When I struck the beach in Havre, the war with England had turned adrift upon that port’s dock heads a strange assortment of men. Many had served in either the American or English navy, and many more had manned French privateers and had fought under Napoleon’s eagles. The peace that had followed turned hordes of these fighting men into peaceable merchant sailors without ships, and they drifted about without definite means of support.
I had come over from the States in an old tub of a barque called the Washington, after having served as mate for two years on the schooner General Greene. The war had taught me something, for I had served in the navy in one of the South Pacific cruises, and had fought in the frigate Essex. I was 2only a boy in years, but the service--and other matters hardly worth mentioning here--had hardened my nature and developed the disagreeable side of my character. I was mate of the old hooker, and could have made out well enough if the captain hadn’t been somewhat down on me, for I never cared especially for women, and I believed my experience justified my opinion of them,--but no matter.
The old man seemed to think I couldn’t be happy without thrashing every day one or more of the miserable dagoes he had had the assurance to tell me were sailors, and, after a nasty voyage of fifty days, I was not sorry to step ashore. I joined the saturnine pier-enders with my pay and discharge as being a remarkably hard and quarrelsome mate with but small experience.
We tied up to one of the long docks, and I had seen that all the canvas was properly unbent and stowed below before being notified of my failings.
The dock-jumpers had made their leap, and we were short-handed enough, so I may have been a bit out of sorts with the extra work and the prospect of breaking out the cargo with only four Portuguese and a third mate, who was the captain’s son.
It wasn’t the work I dodged, however, nor was it that which caused the outfly. It was started by this third mate coming aboard with a very pretty 3girl whom he had met in town. To see him walking about the main deck with her, when he should have been hard at work, aggravated me. They said he was to marry her, and the dagoes kept looking after him instead of doing what I told them, and then--well, after it was over I didn’t care very much.
The only man aboard who seemed interested to any extent was old Richards, the second mate. Richards had served on the frigate Essex in her famous cruise, and after the war he had chosen to try his hand in merchant ships, for the change of the man-o’-war’s man’s life from action to slothful peace had been too much for him. Silent and thoughtful, he had listened to me and was pained at my speech. He was called old Richards because of his quiet manner, although he was not much over thirty-five, and I bore with his sour looks while I went to the quarter-deck to finish my little say with the skipper.
As an American man-o’-war’s man, it was my duty to invite the captain ashore to prove to him by the force of my hands that I was the best natured young fellow afloat. As I was a powerful lad, and had served two years under him, he had the good judgment to explain to me that my argument would prove most illogical, and that if I dared to lift a hand against him, he would blow a hole 4through me as big as a hawse-pipe. To lend emphasis to his statement, he produced a huge horse-pistol, and, sticking it under my nose so that I might look carefully down the bore and see what he had loaded it with, he bade me get hence.
I was not very much afraid of the weapon, so I gazed carefully into it, while I pronounced some flattering comments about his birth and the nationality of his mother. Then, lest I might really appear quarrelsome to the few knaves who were enjoying the spectacle, I spat into the muzzle as though it were the receptacle for that purpose, and, turning my back upon him, sauntered ashore, followed by my second mate, whom I thought came to expostulate with me and bring me to a better humour, and return.
I was in a somewhat grim humour, but not by any means quarrelsome. I had lost my ship, but I had a bit of American gold, and as long as a sailor has this commodity he is cheerful enough. I had no sooner landed on the pier than I was accosted by a little ferret-faced fellow, who seemed busy nosing around the dock after the manner of a nervous little dog that noses everything rapidly and seriously, as though its life depends upon its finding something it is not looking for.
“Bon jaw,” he said.
I turned upon him and looked into his ugly face.
5“I’m a Yankee sailor,” said I, “and if you want any business with me you’ll have to speak something I understand. And besides,” I added, edging closer to him, “I don’t allow fellows to talk about me in a foreign language,--unless I’ve got a good reason to think they’re saying something truthful. You savvey? Or I’ll make a handsome monkey of you by changing that figurehead you’ve got there.”
A sudden scowl came over the fellow’s face and went again. “I kin give you all the langwidge you need, young man, but I was only about to do you a favour.”
“‘Virtue is its own reward,’” I said, reaching into my pocket as though for a piece of money. “Cast loose!”
“It’s on account of that reward I reckon you don’t practise it,” grinned the fellow. “Perhaps a more substantial acknowledgment might--”
“Shut up!” I snapped. “If you are an American or English, let’s have your lay.
“Is it a ship you want me to take? For, if that’s your game, you better slant away. Don’t you see I’ve enough ship for the rest of my life, hey?”
The creature sidled closer to me and attempted to slip his arm through mine, but I brushed him away. He flashed that fox-like scowl at me again, 6his little yellow eyes growing into two points. He gave me an unpleasant feeling, and I watched his hands to see if he made any movement. Then I was more astonished, as I noticed his fingers. They were enormous.
“Look a-here now, don’t you think we cud do a bit a bizness without all these here swabs a-looking on? You look like you had sense enough to go below when it rains right hard. What! you follow me? Now there’s a ship without a navigator a-fitting out not far from here, and, if you’ll come go along with me, an’ talk the matter over, there’ll be no harm done except to the spirruts,--an’ they’s free.”
I was very thirsty and could talk no French, so, more to be guided to a place to quench my thirst on good ale than by curiosity, I allowed him to lead me up the dock. I noticed several of the loungers upon the pier-head scowl at me as I went my way, and one tall, fierce-looking fellow, who had been glancing at me frequently, gradually fell away from the group of loafers and strolled up behind us. I paid no further attention to these fellows, but, as I reached the street with its babble of unfamiliar language, a sudden feeling came upon me. I don’t know what it was, but I was only a boy, and the future seemed dark and lonely. I turned and looked back at the Washington. She 7was the only thing American in sight, and the months I spent aboard her were not to be thrust aside lightly. They had all been too full of work and sorrow.
“Good-bye, old barkey,” I cried, holding my right hand high up,--“good-bye, and may the eternal God--no, bless you.”
I hastened on to where the ferret-faced fellow stood grinning at me. He was peculiarly aggressive, and his shabby unnautical rig only added to this disagreeable characteristic. Richards followed slowly behind, his eyes holding a peculiar look as he joined the little stranger. The man gave a sneer.
“Very sentimental and proper feeling,” said he. “A ship’s like a person, more or less, an’ when one gets used to her he don’t like to give her up.”
“What do you know about sentiment, you swine?” I asked, fiercely. “I’ve a good notion to whang you for your insolence.”
“A very fine spirit,” he commented, as though to himself, as he walked ahead, “a very fine spirit indeed, but guided by a fool. Here’s the ale-
I might as well say in the beginning that, while I have a sailor’s taste for liquor, I’m not especially noted as a drunkard or spirit-wholloper. By the latter I mean given to ruffianism or brawling while under its influence. It is because of a naturally refined and peaceful disposition that I am so constituted, and I take no glory on that account. It is nonsense to suppose all sailors ruffians and all tales of the sea coarse, because some swabs have found that the hand of a knowing mate or skipper lies heavy upon an empty pate. The story of many voyages on American ships is gentle and uneventful as the daily run of a lady’s carriage. For evidence, read their logs. We entered the den of our little ferret-faced companion, and had no sooner sat at a table to order the ale than I was aware of the tall, dour man who had followed us from the pier-head. My second mate was too much taken up with the inmates of the place to notice anything 9else. I might as well confess Richards was a very pious fellow, and it must have been much against his wish to have been where he was. The tall man paid little attention to him, but looked at me.
He did not come into the room, but stood in the doorway, his fierce eyes fixed upon my face, and his long, drooping moustache hanging below his jowls, giving him a most sinister appearance. Our companion appeared not to perceive his presence at first, and only when he tilted his mug and threw his head back did his weasel eyes seem to fall in with those of the stranger.
“Come in, you terrier!” I cried. “Come in and have a mug to soak your whiskers in. Sink me, but barbers must be scarce around here. Soldier o’ the guard, hey? No one but a Voltigeer-r-r o’ the guard-r-rd would wear such hangers.”
“Young man,” said the stranger, quietly, “your language is rather unseemly, and should not be applied to one of the cloth. Hark ye! I am a man of peace, sir. I am Richard Raymond, chaplain of the Guerrière frigate. I never indulge.” He raised a lean, sinewy hand and shook his head gently at the proffered ale.
“May the devil seize me if you ain’t the holy joe I’m looking for!” I cried. “Sit down, man, sit down.”
“Not in such a place. I but came to plead with 10you not to fill yourself with that liquid. It is ruinous.” Here he looked across the room where the proprietor was attending to a group of sailors who were about a table. “It is ruinous, I say, and here I implore you not to drink too much. As a man of God, I ask you, and the chaplain of the Guerrière,” and he raised his eyes aloft and clasped his hands as if in prayer. I now noticed his clothes were somewhat clerical in cut, though shabby. At this moment, a buxom maid brought some fresh mugs, foaming full, and I tossed her a piece of money. She looked at me and smiled, saying something I failed to understand. Then casting a look at the tall man in the door, she laughed and went her way.
“And why not on the frigate now?” I asked Mr. Raymond, who still seemed to be absorbed in prayer.
