the cabin himself. As soon as sail was on the vessel, and her course shaped, he followed his darling companion down into the cabin, and until the contents were exhausted was never sufficiently sober to make his appearance on deck; so that Newton Forster was, in fact, the responsible master of the vessel.
The wind, which had been favourable at the time of heaving up the anchor, changed, and blew directly in their teeth, before they were well out of sight of the port of Overton. On the third day they were stretching off the land, to meet the first of the tide, under a light breeze and smooth water, when Newton perceived various objects floating in the offing. A small thing is a good prize to a coaster; even an empty breaker is not to be despised; and Newton kept away a point or two, that he might close and discover what the objects were. He soon distinguished one or two casks, swimming deeply, broken spars, and a variety of other articles. When the sloop was in the midst of them, Newton hove to, tossed out the little skiff, and in the course of an hour, unknown to his captain, who was in bed sleeping off the effect of his last potations, brought alongside, and contrived to parbuckle in, the casks, and as many others of the floating articles as he could conveniently stow upon her decks. The boat was again hoisted in, by the united exertions of himself and his crew, consisting of one man and one boy; and the sloop, wearing round, reached in for the land.
It was evident to Newton that some large vessel had lately been wrecked, for the spars were fresh in the fracture, and clean—not like those long in the water, covered with sea-weed, and encircled by a shoal of fish, who, finding sustenance from the animalculae collected, follow the floating pieces of wood up and down, as their adopted parent, wherever they may be swept by the inconstant winds and tides.
Newton examined the heels of the spars, but they were not marked with the name of the vessel to which they had belonged. The two casks had only initials branded upon the heads; but nothing could be found which would designate the owners of the property. A large trunk riveted his attention; but he would not open it until the master of the vessel came upon deck. Having ascertained by spiling that the contents of the casks were real Jamaica, he went down into the cabin to announce what he knew would be most grateful intelligence.
It was some time before Newton could rouse his stupified senior.
“Spars—wrecked!”
“What spars? Damn the wreck!” growled old Thompson (for such was his name), as he turned his back in no very ceremonious manner, and recommenced his snore.
“There’s a trunk besides, sir—a large trunk; but I did not open it, as you were not on deck. A large trunk, and rather heavy.”
“Trunk!—well, what then? Trunk!—oh, damn the trunk!—let me go to sleep,” muttered the master.
“There’s two large casks, too, sir; I’ve spiled them, and they prove to be puncheons of rum,” bawled Newton, who pertinaciously continued.
“Eh; what?—casks! what casks?”
“Two puncheons of rum.”
“Rum!—did you say rum?” cried old Thompson, lifting his head off the pillow, and staring stupidly at Newton; “where?”
“On deck. Two casks: we picked them up as we were standing off the land.”
“Picked them up?—are they on board?” inquired the master, sitting upright in his bed, and rubbing his eyes.
“Yes, they’re safe on board. Won’t you come on deck?”
“To be sure, I will. Two puncheons of rum, you said?”—and old Thompson gained his feet, and reeled to the companion ladder, holding on by all fours, as he climbed up without his shoes.
When the master of the sloop had satisfied himself as to the contents of the casks, which he did by taking about half a tumbler of each, Newton proposed that the trunk should be opened. “Yes,” replied Thompson, who had drawn off a mug of the spirits, with which he was about to descend to the cabin, “open it, if you like, my boy. You have made a bon prize to-day, and your share shall be the trunk; so you may keep it, and the things that are stowed away in it, for your trouble: but don’t forget to secure the casks till we can stow them away below. We can’t break bulk now; but the sooner they are down the better; or we shall have some quill-driving rascal on board, with his flotsam and jetsam, for the Lord knows who;” and Thompson, to use his own expression, went down again “to lay his soul in soak.”
Reader, do you know the meaning of flotsam and jetsam? None but a lawyer can, for it is old law language. Now, there is a slight difference between language in general and law language. The first was invented to enable us to explain our own meaning, and comprehend the ideas of others; whereas, the second was invented with the view that we should not be able to understand a word about it. In former times, when all law, except club law, was in its infancy, and practitioners not so erudite, or so thriving as at present, it was thought advisable to render it unintelligible by inventing a sort of lingo, compounded of bad French, grafted upon worse Latin, forming a mongrel and incomprehensible race of words, with French heads and Latin tails, which answered the purpose intended—that of mystification.—Flotsam and jetsam are of this breed. Flot, derived from the French flottant, floating; and jet, from the verb jeter, to throw up; both used in seignoral rights, granted by kings to favourites, empowering them to take possession of the property of any man who might happen to be unfortunate, which was in those times tantamount to being guilty. I dare say, if one could see the deed thus empowering them to confiscate the goods and chattels of others for their own use, according to the wording of the learned clerks in those days, it would run thus:—“Omnium quod flotsam et jetsam, et every thing else-um, quod findetes;” in plain English, “every thing floating or thrown up, and every thing else you may pick up.” Now the admiral of the coast had this piratical privilege: and as, in former days, sextants and chronometers were unknown, sea-faring men incurred more risk than they do at present, and the wrecks which strewed the coast were of very great value. I had a proof the other day that this right is still exacted; that is as far as regards property unclaimed. I had arrived at Plymouth from the Western Islands. When we hove up our anchor at St. Michael’s, we found another anchor and cable hooked most lovingly to our own, to the great joy of the first-lieutenant who proposed buying silk handkerchiefs for every man in the ship, and expending the residue in paint. But we had not been at anchor in Plymouth Sound more than twenty four hours, and he hardly had time to communicate with the gentlemen-dealers in marine stores, when I received a notification from some lynx-eyed agent of the present admiral of the coast (who is a lawyer, I believe), requesting the immediate delivery of the anchor and cable—upon the plea of his seignoral rights of flotsam and jetsam. Now the idea was as preposterous as the demand was impudent. We had picked up the anchor in the roadstead of a foreign power, about fifteen hundred miles distant from the English coast.
We are all lawyers, now, on board ship; so I gave him one of my legal answers, “that in the first place, flotsam meant floating, and anchors did not float; in the second place, that jetsam meant thrown up, and anchors never were thrown up; in the third and last place, I’d see him damned first!”
My arguments were unanswerable. Counsel for the plaintiff (I presume) threw up his brief, for we heard no more of “Mr. Flotsam and Jetsam.”
But to proceed:—The man and boy, who, with Newton, composed the whole crew, seemed perfectly to acquiesce in the distribution made by the master of the sloop; taking it for granted that their silence, as to the liquor being on board, would be purchased by a share of it, as long as it lasted.
They repaired forward with a panikin from
