Our instructions were to be at St Jago, until three British ships, then
loading, were ready for sea, and then to convey them through the Caicos,
or windward passage. As our stay was therefore likely to be ten days or
a fortnight at the shortest, the boats were hoisted out, and we made our
little arrangements and preparations for taking all the recreation in
our power; and our worthy skipper, taught and stiff as he was at sea,
always encouraged all kinds of fun and larking, both amongst the men and
the officers, on occasions like the present. Amongst his other pleasant
qualities, he was a great boat racer, constantly building and altering
gigs and pulling boats, at his own expense, and matching the men against
each other for small prizes.
He had just finished what the old carpenter considered his chef
d’oeuvre, and a curious affair this same masterpiece was. In the first
place it was forty-two feet long over all, and only three and a half
feet beam--the planking was not much above an eighth of an inch in
thickness, so that if one of the crew had slipped his foot off the
stretcher, it must have gone through the bottom. There was a standing
order that no man was to go into it with shoes on. She was to pull six
oars, and her crew were the captains of the tops, the primest seamen in
the ship, and the steersman, no less a character than the skipper
himself.
Her name, for I love to be particular, was the Dragonfly; she was
painted out and in of a bright red, amounting to a flame colour, oars red
the men wearing trowsers and shirts of red flannel, and red net
nightcaps--which common uniform the captain himself wore. I think I
have said before, that he was a very handsome man, but if I have not I
say so now, and when he had taken his seat, and the gigs, all fine men,
were seated each with his oar held upright upon his knees ready to be
dropped into the water at the same instant, the craft and her crew
formed to my eye as pretty a plaything for grown children as ever was
seen. “Give way, men,” the oars dipped as clean as so many knives,
without a sparkle, the gallant fellows stretched out, and away shot the
Dragonfly, like an arrow, the green water foaming into white smoke at
the bows, and hissing away in her wake.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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