Manuel Pereira; Or, The Sovereign Rule of South Carolina. F. Colburn Adams

as certain whether he jumped overboard or “stuck by the old tub.” He considered again the enormous port-charges imposed in Havana, the nature of his cargo in regard to tariff, should his vessel be condemned, and the ruinous expenses of discharging, &c. &c. together with the cost of repairs, providing they were ordered. All these things he considered with the mature deliberation of a good master, who has the general interests of all concerned at heart. So, if he put away for a port, in consideration of all concerned, his lien for general average would have strong ground in maritime law; yet there were circumstances connected with the sea-worthy condition of the craft—known to himself, if not to the port-wardens, and which are matters of condition between the master and his owners—which might, upon certain technicalities of law, give rise to strong objectionable points. With all these glancing before him, he, with commendable prudence, resolved to continue his voyage, and trust to kind Providence for the best.

      “Captain,” said the mate, as he stood viewing the prospect, with a marlinespike in one hand and a piece of seizing in the other—“I verily think, if that blow had stuck to us two hours longer, the old tub would a' rolled her futtocks out. Ye don't know her as well as I do. She's unlucky, anyhow; and always has been since she sot upon the water. I've seen her top-sides open like a basket when we've been trying to work her into port in heavy weather: and a craft that won't look nearer than nine points close-hauled, with a stiff breeze, ought to be sent into the Clyde for a coal-droger. An old vessel's a perfect pickpocket to owners; and if this old thing hasn't opened their purses as bad as her own seams, I'll miss my reckonin'. I've had a strong foreknowledge that we wouldn't get across in her. I saw the rats leaving in Jamaica—taking up their line of march, like marines on the fore. It's a sure sign. And then I'd a dream, which is as sure as a mainstay—never deceives me. I can depend on its presentiment. I have dreamed it several times, and we always had an awful passage. Twice we come within a bobstay of all goin' to Old Davy's store-house. I once escaped it, after I'd had my mysterious dream; but then I made the cook throw the cat overboard just after we left port, and 'twas all that saved us.”

      Thus saying, he went forward to serve a topgallant-stay that was stretched across the forecastle-hatch from the cat-heads, and had just been spliced by the men, followed by an old-fashioned sea-urchin, a miniature of the tar, with a mallet in his hand. The captain, although a firm, intelligent man, and little given to such notions of fate as are generally entertained by sailors, who never shake off the spiritual imaginings of the forecastle, displayed some discomfiture of mind at the strong character of the mate's misgivings. He knew him to be a good sailor, firm in his duty, and unmoved by peril. This he had proved on several occasions when sailing in other vessels, when the last ray of hope seemed to be gone. He approached the mate again, and with a pretence of making inquiries about the storage of the cargo, sounded him further in regard to his knowledge of the Bahamas, and with special reference to the port of Nassau.

      “Six-tenths of her timbers are as rotten as punk,” said the mate; “this North American timber never lasts long; the pump-wells are defective, and when we carry sail upon her, they don't affect the water in the lee-bilge, and she rolls it through her air-streaks like a whale. She'll damage the best cargo that ever floated, in that way. Take my word for it, skipper, she'll never go across the Banks; she'll roll to splinters as soon as she gets into them long seas; and if we get dismasted again, it's gone Davy.”

      “I know the old scow before to-day, and wouldn't shipped in her, if I hadn't been lime-juiced by that villanous landlord that advanced me the trifle. But I seen she was as deep as a luggerman's sand-barge, and I popped the old cat overboard, just as we rounded the point coming out o' Kingston harbour,” said a fine, active-looking sailor, who bore every trait of a royal tar, and boasted of serving five years in the East-India service, to his shipmate, while he continued to serve the stay. His words were spoken in a whisper, and not intended for the captain's ears. The captain overheard him, however; and, as a vessel is a world to those on board, the general sentiment carries its weight in controlling its affairs. Thus the strong feeling which prevailed on board could not fail to have its effect upon the captain's mind.

      “Well, we'll try her at any rate,” said the captain, walking aft and ordering the cabin-boy to bring up his glass; with which he took a sharp look to the southward.

      “I'd shape her course for a southern Yankee port. I haven't been much in them, but I think we'll stand a better chance there than in these ports where they make a speculation of wrecking, and would take a fellow's pea-jacket for salvage.” “We're always better under the protection of a consul than in a British port,” said the mate, coming aft to inform the skipper that they had carried away the chains of the bobstay, and that the bowsprit strained her in the knight-heads.

CHAPTER II. THE STEWARD'S BRAVERY.

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      DURING the worst of the gale, a mulatto man, with prominent features, indicating more of the mestino than negro character, was moving in busy occupation about the deck, and lending a willing hand with the rest of the crew to execute the captain's orders. He was rather tall, well formed, of a light olive complexion, with dark, piercing eyes, a straight, pointed nose, and well-formed mouth. His hair, also, had none of that crimp so indicative of negro extraction, but lay in dark curls all over his head. As he answered to the captain's orders, he spoke in broken accents, indicating but little knowledge of the English language. From the manner in which the crew treated him, it was evident that he was an established favourite with them as well as the officers, for each appeared to treat him more as an equal than a menial. He laboured cheerfully at sailor's duty until the first sea broke over her, when, seeing that the caboose was in danger of being carried from the lashings, and swept to leeward in the mass of wreck, he ran for that all-important apartment, and began securing it with extra lashings. He worked away with an earnestness that deserved all praise; not with the most satisfactory effect for an angry sea immediately succeeding completely stripped the furnace of its woodwork, and in its force carried the gallant fellow among its fragments into the lee-scuppers, where he saved himself from going overboard only by clinging to a stanchion.

      The second mate, a burly old salt, ran to his assistance, but, before he reached him, our hero had recovered himself, and was making another attempt to reach his coppers. It seemed to him as much a pending necessity to save the cooking apparatus as it did the captain to save the ship.

      “He no catch me dis time,” said he to the mate, smiling as he lifted his drenched head from among the fragments of the wreck. “I fix a de coffee in him yet, please God.”

      After securing the remains of his cooking utensils, he might be seen busily employed over a little stove, arranged at the foot of the stairs that led to the cabin. The smoke from the funnel several times annoyed the captain, who laboured under the excitement consequent upon the confusion of the wreck and peril of his vessel, bringing forth remonstrances of no very pleasant character. It proved that the good steward was considering how he could best serve Jack's necessities; and while they were laboring to save the ship, lie was studiously endeavoring to anticipate the craving of their stomachs. For when daylight appeared and the storm subsided, the steward had a bountiful dish of hot coffee to relieve Jack's fatigued system. It was received with warm welcome, and many blessings were heaped upon the head of the steward; A good “doctor” is as essential for the interests of owners and crew as a good captain. So it proved in this instance, for while he had a careful regard for the stores, he never failed to secure the praises of the crew.

      “When I gib de stove fire, den me gib de Cap-i-tan, wid de crew, some good breakfas,” said he with a gleam of satisfaction.

      This individual, reader, was Manuel Pereira, or, as he was called by his shipmates, Pe-rah-re. Manuel was born in Brazil, an extract of the Indians and Spanish, claiming birthright of the Portuguese nation. It mattered but very little to Manuel where he was born, for he had been so long tossed about in his hardy vocation that he had almost become alienated from the affections of birthplace. He had sailed so long under the protection of the main-jack of old England that he had formed a stronger allegiance to that country than to any