“Lost, man, lost!” said my little companion, taking a fresh mug. “Don’t you know she was lost?”
“Well,” I cried, “what difference? Should a holy man desert his ship any the sooner for being holy, hey? Answer me that. Why didn’t you get lost in her? Sink me, but I like a man who will do something more than talk for the good of a soul. I like a bit o’ sacrifice now and again to show the meaning true. I’d like to see our friend drink 11this mug of ale to save me from the devil, for, if he’ll drink it, I vow I’ll not buy another for myself.”
“Deliver us from evil,” moaned Raymond. “Oh, Henry, I couldn’t do it,” and his eyes rolled up.
“So your name is Henry, is it?” I asked my little companion.
He looked queerly at me.
“Why didn’t you say so before?” I asked, roughly.
“You never asked me,” said he. “The chaplain has known me many years.”
“Well,” I cried, rising and advancing upon Mr. Raymond, “you’ll either drink this ale or get it in the face, for I’ll not be badgered by every hairy heaven-yelper I run against. Drink!” and I held the mug toward him.
His fierce eyes gleamed curiously, and he reached for the tankard. Then he raised it to his lips, and the long moustache was buried half a foot in the foam. When he let it down it was empty. The next instant something crashed against my head, and I saw many stars. Then came a blank. It must have been some minutes before I came to, and, when I did, I found myself lying upon the floor with my Mr. Henry and the barmaid wiping the blood from my face. The tall man had disappeared, and I struggled to my feet, my head whirling. Upon the floor lay pieces of the mug.
12“Did that sky-pilot do it?” I asked, feebly.
Henry grinned.
“Ah, ah, pauvre gar?on, pauvre, pauvre--what eet is, boy? Pauvre boy. C’est poar boy, poar boy,” said the stout girl, wiping my clothes gently and laying a hand on my shoulder.
The effect of a little sympathy was strange, especially from a woman.
“Never mind,” I said, taking her hand from my shoulder and holding it a moment. “Get some fresh ale. There is no damage done. If that fellow was a man of peace, I should not like to come across his breed as man of war. Sit down, you son of a fox,” I continued to Henry, “and let’s have your yarn, and if I see you so much as grin, this shop will be unlucky.” We drew up again to the table.
“I should think,” said Richards, “you have had your say long enough now, and would listen to reason. Steady yourself and get back into some ship before you get in jail. I don’t care any more for the hooker you just left than you do, and wouldn’t go back in her if there was any other vessel wanting hands.”
“I feel flattered at your attentions, my dear Peter,” said I. “It is good of you to follow me to take care of one so young. My morals are pretty bad, and I need a nurse.”
13“That is certain,” said the sailor, with conviction that angered me not a little.
Richards’s manner was a bit trying to me at all times when I wanted to have a say, and this time I lost patience. Yet, when I thought of it afterward, I saw a steady head would have kept me out of much trouble. He was a perfectly balanced man. He would neither lose his head with joy, nor sink with despair at some seeming desperate trouble. He had learned this by experience, and his steady eyes were not those of a dullard. He felt as much as any one, as I soon learned when I gave him the sharp edge of my tongue. He was not a large man, but rather small and wiry. His size, I often thought, had governed his actions, for aboard ship a small man cannot talk too loud. Since he had served with me, I had reason to believe his body had little to do with his mind.
“Peter,” I said, acidly, “I’m looking for a ship. Will you go along in her with me?”
“That I will,” he said, but I thought he was simply falling into my trap to gain time.
“Then, my weasel,” said I, turning to Mr. Henry, “you have two bully boys at your tow-line, for, sink me, I’ll hold my mate to his word if I ship in nothing better than a West Indian sugar-boat. Sail in, my bully. Let’s have the old tune I’ve heard so often.”
14Henry drew up his chair and gloated over us. We were two good enough men to tempt any sort of crimp, but, on account of my size, he addressed himself to me as the leader. I have always had this happen when there were others around, but I take no especial note of it, for it was nothing that I was a well-put-up man. I had nothing whatever to do with my birth.
“You see,” said he, “I don’t make any bones wot I’m up to. I’m after men sech as you an’ me. My father were a Yankee sailor, though my mother were sech as I have to break the commandment wot arguefies for a long life every time I think of her.”
“You can honour her memory by keeping her name off your tongue,” I growled.
“Perhaps so,” he assented; “maybe, but she were hung right here in this town, and her property taken, so that’s why I’m lookin’ out fer men wot’s men. I get ten shillings a head per sailormen, an’ I stands in with the crowd. No shanghai business with me. It don’t pay. Why should a man ruin his business just to shanghai one or two men who will turn against him as soon as they come back, hey? A matter o’ a pound or two an’ a good name fer fair dealin’ gone. Oh, no! I don’t run fer bad ships. I only takes the clippers, an’ I give handsome.”
“What’s the hooker’s name?” I asked.
15“That’s just what I’m coming to if you’ll only say the word to go in her. They want a mate, and they’ll pay a big whack for a good man.”
“Name, you wolf,” I repeated, draining my mug. “Give the name, or pay for this ale and clear.”
“I’ll take you to her--”
He was interrupted by the entrance of a small man who strode quickly into the room and sat at once in an empty chair near the door. As the newcomer entered, Henry half-rose and saluted, receiving a slight nod of recognition in return.
“Who’s your friend?” I asked, gruffly.
“Sh-h! not so loud,” and he scowled at me. “That’s Captain Howard.”
“Who the saints is Captain Howard? Can he drink ale?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t ask him if I were you. He’s not a man of peace,” and he looked at me slantwise.
“I see,” I answered, and I looked the stranger over carefully. He was quite small in stature and his face was pale. His hands were soft, white, and effeminate-looking. Upon one finger a huge diamond sparkled. Just then he turned his gaze to meet mine, and I must admit his eyes gave me quite a turn. They were as glassy and expressionless as those of a fish. His whole smooth face, in fact, seemed to express nothing but vacancy. I had never seen a human face so devoid of expression. There 16was hardly a line in it save about the drooping corners of his mouth.
“He don’t look dangerous,” I said, with a chuckle. “However, I’m not hunting trouble, and, if you think he’ll be offended at my acquaintance, he can go without it.”
“He’s related to the great English house,--them--them ar’stocrats, ye know. That’s the way he’s got the king’s pardon.”
“Pardon for what?” I asked.
He glanced sidewise at me with that ferret look upon his face. “You’ve heard, sure? No? Well, then, that’s the skipper that held up the Indian Prince.”
Then I remembered well enough. He was the little fellow with the pirate crew that had held up the big East-Indianman in the China Sea some years back. It was he who took the treasure and squandered it in mad riot in the streets of Singapore, and defied the authorities. Here, indeed, was the man feared by both whites and savages of the Eastern seas, sitting in this little ale-house as unconcerned as though nothing unusual had happened to excite curiosity. I was so taken up looking at him and wondering at his foul crimes that he had received and drunk off his liquor before I realized what had happened. As he left, I seized my mug and drank it.
17“Come along,” I said. “Show me your ship,” and Mr. Henry paid the score and started for the door, while I followed. As I reached it, I turned to see what Richards would do, but he was game.
“Here comes your nourse, sonny,” he said. “I was paid off yesterday, and don’t mind a change if it’s for better,” and he looked so serious that I burst out laughing.
Henry led the way through the streets until we came to the anchorage basin beyond the docks. He was talkative enough, but my head ached from the blow I had received from the man of peace, and I paid little attention to the fellow’s words.
We passed a large American ship that had been captured by the English during the war and sold. She loomed up grandly from the small craft lying near, her long, tapering masts still showing the unmistakable Yankee rigging, and her yards having yet a vestige of the white American cloth which has since been a pleasant feature of all our craft. Her paint was worn off, however, and upon her decks a mongrel crew chattered away like a pack of monkeys. I halted a moment and looked at her in disgust.
“What ship is that?” I asked.
“The Independence of Boston. She were taken by the English line ship St. Marys off Cape St. Roque. She were stove up some. See that big piece spliced into her stern where she was shot 19away. Her mainyard’s fished in two places. Took two whole broadsides to fetch her to, they say. That trim-lookin’ craft beyond her is the one we’re headin’ fer,--the one laying head on with the foreyards cockbilled.”
We went toward the vessel indicated, and I soon saw what indeed appeared to be a fine craft. She was large, probably five hundred tons, but she was barque rigged, with her mainmast stepped well aft. Her foreyards were lifted to starboard and her main were braced to all angles, giving her the appearance of having been suddenly deserted by her crew after making port. Upon the spars the white canvas lay bent and furled, the clews standing out a foot or two clear of the bunt, and the gaskets hove in taut as brass bands. Her black sides showed a good freeboard, but I thought little of this, as nearly all vessels bound to the westward were going pretty light at that time. She was coppered, and the top band was a good half-fathom clear of the water. She was pierced for six guns on a side, and had several more ports painted along the bulwarks on the main-deck, as was the custom of the day. At a distance she might have been taken for a vessel of twenty or more guns. Her build was English, but her rig was Scandinavian, and I noticed her poop was painted white everywhere except on deck, after the Yankee fashion.
