Omoo: Adventures in the South SeasMelville, Herman
General
Omoo: Adventures in the South Seas
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
I must explain myself here. All we wanted was to have the ship snugly
anchored in Papeetee Bay; entertaining no doubt that, could this be
done, it would in some way or other peaceably lead to our emancipation.
Without a downright mutiny, there was but one way to accomplish this:
to induce the men to refuse all further duty, unless it were to work
the vessel in. The only difficulty lay in restraining them within
proper bounds. Nor was it without certain misgivings, that I found
myself so situated, that I must necessarily link myself, however
guardedly, with such a desperate company; and in an enterprise, too, of
which it was hard to conjecture what might be the result. But anything
like neutrality was out of the question; and unconditional submission
was equally so.
On going forward, we found them ten times more tumultuous than ever.
After again restoring some degree of tranquillity, we once more urged
our plan of quietly refusing duty, and awaiting the result. At first,
few would hear of it; but in the end, a good number were convinced by
our representations. Others held out. Nor were those who thought with
us in all things to be controlled.
Upon Wilson’s coming on deck to enter his boat, he was beset on all
sides; and, for a moment, I thought the ship would be seized before his
very eyes.
“Nothing more to say to you, men: my arrangements are made. Go forward,
where you belong. I’ll take no insolence;” and, in a tremor, Wilson
hurried over the side in the midst of a volley of execrations.
Shortly after his departure, the mate ordered the cook and steward into
his boat; and saying that he was going to see how the captain did, left
us, as before, under the charge of Bembo.
At this time we were lying becalmed, pretty close in with the land
(having gone about again), our main-topsail flapping against the mast
with every roll.
The departure of the consul and Jermin was followed by a scene
absolutely indescribable. The sailors ran about deck like madmen;
Bembo, all the while leaning against the taff-rail by himself, smoking
his heathenish stone pipe, and never interfering.
The cooper, who that morning had got himself into a fluid of an
exceedingly high temperature, now did his best to regain the favour of
the crew. “Without distinction of party,” he called upon all hands to
step up, and partake of the contents of his bucket.
But it was quite plain that, before offering to intoxicate others, he
had taken the wise precaution of getting well tipsy himself. He was now
once more happy in the affection of his shipmates, who, one and all,
pronounced him sound to the kelson.
The Pisco soon told; and, with great difficulty, we restrained a party
in the very act of breaking into the after-hold in pursuit of more. All
manner of pranks were now played.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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