Voyage of the Destroyer from New York to Brazil | Page 6

on the Destroyer:
The old year was escorted out and the new year ushered in at Fort de
France Bay, by my sailors in a glorification ashore becoming the
importance of the timely occasion. William, one of the smartest of the

crew, came aboard from the hospital, some days later, minus a piece of
his liver, which quiet John, the fireman, snipped off with a jack-knife in
an argument over a bottle.
Now, John, you wouldn't think to see him, the drudge at work, would
say bali to a goose. But on a New Year it was different. There was no
arrest made.
A policeman brought aboard a sheath-knife that was found at the scene
of the fray, merely with the request that "when the crew went ashore
again they would leave their knives behind." This reasonable
suggestion was strictly respected.
All of our stores were resorted at the Island, dried and repacked.
Moving to Fort de France Bay, December 21st, repairs were made there
till January 5th, 1894, on which date the Destroyer again sailed, at early
daylight.
Our condition at sea we find is better than it was. The Destroyer goes
with some degree of safety now, benefited, to be sure, by her late
repairs. The trade winds are still blowing very strong, and although
towing in the teeth of the wind, the ship is kept free and handled in all
respects without the wear and tear on a man's soul that was suffered in
the early part of the voyage. But that, now, is neither here nor there.
The procession has passed!
Mr. Mondonca, minister from Brazil, assured us sailors before leaving
New York that all the sea south of the "Gulf" would be "like a
lake"--We found it so! But what lake, I'll never tell!
Our company of thirteen, I have said, was made good at Martinique.
One of the number now is Sir Charles, the "hero of Soudan." Sir
Charles is not only in the expedition, but is one of us on the Destroyer,
to pass the Rubicon in her, now that she has crossed the Gulf. Previous
to this his sailing had always been in large ships, therefore he could not,
for a long time, be reconcile' to the poetical motion of the Destroyer of
lesser dimensions.

Sir Charles was, however, a stern disciplinarian.
Numberless were the duels he would have fought on the Santuit. But
for the want of gentlemanly principles, no one accepted his
challenges--not even the nigger cook, to whom he gave choice of
weapons. This sanguinary spirit spurting from the third gunner's mate
on the voyage, what will be the state of the Destroyer's decks? I ask
myself, when the gunner himself appears and the fighting captain takes
charge.
But the cook, seizing the frying-pan in his black fist, against all the
rules of dueling, don't cher know, chased Sir Charles around the deck.
That wasn't all; the nigger having gained on Sir Charles sufficiently to
reach him, he thought, let fly the blooming pan, but hit something hard.
Instead of Sir Charles's head, the steam winch caught the blow, and of
course the pan broke into a thousand pieces. It was a bad blow for Sir
Charles all the same. Capt. Sturges hearing of the mishap--he was
bound to hear of it--it was the Santuit's slapjack pan that was broken,
and hearing of Sir Charles's thirst for blood, called him to the bridge for
an interview, which could be heard all over the harbor, to the effect that
"any more such work on the Santuit, sir, and I'll make shark bait of
your d----d carcass, d'ye hear? Now, go forward."
Sir Charles h'went!
Colonel B----, with a twinkle of humor, transferred Sir Charles then to
the Destroyer--"to stand by the captain."
Now the crew of the Destroyer having had, I may say, a pretty salt time
of it, were ready and willing for anything fresh. The hero of "many
bases" dropped into the vacancy like one born for the place.
But what a fighter he was, to be sure! A duel on the Destroyer bless
you, came to a focus in no time. No one up to the present had thought
of personal combat--hadn't found time to even think of a quarrel. But
now ten paces were marked off on the Destroyer's deck, and had not Sir
Charles's friend and countryman, Wildgoose, the engineer, extracted all
the bullets from the revolvers, some one on board might have been hurt!

I know it is a sin for me to grin over the reminiscence of an enthusiast
heading for war; but one may be chief mourner at a funeral itself and be
obliged to laugh.
The chap was a good rifle shot, there was no doubt about that. He was
known to have emptied