20Three heavy boats were slung amidships on booms. Forward of these a galley was built or lashed upon the deck, and from its window appeared the black head of an African. We went close to the water’s edge and Henry hailed.
“Th-war-bull-yah! Ahoy!” he bellowed.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Ha-Yah-Wah, ahoy!” he bellowed again in answer, and the nigger in the galley waved a white rag in reply.
“May the sharks eat me, you dock wrastler, but that’s a queer name for a fine ship! How do you call her?” I asked.
“He’s comin’ now,” said Henry, with a grin. “Names is mostly just sounds, an’ furrin sounds is just like others, only different. We’ll go aboard her, and you can see the old man an’ settle with him. Don’t be afraid o’ high pay. He’ll give it.”
In a few minutes a boat left the barque from the side opposite us, where it had been out of sight. It rounded under her stern and came toward us, with the nigger standing aft sculling with the peculiar swing of the Bahama conch. He landed almost at our feet, and Henry motioned me to jump aboard.
“Ole man aboard, hey?” asked Henry, stepping in after me.
“Yassir, disha boat just done taken him abo’d. He’s done expected mos’ all han’s afo’ dis.”
21“Well, take us over,” said Henry, and he settled himself heavily upon a thwart.
In a short time we were alongside. We clambered up a long hanging ladder amidships, and then over the rail to the main-deck.
As we did so a venerable, white-haired old fellow stepped out of the cabin door and greeted us.
Henry took off his cap and bowed with uncommon civility.
“Captain Watkins, allow me to make known Mr.--Mr.--”
“Heywood,” I suggested.
“Mr. Heywood,” continued Henry. “He is the best mate in Havre, an’ is just off the American ship Washington. I knowed you wanted a good mate, so I brought you the best in town.”
The old fellow held out his hand gravely, and said how glad he was to make my acquaintance.
“I am just looking for a good navigator, and if you’ll come at my terms, I’ll reckon we’ll deal.”
I suggested that the terms be made known.
“Well, I reckon on thirty pound a month is all I allow just now. Will you consider that?”
As this was five times as much as any mate I had ever heard of received, I told him I would consider the matter closed.
“An’ your friend, here. I take it he is an American, too,--an’ a sailorman from clew to earring.”
22Richards looked at him steadily.
“You are a right smart of a guesser, Mr. Watkins,” said he. “I was second in the Washington, but I’ve been in better ships.”
The insolence of old Peter calling the captain mister was almost too much for me. Here was a chance of a lifetime. I turned upon him.
“If you are going to act foolish with one drink of ale, just for a chance to back down, you better get ashore,” I snapped.
“I’ve seen many men more sensible drunk than you are sober, Heywood,” said he, looking calmly at me, “but I’ll not back down.”
“Will you accept the same terms?” asked the old man, kindly.
Richards looked at him in scorn. Then he spat on the white deck.
“I’ll go,” said he, and Captain Watkins turned to me.
“There is no grog served aboard, and no swearing on this ship, Mr. Heywood,” said he. “I am an old man, as you see, and wish my crew orderly and quiet. Do you wish to stay aboard at once?”
I said I would just as soon turn to at once. The rate of pay fairly frightened me, and I was afraid if I went ashore he might get some one else in my place. The appearance of the barque was much in her favour. Her decks were as white as holystone 23could make them, and her gear was all new and carefully selected. Such lines seldom found place upon any ships save men-of-war, and her blocks, with polished brass pins and sheaves, were marvels to me. I stood idly pulling a topsail brace with one hand and looking up at the fine rigging, while Henry talked of his tip for bringing me. Even the sheer-poles were polished brass. The old fellow finally led us below, and handed Henry a small gold piece, and then offered me a few pounds in advance, requesting me to sign a receipt for the same. This I did, and then Henry left, shaking me heartily by the hand as he went over the side. I returned his grip, for I felt he had indeed been my friend.
“You may take the port room there, Mr. Heywood, and put your things shipshape as soon as Henry gets them off your vessel. If the second or third mate comes aft to see me, don’t fail to call me,--er--er, you know I’m quite without officers, sir, but will probably have both them and a crew aboard soon. The papers have not been made out yet, but I believe I have your receipt for your advance. Witnessed by Henry, it will do, I suppose, but I am not afraid of you, Mr. Heywood. You don’t look like a man to take advantage of a ship’s generosity.” Then he went aft, and I went to the 24port room. It meant that I was first mate, and I opened the door with a high heart.
There was nothing at all in the stateroom save an old clay pipe and a twist of tobacco. The bunk was bare, and I sat upon the edge of it speculating upon my good fortune. Finally I lit the pipe and smoked. The smoke wreaths rolled upward, and, as I watched them, I built many pleasant things in the future.
How long I dreamed I don’t know, but it was quite late in the afternoon when I heard a hail from the shore that sounded like Henry’s. I went on deck and met the nigger coming from the galley to the boat. I noticed what a strapping buck the fellow was, and he saw me watching him.
“Disha hooker’ll have er crew soon. Yassir, she will dat,” said he, grinning and showing a row of teeth almost as pointed and white as those of a shark. Then he climbed over the rail, and was soon sculling to the shore, where I saw Henry and two men waiting.
They came aboard and were ushered into the cabin by the venerable skipper, whom I had awakened.
“This is Mr. Martin,” said Henry, introducing the first one with the air of a man presenting a lord. The fellow pulled off his hat and squared his shoulders, and then looked somewhat disturbed by this 25mark of respect. He was clean shaven, with a great broad head set upon an enormous pair of shoulders. He was short but powerfully built, and his bright eyes were restless. He was no drunken ship-rat, but a strong, healthy sailor.
“Mr. Martin, it gives me pleasure to meet you, sir. As I understand you wish to sign as second mate, I present you to Mr. Heywood, the first officer,” and he nodded to me with a graceful sweep of the hand. He had evidently forgotten Richards, but I did not feel inclined to remind him at that moment.
The fellow looked at me and scowled, at the same time nodding. This sort of thing was more than he had expected. Then he broke forth in broad Scotch that he would sign or go ashore.
“Would twenty pound a month do you?” asked the skipper, wistfully.
The fellow did not understand. The amount probably dazed him. Captain Watkins repeated the offer.
“Weel an’ guid! weel an’ guid!” he cried, slapping his stout leg. “Let’s have a squint o’ th’ goold.”
“I shall be glad to hand you a few pounds at once in advance,” said the old skipper. “Please sign this receipt for four pounds,” and so saying, he produced the money.
26The fellow put it in his clothes and signed the paper at once.
His companion stepped up. He was a Swede and blond. His blue eyes were bleary with liquor, and the old man looked at him and shook his head sadly.
“No drinkin’ and no swearin’ aboard here, my friend--er--er--”
“Anderson,” said Henry.
“No drinking here, Mr. Anderson. If you’ll accept fifteen pounds a month and three pounds in advance, just scratch off a receipt and we’ll finish up and have dinner.”
This was done and the two men saw Henry over the side, giving him, as I had done, a good tip for his kind interest in getting them such fine berths. Then the big nigger cleared the table and brought in a very substantial meal, at which the captain and we mates fell to.
I was not a little astonished at the appearance of Richards. He was all cleaned up and wore a scarf tied under his newly shaved chin. He was always neat in appearance, but here he was, without anything apparently to tog out with, all rigged as fine as though he were going ashore. His smooth face, sunburned and lined as it was from exposure, seemed to tell of much hardship in the past. He was a solemn-looking fellow at best, and to see him togged out in this shape, with his hands washed and old 27clothes brushed, was strange. He took his place at the table without a word.
“You see,” said Captain Watkins, looking at me with his sharp eyes, “I believe in the equality of all men.”
I nodded, for it was not often the mates and sailors of a ship had a chance to eat in the forward cabin of a vessel, especially together. The Scotchman, Martin, eyed the old fellow narrowly. We could not all be mates.
“One man’s as good as another, and sometimes even better,” said Richards, softly.
“That’s it. Even a black man is as good as a white one. Some people don’t think so, but I know it’s so,” said the skipper.
“I’ve seen some I thought better,” said Richards, helping himself to a piece of boiled meat, “but it don’t keep people from jerking them up for slaves when they get a chance.”
“I have known slavers,” said the old man, gently, “but they are a rough set and capable of any crime. On our last voyage one of those fellows wanted to visit me during a calm, but I was afraid of him and warned him away. A desperate-looking set they were.”
“Must have frightened you badly,” sneered Richards.
The old skipper looked at the sailor. There was 28something like sadness in his voice as he answered.
“I’m of a somewhat timid nature, but cannot help it. I cannot stand seeing poor coloured folk made to suffer. You will know me better after you have sailed with me for a voyage.”
I thought I saw just the glimmer of a smile around the corners of his mouth as he said this, and looked for some reply from my talkative mate. Richards made no further remark, and the conversation turned to more sailor-like topics.
We talked rather late, as the skipper was most fatherly in his manner, and, when the fellow Martin suggested he would go ashore and get his dunnage, it was found that Henry had taken the boat without the nigger, and had not sent it back aboard.
