- end_line
- 3142
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3074
- text
- potations—and with many imprecations, concluded by driving everybody
out of the cabin. We tumbled up the gangway in high good-humour.
Upon deck everything looked so quiet that some of the most pugnacious
spirits actually lamented that there was so little prospect of an
exhilarating disturbance before morning. It was not five minutes,
however, ere these fellows were gratified.
Sydney Ben—said to be a runaway Ticket-of-Leave-Man, and for reasons of
his own, one of the few who still remained on duty—had, for the sake of
the fun, gone down with the rest into the cabin; where Bembo, who
meanwhile was left in charge of the deck, had frequently called out for
him. At first, Ben pretended not to hear; but on being sung out for
again and again, bluntly refused; at the same time, casting some
illiberal reflections on the Mowree’s maternal origin, which the latter
had been long enough among the sailors to understand as in the highest
degree offensive. So just after the men came up from below, Bembo
singled him out, and gave him such a cursing in his broken lingo that
it was enough to frighten one. The convict was the worse for liquor;
indeed the Mowree had been tippling also, and before we knew it, a blow
was struck by Ben, and the two men came together like magnets.
The Ticket-of-Leave-Man was a practised bruiser; but the savage knew
nothing of the art pugilistic: and so they were even. It was clear
hugging and wrenching till both came to the deck. Here they rolled over
and over in the middle of a ring which seemed to form of itself. At
last the white man’s head fell back, and his face grew purple. Bembo’s
teeth were at his throat. Rushing in all round, they hauled the savage
off, but not until repeatedly struck on the head would he let go.
His rage was now absolutely demoniac; he lay glaring and writhing on
the deck, without attempting to rise. Cowed, as they supposed he was,
from his attitude, the men, rejoiced at seeing him thus humbled, left
him; after rating him, in sailor style, for a cannibal and a coward.
Ben was attended to, and led below.
Soon after this, the rest also, with but few exceptions, retired into
the forecastle; and having been up nearly all the previous night, they
quickly dropped about the chests and rolled into the hammocks. In an
hour’s time, not a sound could be heard in that part of the ship.
Before Bembo was dragged away, the mate had in vain endeavoured to
separate the combatants, repeatedly striking the Mowree; but the seamen
interposing, at last kept him off.
And intoxicated as he was, when they dispersed, he knew enough to
charge the steward—a steady seaman be it remembered—with the present
safety of the ship; and then went below, when he fell directly into
another drunken sleep.
Having remained upon deck with the doctor some time after the rest had
gone below, I was just on the point of following him down, when I saw
the Mowree rise, draw a bucket of water, and holding it high above his
head, pour its contents right over him. This he repeated several times.
There was nothing very peculiar in the act, but something else about
him struck me. However, I thought no more of it, but descended the
scuttle.
After a restless nap, I found the atmosphere of the forecastle so
close, from nearly all the men being down at the same time, that I
hunted up an old pea-jacket and went on deck; intending to sleep it out
there till morning. Here I found the cook and steward, Wymontoo, Rope
Yarn, and the Dane; who, being all quiet, manageable fellows, and
holding aloof from the rest since the captain’s departure, had been
ordered by the mate not to go below until sunrise. They were lying
under the lee of the bulwarks; two or three fast asleep, and the others
smoking their pipes, and conversing.
- title
- Chunk 2