Omoo | Page 7

to
windward, no gale could bow her over: with spars erect, she looked
right up into the wind's eye, and so she
But after all, Little Jule was not to be confided in. Lively enough, and
playful she was, but on that very account the more to be distrusted.
Who knew, but that like some vivacious old mortal all at once sinking
into a decline, she might, some dark night, spring a leak and carry us all
to the bottom. However, she played us no such ugly trick, and therefore,
I wrong Little Jule in supposing it.
She had a free roving commission. According to her papers she might
go whither she pleased--whaling, sealing, or anything else. Sperm
whaling, however, was what she relied upon; though, as yet, only two
fish had been brought alongside.
The day they sailed out of Sydney Heads, the ship's company, all told,
numbered some thirty-two souls; now, they mustered about twenty; the
rest had deserted. Even the three junior mates who had headed the
whaleboats were gone: and of the four harpooners, only one was left, a
wild New Zealander, or "Mowree" as his countrymen are more
commonly called in the Pacific. But this was not all. More than half the
seamen remaining were more or less unwell from a long sojourn in a
dissipated port; some of them wholly unfit for duty, one or two
dangerously ill, and the rest managing to stand their watch though they
could do but little.
The captain was a young cockney, who, a few years before, had
emigrated to Australia, and, by some favouritism or other,
had-pro-cured the command of the vessel, though in no wise competent.
He was essentially a landsman, and though a man of education, no
more meant for the sea than a hairdresser. Hence everybody made fun
of him. They called him "The Cabin Boy," "Paper Jack," and half a
dozen other undignified names. In truth, the men made no secret of the

derision in which they held him; and as for the slender gentleman
himself, he knew it all very well, and bore himself with becoming
meekness. Holding as little intercourse with them as possible, he left
everything to the chief mate, who, as the story went, had been given his
captain in charge. Yet, despite his apparent unobtrusiveness, the silent
captain had more to do with the men than they thought. In short,
although one of your sheepish-looking fellows, he had a sort of still,
timid cunning, which no one would have suspected, and which, for that
very reason, was all the more active. So the bluff mate, who always
thought he did what he pleased, was occasionally made a tool of; and
some obnoxious measures which he carried out, in spite of all
growlings, were little thought to originate with the dapper little fellow
in nankeen jacket and white canvas pumps. But, to all appearance, at
least, the mate had everything his own way; indeed, in most things this
was actually the case; and it was quite plain that the captain stood in
awe of him.
So far as courage, seamanship, and a natural aptitude for keeping
riotous spirits in subjection were concerned, no man was better
qualified for his vocation than John Jermin. He was the very beau-ideal
of the efficient race of short, thick-set men. His hair curled in little
rings of iron gray all over his round bullet head. As for his countenance,
it was strongly marked, deeply pitted with the small-pox. For the rest,
there was a fierce little squint out of one eye; the nose had a rakish
twist to one side; while his large mouth, and great white teeth, looked
absolutely sharkish when he laughed. In a word, no one, after getting a
fair look at him, would ever think of improving the shape of his nose,
wanting in symmetry as it was. Notwithstanding his pugnacious looks,
however, Jermin had a heart as big as a bullock's; that you saw at a
glance.
Such was our mate; but he had one failing: he abhorred all weak
infusions, and cleaved manfully to strong drink.. At all times he was
more or less under the influence of it. Taken in moderate quantities, I
believe, in my soul, it did a man like him good; brightened his eyes,
swept the cobwebs out of his brain, and regulated his pulse. But the
worst of it was, that sometimes he drank too much, and a more
obstreperous fellow than Jermin in his cups, you seldom came across.
He was always for having a fight; but the very men he flogged loved

him as a brother, for he had such an irresistibly good-natured way of
knocking them down, that no one could find it in his heart to bear
malice against him.