“It is of no great consequence, I hope,” said Watkins. “You two, Mr. Heywood and Richards, may turn in the port room; you, Mr. Martin and Mr. Anderson, to starboard, and perhaps in the morning I can let you have the day ashore.”
Then we separated. Richards and I tossed a coin to see who would get the bunk, and I won. I arranged my coat for a pillow and soon fell asleep, leaving my roommate to shift for himself on the deck.
Once or twice during the night I thought I heard stealthy footsteps overhead, and once it seemed to 29me that the barque was heeling over a bit. Finally I was awakened by a loud banging at my door, and, springing up, found it was broad day. Then it suddenly dawned upon me that the barque was under way.
Opening the door, I found a strange fellow scowling at me. He was dressed as a common sailor and was a bit drunk.
It is just as well to start discipline right aboard a ship, thought I, so I hitched my trousers’ belt the tighter before sailing in to show how an American mate whangs the deviltry and liquor out of a foreign skin when aroused from pleasant dreams. I noticed the absence of Richards, but thought he had already turned out for duty. Then I accosted the fellow and asked softly what he wanted.
“What cher doin’ in my room, yer bloomin’ swine?” he howled. “Git out an’--”
I had stopped him with a right swing on the jaw, and the next instant we were loping about that cabin in fine style. In a moment there was a rush of feet, and something crashed on my head. Then followed stars and darkness.
When I came again into this world, I found myself lying in a dark, dirty hole of a forecastle. There was not a man there, but, as I looked over the empty berths, I saw plenty of clothes and bedding, which gave evidence of a full crew.
Getting to my feet, I found my head sorely cut and bruised, and wondered what had happened. A throbbing pain across the eyes did little to aid my thoughts, and, while I stood holding to the ladder down which I had been flung, the scuttle above me was thrust back and the fellow Martin started down.
“Aha!” he said when he saw me, “’twas a guid wan ye got ain yer haid. A clout will do ye na harm, ye thievin’ trixter, ye deceivin’ rascal. Now I’ll give you one for ald lang syne, an’ teach ye better to deceive a honest mon ag’in.”
While talking, he turned back the sleeves of his jumper and made ready to carry out his threat. He saw I made no movement, however, and hesitated.
31“Defend yairself, mon, defend yairself. Do not let me whollop yer like a babe,” and he advanced toward me with his hands before him in some very fair style.
“See here,” I said, “what the mischief has happened? What are you driving at? I’ve played no trick, but it looks like some one has played a trick on me.”
“Ah, na backslidin’, ye corward, na backslidin’! Yer can’t fool a canny sailormaun that way. Put yer hands before yer ugly face, or I’ll whollop ye like er babe.”
“I’m not afraid of your wholloping, Scotty. Let me get a turn about my head a bit, and pull this ragged shirt off. Wonderful clean fo’castle this. No drunks, no filthy dunnage overhauled, no--what infernal ship is this, anyway?”
He saw I was not joking. Indeed, my appearance, as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, put joking aside, and my last remark about the vessel was true.
He dropped his hands and stared at me.
“Ware ye sure rung in like the rest? Waren’t ye in the game?” Then he burst into a hoarse laugh and held out his hand. At that minute the tramp of feet sounded overhead, and a half-score of men came clattering down the companion-ladder.
It was a mixed crew,--Norwegians, Swedes, dagoes, 32and Dutchmen,--but all with the unmistakable swing of the deep-water sailor. They stared at me, and then started a gabble of language that in my disturbed condition I failed to understand. They crowded around me and asked questions, and I noticed Anderson eyeing me suspiciously. Then Martin, with a sweep of his hand, cut them off, and began telling how I came aboard. When he was through with his flowery description of Henry, I noticed several men shake their clenched hands aft.
“Well,” said I, “I’m the mate, and I guess I’ll go aft and find out who rapped me over the head. Some fellows in the other watch, I suppose.”
They burst into derisive laughter.
“We’re all mates and captains here,” sung out a big Norwegian addressed as Bill. “You better turn in while you may, friend Heywood. You’re in Henry’s watch, an’ the captain ain’t turned out yet.”
“Who’s the old man?” I asked, bewildered, and thinking I must still be daffy from the crack on the head.
“Ain’t seen him yet,” said several at once.
“Well, what infernal hooker am I in, anyway?” I asked Martin.
“They call her The Gentle Hand, but there ain’t na name painted on her. Some says she’s the Fly-by-Night, 33Howard’s old pirate barque, but that canna weel be. She’s light. Not a hundred ton below decks, an’ that’s mostly stores.”
“The Fly-by-Night was a cruising brig before the first war with England,” I said. “It can’t possibly be that old hooker. Besides, she was used against the French by your General Braddock.”
“Well, when you find out just what we’ve gotten into, coom an’ tell us,” said Martin.
It had been slowly dawning upon me that I had been the victim of a trick, and I felt in my pocket for the advance I had received the day before. The barque was under way, that was certain, but no one seemed to know where she was bound, and, as I fumbled through my clothes, Martin laughed.
“’Twas guid money, Heywood, but ’tis gone. I missed mine this morning. Maybe Anderson can tell where it is,” and he grinned.
The money was gone. That was certain. Yet it was no dream. I had received it fair enough. Feeling anger and hatred for the trick upon me, I bound up my head and went up the ladder to the deck to have a look around. Several men called out to me to have a care of the mate, but most of them were busy arranging their belongings, quarrelling and fighting among themselves over the possession of what clothes happened to be common to the crowd. I saw Martin steal a pair of tarpaulin trousers from 34a fellow who was wrestling with the sailor Bill for the possession of a bag of straw bedding. Then I stepped on deck.
The cool air did me good. I went to the rail and looked over. The barque was going steadily to the southward with every rag set. She was heeling but gently, and there was little wind or sea. She was braced a bit to starboard, her port tack aboard, and by her trimming I saw she was under English officers. Every yard just in line with its fellow, from the big main to the little royal that crossed a good hundred and seventy feet above the sea. Far away to the eastward showed the even outline of the French coast, and between us many sails strung along the band of blue, their hulls either just below or rising above the horizon’s line. The day was fine and the easterly breeze gentle, and the barque was swinging easily along.
I looked aft and saw men of the mate’s watch at work setting up the backstays in the main-rigging, and some on the mizzen topsail-yard, apparently under the direction of Richards, serving a worn foot-rope. The canvas covers were off the guns, and a dozen bright twelve-pounders of polished brass shone in the sunlight. The white deck beneath and the varnished spars above made a pretty picture, and I grew warm to think that I was not indeed the mate of such a craft. They had played 35a fine trick on me to get me aboard sober and without compulsion, signing a receipt for an advance equal to a couple of months’ ordinary wages. There were plenty of sailors about the pier-heads, for the war had turned many adrift without means of getting a ship, and there seemed to be no reason why these fellows should try their land-shark game in getting a crew.
As I looked aft it dawned upon me that these men were much better than the ordinary run of common sailors. There was something in the fellow’s walk I now saw crossing the deck that spoke of the war-ship. Even the watch I had just seen below were remarkably rough and tough specimens of a rugged humanity.
While I stood there taking in the scene, I saw a man come from aft and walk to the break of the poop. He looked over the barque carefully, and as his gaze came down the fore-rigging it stopped upon me.
He was dressed something after the manner of a preacher, with black cloth coat and stock, and his hair was cut short. As I took his figure in, there was little difficulty in recognizing Richard Raymond, the man of peace. He beckoned me to come aft, and, as I did so, he removed the huge drooping moustache he had been wearing and tossed it over the side.
36“I reckon you know me now, Heywood,” said he, “though it’s been over six years since we parted. I wanted you on this voyage, and took some pains to get ye. That was the old man who welted ye over the head. I’m sorry for it.”
It was Hawkson, sure enough. I recognized him easily now in spite of his gray hair and older look. How I failed to recognize him at first even in his disguise puzzled me. We had made the cruise in the Petrel together, and had served on the man-of-war.
“Well, you’ve got me fast enough, though you played a mean trick getting me. Now what’s the game?” said I.
The old privateersman smiled, and his jaws worked as though muttering to himself. His face creased into ugly lines about his large mouth, and he showed his teeth.
“I’m first officer here. That fellow Gull you fouled this morning is second. Remember this first and the rest’ll come easy. Henry is third mate, and I hear them say that you’re to be made gunner. How’s that?”
“Who’s them?” I asked, somewhat nettled.
“Them’s us, sonny. The old man, the two gentlemen aft, myself, and the rest.”
“Where are we bound for, and what’s the hooker’s 37name? It’s all well enough to be cribbed aboard a ship, but I’m going to find out what’s the game.”
“We’re bound for the South Pacific; that’s all clear as mud, an’ we’ve got a picked crew because the business in hand needs honest men.”
“I bow to myself,” I answered. “It’s well to know.”
“What more do you want, hey? Go forrads an’ turn in, an’ I’ll square ye with the fellow Gull. Don’t let them see me talkin’ too much with ye, sonny, or I’ll have to forget the past for the needs o’ the present. You’re aboard a fine ship.”
“Well,” I answered, “that’s all good enough, but I would like to know her name and who’s her skipper,--and what’s more, I’m going to find out right away.”
Hawkson’s eyes glinted with that light I knew so well meant danger, and his ugly mouth worked nervously.
