Ocean. You have but to look at a map of the world, reader, to note how numerous they are. Truly their name is legion. Have those beautiful isles of the sea been raised by volcanic agency, and will they in course of time be joined together to form one mighty continent; or are they the remains of some ancient land that has been broken up, by the constant action of the ocean currents, into what we now see them?

However, there they are. Many are wild and savage in the extreme, both as to their people and the land itself, and many are inhabited by implacable cannibals.

Captain Antonio held a council with his two mates. In what direction should they steer for these islands, at which they were to engage in sponge and pearl fishing?

“I’d favour the Cape of Good Hope route,” said the mate Archie; “there is less danger to the good old--no, _new_ ship.”

“An’ I’d go by the Horn,” Paddy put in. “What about the danger to a grand strong barque like ours, and sure we ain’t ’long shore men, but sailors every inch.”

“Well,” said Antonio, “as you two differ, I suppose I have the casting vote, so round the Horn we go.”

“Hurray!” cried Paddy.

“I’m agreeable,” said Archie.

So this was decided.

Ah, little did they know of the dangers and difficulties that in a few months’ time they would have to encounter.

But there was no man on board this brave barque, that was likely to fear the danger he had not yet faced.

The course from Madeira lay almost south, skirting the beautiful Canary Islands and lofty Teneriffe to the west, then on to the Cape Verd Islands.

Thence, with a point or two of westerly in it, the course was still southward to the wild shores of South America.

The weather continued all that was desirable, till the time the vessel reached the region of equatorial calms, called by sailors the doldrums.

Here are great hills of seas, as smooth as glass, but all in constant motion. There is not a breath of wind. The sails may be set and ready to receive it, but it seldom comes, except in uncertain cats’-paws, that may move the good ship on a hundred yards, then die away, and leave the canvas to flap, or sheets to crack.

The motion of the ship is distressing at such times. Down below everything is tumbling about, though in a slow and uncertain manner. The chairs may take a journey from one side of the room to the other, but speedily return; and the piano, if not lashed, would do so likewise.

In these doldrums, of which a steamer is of course quite independent, a sailing ship may lie for weeks--

“Day after day, day after day,
And neither breath nor motion,
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.”

The sea has a glazed or greasy appearance, and but very little life is visible, except an occasional whale ploughing his solitary way through the silent and mysterious ocean; or from aloft at times you may witness a great patch of the water rippled as with rain-drops and sparkling with silver. This is caused by shoals--myriads and millions--of tiny fishes, a species of whitebait.

Or you may see the great black fin of a basking shark, high above the water, and in shape not unlike the upright hand of a sundial; and on these fins you may observe a beautiful seagull or two perching, and pitching also. Perhaps Mr. Shark likes it.

But there may be seen many sharks about and around the ship as well as these others, that if you fell into the water would disappear in all directions for a few seconds, but return in force, each one endeavouring to win the race and be the first to seize you. A man is often thus rent into ribbons by these tigers of the sea.

Great banks of rock-like towers roll up and lie on the horizon all night long. Seldom do you hear thunder muttering among these, but the play of the lightning behind them is incessant, so that in the darkest night their shape and form are easily made out. Sometimes the sea is splendidly phosphorescent. If you drop a piece of coal overboard, it seems like a lump of living, whirling fire sinking down, down into the unfathomable depths of the ocean. Even sharks themselves and other strange fishes stir up the phosphorescence, and dart about like fiery serpents.

By night flying fishes constantly flew on board, and flopped about the deck till pussy caught one, and the watch picked up the others.

Most tender and delicious tit-bits they are for breakfast, the taste and flavour being somewhat like that of a herring, only more delicate.

* * * * *

Wishing to get on his voyage, Captain Antonio Garcia (pronounce Gartsia, please) ordered the boats out, and the ship was thus towed pretty nearly all day long.

At long, long last the wind began to blow. The good ship crossed the equator. She was becalmed another week, then it was all plain sailing to Rio de Janeiro.

I do not intend to describe Rio. Go and see it if you can before you die. It is--as seen from the sea, at all events--one of the most romantic cities in the wide, wide world. Edinburgh itself is not more romantic.

Here Antonio landed with the boys and little Teenie, and gave them one other delightful day in the city, and among the wild hills around, from which they not only had a bird’s-eye view of the city, with its marvellous land-locked harbour, but a view of the far-off blue Atlantic itself.

By the time they had reached Rio, the fisherman’s wee daughter was not only a favourite fore and aft, but she had thoroughly learned how to walk the deck, in even the roughest seas. In other words, she had gained her sea-legs. Of course Barclay and puss were her constant playmates when on deck, but this was not always; so in their absence she would bestow her affections, and impose her fun on some of the sailors, and ride at the gallop up and down, fore and aft, on their shoulders, like a little madcap, and screaming with delight.

She was very attentive, however, to the lessons given to her by her maid and governess every forenoon; but as soon as she did escape, the young lady had little more control over her.

The men had rigged her out in a very becoming sailor costume of serge, and with this she was delighted.

But she was as fearless as a young ocelot, and as nimble as an ape. Indeed, there were two beautiful monkeys on board, and they were as often in the rigging as not. They were mischievous, but affectionate. Teenie used to take the rigging too, and instead of going through the square opening called the lubber’s hole, she used to get up the thin ratlins that led round the edge, thus hanging for the time being back downwards, like a fly on the ceiling.

This was daring in the extreme. But one day, to the astonishment and terror of all, Teenie was found far, far above the maintop, sitting indeed on the maintop-gallant cross-trees, and beside the biggest monkey.

A sailor was sent up to fetch her down, for the position was fraught with extreme danger.

But in no other way would this wild fisher lassie consent to go below, except on the sailor’s back.

Luckily he was a strong hardy fellow, with all the daring of a steeple-jack, for, as soon as Teenie was fairly seated, the big monkey thought he might as well take advantage of this method of descent as Teenie, and so he too jumped on the good fellow’s shoulder.

As Teenie laughed and cheered all the way down, and the monkey yelled, there really was a good deal of fun on deck. But at last the sailor landed his crew safe and sound on deck.

“Oh dear me,” sighed Teenie, “Dosie” (the big monkey) “and I has had such fun, and, ’Tonio,” she added, “Dosie is just like a father to me.”

“To be sure, dearie; now will you promise me and Miss Leona that you won’t go up there again? You have given us all such a fright, you know.”

“Oh,” said Teenie, in a kind of patronising way, “if you is all feared, then I promise. Here is my hand.”

And Teenie kept her promise.

But this scene must change now to the far-off and wild islands of the Pacific Ocean.