Letters From High Latitudes | Page 7

the skill of the craftsman and the refinement of the artist--to whose
person, moreover, a paper cap, white vestments, and the sacrificial
knife at his girdle, gave something of a sacerdotal character--I did not
consider unfit to raise the ship's guardian image to its appointed place;
and after two hours' reverential handiwork, I had the satisfaction of
seeing the well-known lovely face, with its golden hair, and smile that
might charm all malice from the elements, beaming like a happy omen
above our bows.
Shortly afterwards Fitz came alongside, after a most successful foray
among the fish-wives. He was sitting in the stern-sheets, up to his knees
in vegetables, with seven elderly hens beside him, and a
dissipated-looking cock under his arm, with regard to whose
qualifications its late proprietor had volunteered the most satisfactory
assurances. I am also bound to mention, that protruding from his
coat-pocket were certain sheets of music, with the name of "Alice
Louisa," written therein in a remarkably pretty hand, which led me to
believe that the Doctor had not entirely confined his energies to the
acquisition of hens and vegetables. The rest of the day was spent in
packing away our newly-purchased stores, and making the ship as tidy
as circumstances would admit. I am afraid, however, many a smart
yachtsman would have been scandalized at our decks, lumbered up
with hen-coops, sacks of coal, and other necessaries, which, like the

Queen of Spain's legs, not only ought never to be seen, but must not be
supposed even to exist, on board a tip-top craft.
By the evening, the gale, which had been blowing all day, had
increased to a perfect hurricane. At nine o'clock we let go a second
anchor; and I confess, as we sat comfortably round the fire in the bright
cheerful little cabin, and listened to the wind whistling and shrieking
through the cordage, that none of us were sorry to find ourselves in port
on such a night, instead of tossing on the wild Atlantic--though we little
knew that even then the destroying angel was busy with the fleet of
fishing-boats which had put to sea so gallantly on the evening of our
arrival. By morning the neck of the gale was broken, and the sun shone
brightly on the white rollers as they chased each other to the shore; but
a Queen's ship was steaming into the bay, with sad news of ruin out to
seaward;--towing behind her, boats, water-logged, or bottom
upwards,--while a silent crowd of women on the quay were waiting to
learn on what homes among them the bolt had fallen.
About twelve o'clock the Glasgow packet came in, and a few minutes
afterwards I had the honour of receiving on my quarter-deck a
gentleman who seemed a cross between the German student and swell
commercial gent. On his head he wore a queer kind of smoking-cap,
with the peak cocked over his left ear; then came a green
shooting-jacket, and flashy silk tartan waistcoat, set off by a gold chain,
hung about in innumerable festoons,--while light trousers and knotty
Wellington boots completed his costume, and made the wearer look as
little like a seaman as need be. It appeared, nevertheless, that the
individual in question was Mr. Ebenezer Wyse, my new sailing-master;
so I accepted Captain C.'s strong recommendation as a set-off against
the silk tartan; explained to the new comer the position he was to
occupy on board, and gave orders for sailing in an hour. The
multitudinous chain, moreover, so lavishly displayed, turned out to be
an ornament of which Mr. Wyse might well be proud; and the
following history of its acquisition reconciled me more than anything
else to my Master's unnautical appearance.
Some time ago there was a great demand in Australia for small river

steamers, which certain Scotch companies undertook to supply. The
difficulty, however, was to get such fragile tea-kettles across the ocean;
five started one after another in murderous succession, and each came
to grief before it got half-way to the equator; the sixth alone remained
with which to try a last experiment. Should she arrive, her price would
more than compensate the pecuniary loss already sustained, though it
could not bring to life the hands sacrificed in the mad speculation; by
this time, however, even the proverbial recklessness of the seamen of
the port was daunted, and the hearts of two crews had already failed
them at the last moment of starting, when my friend of the chain
volunteered to take the command. At the outset of his voyage
everything went well; a fair wind (her machinery was stowed away,
and she sailed under canvas) carried the little craft in an incredibly
short time a thousand miles to the southward of the Cape, when one
day, as she