“Perhaps you’d care to go aft and interview the captain about it,” said he, with his drawl. “He’s a gentleman every inch, and will be a revelation to ye after them packets you’ve sailed in. Suppose you lay aft and make out your own case. You were always an obstinate youngster, but I reckon since you’ve been mate your head’s swelled worse’n ever.”
I knew Hawkson to be one of the most dangerous 38men afloat when aroused, but about this time I was not exactly a lambkin myself. A man does not become mate of a western ocean packet with anything lamblike in his make-up, unless it is by accident for one voyage. I was not quarrelsome, but resented with righteous indignation the manner in which I had been kidnapped in broad daylight without even being under the influence of liquor. The simplicity of the whole affair maddened me, and not even the fellowship of Martin and Anderson or others in the list of victims detracted one jot from the implied lack of ordinary precautions and common sense. I started up the weather side of the poop to go aft, and I noticed several fellows to leeward looking at me.
“Go to lor’ard,” growled Hawkson, fiercely.
But I paid no attention, and was half-way up the steps when a man came up the after companion and walked toward me. As he reached the deck and turned before I had gotten up, I stopped short, looking at him. It was Captain Howard, the pirate.
I will admit my zeal abated a trifle when I met the captain’s gaze, but I was not much afraid of any man, so up the ladder I went and toward him.
He saw me approaching and stopped. Then he demanded in a high voice from Hawkson what I wanted and why I was allowed up the weather side of the quarter-deck.
“He’s a bit daffy, sir,” said Hawkson, touching his cap. “That crack on the pate you gave him has turned his burgoo case. He’ll be all right soon, sir.”
“Daffy or not,” said I, “I want to know what ship I’m in and where she’s bound,--and I’m going to find out.”
The ugly face of Captain Howard was inscrutable. His glassy eyes like those of some reptile were fixed upon me. His thin, hooked nose appeared like the beak of an albatross. He took off his hat and bowed to me politely, saying:
“It will give me great pleasure to listen to you, sir.” I noticed his poll was as smooth and hairless 40as the sole of my foot, only a red seam that stretched from the crown to his left ear wrinkled its bronzed roundness.
“Well,” I said, more mildly, “I would like to find out what ship I’m in and where she’s going.”
“Were you drunk, sir, when you came aboard her?” he asked, calmly.
“I was not,” I answered, warmly.
“Were you blind?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, then, you have permission to look about you, and, if you’re the sailor you claim to be, you will perceive this is a barque. She is called the Gentle Hand. She is bound for the South Atlantic.”
“But I shipped as mate of her,” I stammered.
“That is manifestly impossible. Mr. Hawkson has been mate of her for some time. That was probably a little joke of Watkins, the steward.” Here he threw up his head and burst into a rattling laugh, his mouth slightly open, but his face otherwise unmoved.
“He, he, he!” he rattled, “you’ll be a mate fast enough,--a gunner’s mate. And, if that don’t suit you, Mr. Hawkson will introduce you to the gunner’s daughter. Go forward now and remember that if you come on the weather side of the quarter-deck while I’m here, I’ll write my name on you with a hot iron. Do you see? Ho, ho, ho! 41That Watkins is a tricky knave and you have my permission to manhandle him. There he is now. Breakfast--”
As he spoke, the venerable old scoundrel emerged from the door of the forward cabin, and, standing upon the poop step, announced that the morning meal was ready. There was little left for me but to get forward. The “gunner’s daughter” on that ship I knew was the sinister name applied to the breech of one of the guns, and an introduction consisted of being held over it with a naked back, while a sailor cut the victim to ribbons with a cat-o’-nine-tails.
As the old rascal Watkins stood there announcing breakfast, he recognized me and grinned.
“It isn’t well to laugh early in the morning,” I said, as I went past him. The captain went below, and I stopped on the last step of the poop-ladder. “For sometimes it’s rude.” Here I caught him a cuff with the flat of my hand that sounded all over the deck, knocking him a couple of fathoms toward the main-hatch. A man to leeward laughed outright, and even Hawkson chuckled.
The old fellow recovered himself, and his grin was conspicuously absent as he came toward me in a menacing manner.
“Now you trot along, Noah,” said I. “I’ll give 42you one like that every little while until I find that advance money back in my pocket.”
He stopped in front of me, and his mouth worked nervously. His eyes seemed to disappear under his shaggy brows, and his beard fairly bristled with rage.
I was a stout man among stout men, and he saw there was little use speaking out loud. Then he turned and went into the cabin, where Captain Howard was bawling for him to bring his coffee.
“Better have let the old man alone, Heywood,” said Hawkson. “There’s a lot of trouble bottled up in his old carcass.”
“Well, I’m uncorking a few of my own,” I said, “and if that second mate turns out while I have my hands warm, there’ll be some more.”
Hawkson chuckled.
“You’re taking things rather hard, ain’t ye? You’ll be mighty glad they took ye aboard the old pirate before you’re through.”
“Well,” I said, “you’ve not answered my question, and I’m going to find out a few things in my own way. Piracy is nonsense these days, though if there were such things, you’d be in them all right. How did that skipper get command of this vessel, anyway, and where is she headed for?”
“I told you we were bound for the South Atlantic. Just where, you’ll find out by the time we 43get there. We’re to stop at Nassau to take the owners aboard and then go ahead. That’s all there is to it. Sailing to the Bahamas and then around the Cape of Good Hope over to where the owners want to go. That’s plain as mud, ain’t it?”
“How about the pay? Do you suppose I’ll go for nothing?”
“The pay is good, no fear. You won’t lose anything. Why, most of these fellows here have shipped without knowing any more’n you do, so what’s the use making trouble for yourself? It’s a regular trading voyage. Just plain trading in the Atlantic, an’ if we get the best of some trades, why--so much the better for the owners and all hands. The owners are all right, sonny, an’ they’ll be here to settle.”
“Well, if you had only told me this,” I answered, “I would probably have shipped anyhow, though I don’t care about going forrard again.”
“That’s what I was afraid of, an’ the officers’ berths were full. Three or four o’ the A. B.’s forrards has been mates before. You’ll be all right as gunner if you leave this after-guard alone. It’s goin’ to take all your care now to clear Watkins. He’ll kill you the first chance he gets.”
“Bah!” I said, turning to go.
Hawkson left me and went aft. I hesitated a few moments, looking around to see if any one on 44deck had heard our talk, but there was no one near enough, and those who saw us might have thought the mate was giving me a reprimand for whanging the old steward. Hawkson would be friendly in a rough way, and I did not care for all hands to know it. As I was in Mr. Gull’s watch, I had four hours below before confronting that gentleman, and I might as well take advantage of them, as my head was very painful. Taking one more look over the vessel and beyond where sunlight danced upon the wrinkled blue surface of the ocean, I went to the forecastle hatch and forthwith below. Here I took possession of a bunk which the thoughtful owners had cleaned and painted, and, announcing my claim to the watch who had finished a late breakfast, sat upon its edge and munched a piece of hard bread.
“I see ye whack the old duffer Watkins,” said the fellow Bill. “What’d yer hit him for?”
I told him, and looked at Martin to see if he agreed to my accusations against the old rascal’s honesty. He smoked in silence.
“D’ye know who Watkins is?” asked a big Finn with a long black beard, “because if you don’t, you’re apt to find out too late.”
“Do you know me?” I asked.
The fellow looked surlily at me.
45“Because if you fellows down here don’t, some of you will find out all of a sudden.”
I had noticed that they had left the mess things lying about, as if awaiting something, and then I had a grave suspicion that the something was myself, whom they would delegate to clean up after them. It was just as well to take the matter in hand at the beginning, and if there was to be a fracas to see who was to be the boss of that crowd, the earlier the better.
The big Finn gazed at me, but said nothing, and Bill seemed to size me up closely.
“Who and what is that old swab, Watkins?” I asked, suddenly turning upon Bill.
“They say he was mate with Howard when he was a boy. Served thirty years for a few things they did in the China Seas. Killed more’n forty men.”
“Well,” I answered, “if some one had taken him in hand before he’d killed the last thirty-nine, he would have a better chance than he has now for keeping out of the devil’s company. Now you get hold of those mess things, William, and make the Czar’s cousin here lend a hand. If you don’t, I’ll make you wish Watkins was here to run this mess when the watch is called.”
Here I lounged back in my pew, finishing off with a chunk of salt beef and a cup of cold water. 46Afterward I lit a pipe and smoked complacently, while keeping a lookout to see what the crowd would do.
Bill was a fine specimen of the Norwegian sailor, and he surveyed the mess things contemptuously for a few minutes. Then he seized upon a stocky little Dane, and bade him carry the things away. The men, having finished, were talking and smoking, sitting in their pews or upon the sea-chests the more lucky happened to bring aboard. They saw Bill’s move, and a murmur of disapproval ran among them. Several pointed at me, but I smoked in silence, feeling much better for having eaten something, and recovered my usual strength and spirits. In a few minutes we might be called on deck, perhaps, to trim sail, but if not, the after-breakfast smoke would be followed by an arranging of the forecastle. The little Dane entered a loud protest against his new duties, but Bill silenced him quickly with an oath.
“You do as I tell yer. I’ll settle with the Yank later,” said he.
“There’s no time like the present,” said I, putting my pipe away and slowly rising out of my pew. “I’m the high cock of this roost, and when I give an order below here there needn’t be any settlement called for. Peel off! Get ready, for I’m coming for you, William.”
47The loungers looked up, and Martin chuckled.
“Coom, coom, a fair fight, an’ may the best mon win,” he cried. “Gie us room, laddies, gie us room. I’ll back the Yank, mon, and, Anderson, ye knave, ye’ll back yer Scandinavian.”
Bill was not a coward, but he had the blood of a peaceful race in his veins. He was very strong and able, and he cursed me heartily, while I calmly pulled off my upper garment. His fierce threats only made me more determined to put him through, for the more he swore the angrier he became, telling plainly that the matter was not so greatly to his taste.
As gunner or petty officer of any rank aboard ship, it was absolutely necessary to make a clear start, in order to avoid disagreements later. The weaker must be made to act as cook for the mess, and there was no help for it. It was the rule that had to be established in the same old way.
Martin drew a line across the deck with a piece of charred wood. I stepped up to it and placed the toe of my left foot upon it and was ready. Bill quickly swaggered up, and I landed like lightning upon his jaw. He staggered back into the arms of Anderson. Then he spit out a mouthful of blood, and came at me with an oath and a rush.
There was nothing brutal or rough in this encounter, and, if it savours of the commonplace sailor’s brawl, I can only say that such are the customs on deep-water ships, and they must continue through all time. Life at sea is not always gentle. There is no use trying to make it so. It is nearly always a fight against the elements, and the roughness prevents the customs from becoming effete as those of the drawing-room, where an easy tongue and sarcastic wit does the hurting. This is said to be refined and not brutal, but for my part I have seen men more brutally and cruelly hurt by words than by fists. A person with a weak stomach will stand an uncommon lot of verbal brutality, but when it takes a physical form, they shrink from it and cry out that it is degrading. It is less degrading than a vile tongue.
When Bill landed upon me, there was something of a mix-up, and some short-arm work that might have proved interesting to lovers of sport. We 49were in pretty good training, and the thuds of our blows sounded healthily through the little forecastle. The men lounging in their pews and gazing complacently at us, their bodies and legs well out of the way, made a very appreciative audience and left the deck perfectly clear. Their remarks were not always well advised, for they clamoured loudly for Bill to put the finishing touches to me, while I jolted him repeatedly upon the side of his bullet-head.
Finally Martin and Anderson separated us for a breathing spell, and I had a chance to look about the room with the one eye left me for duty. Then I noticed the companionway blocked by the forms of two men who were somewhat remarkable in appearance. They were dressed in the height of fashion, and sat upon the topmost steps smoking and looking interested. The younger was about my own age, and good-looking, and his companion was nearer middle age, with a face describing free living.
“I have your money on that first round,” said the younger. “The Yank drew first blood,” and he pulled forth a handsome gold watch and noted the time.
“Two to one he loses yet,” said the older man, carelessly, as though it was of no consequence whatever.
That stirred something within me.
“Perhaps you would care for a turn,” I suggested, 50turning sharply at him. But he laughed immoderately, and the younger man joined, slapping his leg, crying:
“I’ll take you! I’ll take you!”
At that instant time was called by Martin, and we went at it again.
There is no use going into the details of the finish, but it will suffice to say that the American eagle which was tattooed upon my breast had no reason to blush. I was somewhat aroused by the unfriendly tone of the Englishman above, and I jolted Bill rather roughly upon the point of his jaw. It was not viciously done, but at the same time I put a bit of weight into my hand, and my heavily limbed antagonist dropped to the floor. Anderson tried to get him to start again, but he reeled as he reached his knees and swayed hopelessly for a space. The motion of the ship seemed to bother him also.
“My money! My money!” cried the younger man above. “The Yank has him going.”
It was more than that, and I felt sorry for Bill. He was out of it, and a heavy jolt might mean something serious. I went to my bunk and began to put my clothes on, while Martin cried for me to wait. “I’ll give you a turn another time,” I said, shortly.
“No, no, he isn’t done for yet,” they all cried, but I knew better.
51Poor Bill! He turned his face up, and I saw his vacant eyes trying to grasp the situation. He was game enough, and struggled to rise, swaying to and fro like an unstayed topmast. The deck would slant away from him and his hand would reach out for support. Then the barque heaved a bit to leeward, and he staggered, swayed, and then pitched forward prone and lay still.
“Pour water over him, mon, pour water over him,” cried Martin, and Anderson sluiced the allowance in the forecastle over the fallen man’s head. Then they raised him and put him in his pew, and, by the time I had finished dressing, he was sitting up regarding me curiously.
“Now, William,” said I, “just as soon as you feel better, you take hold of these mess things and get them cleaned up and shipshape. Jorg there can lend you a hand this morning, and, if he doesn’t bear a hand, I’ll see what kind of skin they raise in Finland.” And I nodded to the bearded fellow who had chosen to question me regarding Watkins. Then I settled myself for a nap, and tied a rag over my bruised side-light, while I smoked and listened to the discussions around me.
The younger man who sat in the companion, and who had backed me, now arose and stood twisting the ends of his little blond moustache while he looked down. His face was tanned a ruddy brown, and 52I was not inclined to find fault with his looks. His companion cursed his luck and Bill, his face almost purple with anger and his black beard fairly bristling.
“I’ll own I’ve lost, Sir John, but may the curse of the vikings strike that lubber I backed,” he growled. “One wouldn’t think there was so little in such a big fellow. I thought Hawkson had a picked crew, but, if that fellow Bill’s the best, they’re a poor lot.”
“I think the Yank proved satisfactorily the Sou’wegian isn’t the best man in the forecastle. Bill is all right enough. Come along. They’ll be all right for our business.”
“And what is their business?” I asked Martin, as they went aft. “Is it to come forrard and try and get on a fracas for their amusement? For if that’s their lay, I’ll see they get one before long if they are passengers.”
“I hear they’re part-owners. The owners will join at the islands. It’s themselves who are runnin’ the vessel an’ expedition,” said the Scot.
“Well, they strike me as a queer lot, and the whole thing don’t seem regular. Here we are in Howard’s old pirate barque, being tricked into signing on. The old rascal is in command, although he must be more than three-quarters of a hundred years old. And here we sail away on an expedition 53no one seems to know anything about except the owners themselves.”
“There ain’t any such thing as piracy in these times, hey?” said Martin, and he looked at me hard with his bright gray eyes, his whole broad face showing plainly enough that he was more than willing that there should be.
“No, of course not,” I said. “How the deuce could a barque like this turn pirate? She isn’t fast enough, in the first place.”
“Ye is wrong there. There ain’t anything afloat that’ll go to windward o’ this craft. Good mon, just look how she travels! Na, na, friend Heywood, this be a trim ship for a robber, and we’re uncommon well manned. Twenty men forrards, and there’ll be nigh a dozen more aft, making up to forty when we ship the owners. ’Tis a biggish crowd fer a barque o’ five hundred ton. Now I’ve been a peaceable man an’ mate o’ a dozen ships,--as you yoursel’,--but I wouldna gie thruppence fer me conscience should th’ owld raskil aft say th’ word. Be you afeard, friend Heywood?”
“Not of you, Watkins, or Howard himself,” I answered, “but it’s all foolishness to think of dodging men-of-war in these days. I’ve sailed in a man-o’-war that would clean the South Sea of all floating things in six months. It’s not that they’re after. They’re up to some expedition among the islands. 54Maybe the scoundrel has treasure hid, and these bloods are going out to hunt it. That’s more like the lay of it.”
“Maybe, maybe, friend Heywood, but even so I’m that keen for the adventure, I’ll not stand for the money they robbed us of, if there’s a chance to get it back.”
“Well, I’ll clear at the Bahamas if I get a chance, unless they show me that advance I missed,” I said, warmly, “and I’ll make that old scoundrel sorry for some of his sins.”
Then we smoked in silence until Hawkson’s voice bawled out for eight bells, and a rough-looking Dutchman poked his head below and bellowed the news, receiving an old sea-boot full in the face from Martin for his pains.
The morning had passed rapidly enough, and although tired and sore from the incidents of the past few hours, I was not sorry to go on deck and get a breath of fresh sea air.
Mr. Gull, the second mate, was already on deck when we arrived, and I expected to continue our pleasantries of the early morning. He looked hard at us and said nothing, and then I knew Hawkson had put in a word for me, for no second mate could otherwise have resisted the temptation of taking it out of an able-bodied seaman, no matter how able-bodied he might be. I was informed shortly that I was made gunner, and was henceforth in charge of the barque’s battery to see that it was kept in order. But there was no more room aft for any more petty officers. Henry and Watkins occupied the only remaining room, on account of the space occupied by the passengers and their luggage. Jorg, the Finn, I found was the carpenter, but he also had to share the forecastle.
Before going below, Hawkson summoned all hands, and he and Gull went through the old form of choosing the watches.
56“Bos’n,” said Hawkson, addressing Richards, “you may muster the men aft.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the man-o’-war’s man, and he touched his cap with his hand like in the old days aboard the frigate when I had seen him speak to the officer of the deck.
It was something of a surprise to me, and also to the rest, to find the man who had served under me as second mate as bos’n of that crowd. It made me think that perhaps I might dispute the position with him, for I was a navigator and capable of working the ship’s position to a fairly accurate extent, and old Peter Richards was only a plain able seaman. But I soon saw why he had been chosen. He was a trained man and used to the discipline of a fighting ship, and there were plenty of navigators aft. He was very sober and quiet in his manner this day, and I wondered at it, for I was under the impression he had been fooled into going aboard like the rest of us.
“How is it, Peter,” I asked, as he came near me, “are you going to give me my orders?”
“Yes, and I advise you to obey them without making trouble for yourself,” said he, quietly. “You came into the ship with your eyes wide open. Now stand to it. I told you I’d follow you and take care of you.”
He said the last part of his speech with just a 57suspicion of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, and I was not in the humour to be laughed at.
“All right, my cock,” said I, “if you are one of the officers and know the destination of this hooker, you will oblige me by telling me her port of destination. If you don’t, I might be tempted to argue the question with you. You are not pretty, Peter, when you smile.”
“Don’t think I would tackle you, Heywood,” said he, looking sternly at me. “You’ve been aboard a fighting craft, and know just what I’ll do if you don’t turn to when I say. I don’t know any more about this vessel than you do, except--well, except that I wouldn’t have picked her out as a choice of ships. If you had used your eyes before you signed on, you could have seen she was something irregular. Brace up and do what you’re told until you find out what you’re in for.”
Then he went along to get the rest of the crew.
The men who had temporarily gone below to get their morning meal, and who had remained below as the port watch, were now lined up with those on deck, and Hawkson began by choosing a huge fellow named Jones. He was a big, burly, red-headed Welshman. Then Gull chose Bill in spite of his appearance. And so it went until each had an equal number of men on a side, Jorg going into 58the starboard, and myself into the port watch, for we were in the forecastle with the rest, while Richards slung his hammock in Hawkson’s room. I started on the forward guns, and spent the rest of the day polishing.
The weather was fine and it was exhilarating to sit in the gun-port to windward and watch the old barque go. The land had now entirely disappeared to the eastward, and we were rapidly drawing off.
The barque was very fast. With a breeze of not more than twelve knots, she was running a full nine knots, seeming hardly to disturb the smooth sea. Her wake was clean, and only the steady pouring of her bow-wave whitened her path.
I sat for hours rubbing the muzzles of the guns with whale-oil and dust, and, as I did so, I watched the flaking foam of the side-wash spread away with its musical hiss and tinkle. Down deep in the blue below a piece of weed now and then flashed past, looking like an eel or snake as the sunlight wavered upon it. It was a warm, lazy day, and I pondered long upon the strange turn of fortune that had suddenly placed me upon the old barque with her sinister past and mysterious future. Here she was all fitted out for a long voyage, but without any cargo to speak of, and that little stowed in such a manner that it was easy of access.
59I gazed aloft at the fine rigging, and noted how well her canvas was cut. Every sail was fitted as aboard a man-o’-war, and all her running gear was of new hemp line of the finest grade, totally unlike the loose laid stuff they used for clew-lines, bunt-lines, leach-lines, and even braces aboard the ordinary western ocean merchantmen. Hawkson had the yards trimmed in a shipshape and seamanlike manner, and the grease or varnish upon them brought out the grain of the wood. They were large for a vessel of five hundred ton. High above, the mainroyal swung across a cloud-flecked zenith, a small white strip, while beneath, in regular rotation, stretched the t’gallantsail, topsail, and mainsail into increasing size until across the main-yard the distance must have been full seventy feet or more.
The breeze hummed and droned under the foot of the great mainsail, sounding restful and pleasant with the easy roll of the vessel.
I was thinking how easy it would be to desert the ship at Providence Harbour, in the Bahamas, and return to the States. It was but a few days’ run from there to Savannah, and plenty of small vessels would be bound over at this time of the year. It was degrading to have to polish brass like a common foremast hand. However, if I tired of it, I was really only working my way home. That was the 60best way to look at it. But the thought of home changed the half-formed purpose. What was there in the name for me? Only a poor old mother living in a bit of a house, with a negro girl I had brought from Jamaica some years before. They were dependent entirely upon me and the little money I had saved to eke out an existence, the girl doing all the work and caring for the aged mother. If I went back, there would be only one more to draw on the small hoard, and I might not get another berth very soon. Here was a very proper ship, rigged almost like a man-o’-war, and evidently bound on some special mission. Perhaps there was money to be made. At all events, there would be little lost by staying in her, for the pay in American ships was almost as poor as the English.
While I thought over these matters, I watched the two passengers, who were lounging aft on the quarter, smoking long clay pipes and drinking ale from a tankard filled from a keg in the lazarette. They certainly appeared well-to-do people, and, if they were part-owners, there was little doubt from their manners that they were used to living as gentlemen of wealth and position.
Bill came down from aloft along the weather main-rigging above me, where he had been fastening chafing-gear on the backstays at the point the topsail-yard would touch. He saw me gazing aft 61while I rubbed, and he dropped somewhat ostentatiously upon the deck to attract my attention.
“Welcome, hey?” he said.
“Of course,” I answered, holding out a greasy hand. “Why not?”
“Well, I’ve no grudge, John,” said he. “You licked me fair enough.”
“You haven’t come for another one?” I asked, smiling.
“No,” he said, grasping my fingers in a tarry grip, “no, I believe you’re all right. I youst wanted to ask what you t’ought of the passengers. They say they’re part-owners. Now, I’ve been in American ships ten years and more, an’ I never t’ought to go in a wessel not knowin’ youst where she’s bound, did you?”
“How did you come to ship in her?” I asked.
“Oh, I signed all right. I youst saw she was a fine wessel an’ the pay good,--more’n a mate of an old country wessel,--so I t’ought it all right. Only I’d youst like to find out, friend John, where she’s bound for,--I mean what port.”
“The first is Nassau, but we’re signed for some place in the South Atlantic or Pacific, and unless you’re going to cut and run, or make a pier-head jump, you’ll land in some of the South Sea Islands for certain,” said I. “Who got you to come aboard?”
62“A little fellow youst like a fox,--Henry they called him; he hasn’t been on deck yet much. I t’ought he’d be a bit backward turnin’ out--There he is now, comin’ out on the main-deck. If you soak him one, I’ll stand by, for it would youst serve him right, or if you youst stand by, I’ll attend to it, hey?”
“No use, Bill,” I answered; “there’ll be enough of real sure fracases before we’re on the beach again. Let him alone. It will only make trouble aft, and then the whole after-guard will be for putting us through. I’ll look out he don’t put his face in the forecastle, but he’s third mate, and he belongs aft. These vessels are not like American ships. A fellow don’t take rating by his hands, and if you whollop an officer it only means trouble. I like your style, Bill, and, if there’s trouble, I’ll stick close to you; but there won’t be any unless you make it.”
Bill held out his big fist again and squeezed mine. There was an honest look in his blue eyes I liked, albeit they were pretty well draped in black from the discipline of the early morning. We were friends from that moment, and I never had cause to regret that hand-shake.
Henry saw us looking at him and came forward. He was afraid of nothing on a ship’s deck, and, if he were a tricky little sea-wolf, he was as grim 63as any in the forests of the New England shores. He swung up his hand to his cap as he reached me, but took no notice of Bill. I kept on rubbing the breech of the gun and took no notice, for I was still a trifle sore at the way he had treated me.
“Mister Heywood, I saluted you, sir,” said Henry, stopping.
“So you did,” I answered, “and it does great credit to that mother of yours that your manners are proper. I always return the salute of an honest man, though it’s hardly necessary aboard ship, especially merchant vessels.”
“Now, see here, Heywood, what’s the use of keeping up a grudge? I got you into a good ship, didn’t I? And, if you ain’t mate, you’re gunner.”
“If I had a grudge, I would wring your neck, Henry,” I answered, calmly.
“No fear, Hi say,” he answered, smiling, and held out his hand. “Put ’er there and we’ll call it even, hey?”
I held out my hand, for there was really little use keeping up a bad feeling aboard. I might as well see the joke and bear a hand with the rest. I held out a greasy paw to signify all was well.
The next instant his long fingers, which I had at first noticed on the pier, closed upon mine like a steel vice, and I involuntarily cried out with the 64pain. Such a grip! There was nothing human about it, and I felt my bones cracking.
“Let go!” I roared, and Bill sprang upon him at the same instant.
But Henry grabbed his arm before he could strike, and there we stood like two boys for an instant, unable to move, with the keen-faced rascal between us. Before either could strike with the disengaged hand, Henry cast us loose with a laugh.
“Don’t you try it,” he grinned, as he passed forward.
The bos’n of an English ship usually has eight hours or more below, and the best part of four watches on deck. This enables him to walk around after the men and take charge during the time they are at work and the navigator is unable to leave the poop or quarter-deck. Yankee bos’ns, or fourth mates, as we used to call them, were distinguished by a rough, strong voice made raucous by hard usage. Yelling and swearing at delinquent mariners, as the shore folk put it, was supposed to be their principal occupation, and to a certain extent the shore folk were right. But Richards was not noisy. Neither did he have the rough voice of the man-o’-war bos’n. He was as gentle as any shore-bred person, and even while he had served as second mate under me, he had never been anything but “Old” Richards,--old because he was so quiet.
When he took in hand the crew of that ship, it made me smile to think of him tackling men like 66Bill, Jones, or myself. Yet there he was over us, and it soon began to look like Hawkson knew what he was about when he put him in charge.
In the first place he had been used to discipline. He had served on a war-ship for so long that he seemed to know just what to do to get men to work without getting afoul of them.
There is an art in this. It is born in some, cultivated in others, but absolutely impossible to define in a way that might be useful to the great majority, for it is a mixture of so many qualities, so many different freaks and phases of temperament, and generally so dependent upon chance for its establishment, that it must be dealt with only as a peculiarity happening in human beings at remote intervals.
Richards had the one necessary quality to begin with, and that was a really kind disposition under his silent exterior. There was nothing offensive in him, and, while he never seemed to attract any one, he did not repel them. Magnetism he possessed in abundance, but this quality is of small use among men who have to be made to do things which often result in death and always in discomfort.
Often he would sit and listen to the arguments of the men, and they would sometimes appeal to 67him as judge, because he was so quiet and always gave them an answer they could understand.
“What makes ye sa keen fer carryin’ on discipline, friend Richards?” asked Martin, good-humouredly, one evening as the watch sat or lounged about the forecastle scuttle waiting to be called.
“It’s not your country’s ship; why d’ye care? Now a war-ship an’ a patriot I kin understand. I was a patriot mysel’.”
“I fou’t for England,” said big Jones, “but that ware different.”
“You’d have fought for China just as quick,” said the bos’n, “if any men you knew were going out to fight. It’s the same aboard a fighting craft as it is here. I’ve seen clerks in the shipping-houses, that couldn’t tell a cutlass from a pike, go crazy to fight when the war broke out. They liked to be called ‘patriots,’ too. All men like to fight if the whole crowd go in. It’s excitement and vanity. You’ll be more of a patriot and less a fighting man after you get ashore to stay.”
“Ay, that he will,” said Tim, the American. “He’s too ready for fight, an’ a bit o’ discipline will do him good.”
“Ah, hark ye at the bit o’ a man,” sneered Martin. “One might think he feared a little fracas, hey?” and he leered at the small sailor, who looked 68him squarely in the eyes and swore at him, for a bullying Scot he was.
Somehow, Richards never made trouble between men. They rarely took offence at his answers, and he never struck one.
To him the striking of a man lowered him at once. If the man was an equal and had any self-respect, it was necessary to go further into the matter always, he explained. If he had not enough self-respect to fight his smiter to the last limit, then he was taking whatever chance the fellow had of ever becoming a man, for no man, he held, could be a person of spirit and courage and allow another to strike him. It might work well in religious congregations, where men were tricky and desperately low and mean, stooping to any vile revenge, but among men at sea upon a ship deck it was different. To assault a man weaker than himself was almost as bad in his eyes as assaulting a girl. In either case, the victim’s self-respect was lost, and the person consequently liable to be ruined. It would require a nice adjustment, he claimed, to prevent murder. He very plainly stated that, if Martin, Jones, or any one of the heavy fellows who might be tempted to try accounts with him at some disliked order, should so far forget the discipline of the ship and make a fight with him, he would be bound by all law and precedent, as upon a man-of-war, 69to kill him. The turning of the smitten cheek to the offender was not to be taken literally. It meant a man should show due forbearance before entering into a fracas, which would certainly end fatally for one or the other.
This doctrine might not appeal to the landsman, and from a certain point of view it might appear unchristian. But, if there was ever a man who practised kindness toward his fellow men, that man was the bos’n of the old pirate barque. He was honest.
I had found that on former cruises to heathen islands and countries, the heathen were usually all right until some of the professed Christians appeared to convert them. Afterward the histories of these places were of a somewhat sinister character, and, if ever there was an exception to prove the rule, I had never heard tell of it. Every so-called Christian country had allowed and advanced all kinds of oppression among natives. Whether this was for their spiritual welfare or not, it is not necessary to inquire, the fact was always the same. Therefore, I was interested in our future course, but, from the steady discipline and forbearance of the officers, expected to see very little of the usual kind of conversion. Every ship full of canting religionists came home full of black murder and worse. There was much more to be expected from a vessel 70whose after-guard stood for easy ship in regard to these matters.
Sometimes, in the evening dog-watches, Richards would even take the liberty of coming into the forecastle and joining in the talk, or sitting upon the forecastle head in the warm wind and listening to a chanty roared out by Martin or some one who had served in the Eastern trade-ships. One of the favourite songs, made up from different snatches heard either upon the men-of-war or along the dock-ends of Liverpool, ran something like this:
“We had come to anchor fine, sir,
In a vessel o’ the line, sir,
We had cruised for five years steady
Upon the Southern Seas--
When a boat from off the shore, sir,
Brought a lady out aboard, sir,
She was black as soot an’ mud, sir,
An’ she smelled o’ oil an’ grease--”
Then all hands would roar out with will the refrain, pointing to the bos’n:
“Then up jumped the bos’n, up jumped the crew,
The first mate, second mate, the cook and steward too--
But the captain swore he’d have her,
An’ the mate ’e tried to grab her,
She couldn’t have ’em all, sir--
What could the lady do?”
Sometimes the gentlemen from aft would come forward and lend a hand with some new version 71of an old song, but more often they were content to listen from the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck.
Old Howard never interfered with hilarity, but rather encouraged it. I wondered at this, but remembered the cruise had only just begun. I had seen captains encourage men before. Sometimes it held a more sinister meaning than simple delight at their pleasure.
During the next week’s run we made a deal of westing, passing to the southward of the Azores and getting well into the western ocean. The northeast trade was picked up, and, as it was well to the eastward, it enabled us to carry on stun’sails fore and aft.
We were better acquainted in the fo’castle now, and I had learned to like several men of my watch. Bill was a warm friend. Martin proved a very entertaining fellow, but was absolutely without principle. Anderson was quiet and attended to his duties like the average Swede, being a good sailor and an excellent hand for sewing canvas and making chafing-gear. He went by the name of Goldy in the forecastle on account of the colour of his hair, which was bushy and covered his face.
In the other watch was Jones, the giant Welshman, who was one of the best men that ever stood 73upon a ship’s deck. He was as strong as a whale and as kind-hearted as a girl.
But the little fellow called Tim, who was in my watch, was the man I chummed with. He was not much to look at, being small, ugly, red-headed, and freckled. He was an American, however, and there was that something about him that drew me to him as the magnet draws iron. He had been pressed into the British navy before the war, and had served his time. When the fighting was over and he received his discharge, he shipped in an East-Indiaman, and made two voyages around the world. Why he never returned to his home in the States was the cause of some speculation on my part, but, as he never mentioned his people, I refrained from trespassing. It is bad form for a sailor to inquire too closely into his shipmate’s past.
Tim was so insignificant looking among those picked men that I took little or no notice of him until one night when it was blowing a stiff gale and the barque was staggering along under topsails through an ugly cross-sea that made her old timbers groan with the wrench.
I had occasion to go to the forecastle head, and, while I stood there, leaning over the life-line which did duty for a rail, I became absorbed for a few minutes watching the fine phosphorescent display in the bow wave. The night was very dark, and 74the deep, booming note of the taut fabric above and the rushing sound below drowned all minor noises.
Suddenly I heard my name called loudly, and something soft struck me in the back. I turned and saw no one, but, while I searched the darkness with my eyes, the door of the forward cabin opened, and I saw for an instant the tall, erect form of Watkins, the steward, against the light inside. I continued to look over the side until a hand was laid upon my shoulder, and the little man Tim, who was really hardly more than a boy, slewed me around none too gently.
“’Tain’t healthy,” said he, “to be near the side o’ nights in a ship where things is queer. You came nearer your end a minute ago than you ever will again but once,” and he nodded aft.
“The steward?” I asked.
He nodded again, and looked so serious that my first inclination to laugh died away at once. “He was within two fathoms of you when I hailed, and his knife was as long as that,” and he stuck forth his arm with his left hand placed midway to the shoulder.
“So that’s his game, is it?” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on him hereafter. The whole outfit aft have something queer about them. I’m obliged to you 75for the warning. What was it that struck me in the back?”
“Pair o’ my rolled-up socks,--the only ones I’ve got, too,--an’ if they’re gone overboard, I’ll have to go barefooted, for I can’t abide shoes without socks. Them ratlines do cut the bare feet of a feller most uncommon though, an’ I’ll have a job aloft in the morning sending down them t’gallantstun’sail-booms.”
He searched about the forecastle deck for some minutes in the darkness, but failed to find them. The night being warm, we remained on deck, as the stiff wind was invigorating and the forecastle somewhat close. Finally we sat upon the weather side of the windlass and leaned against it. There was a man on lookout forward, but we were pretty well out of the track of ships, and the only person liable to disturb us was the third mate, who might come forward to trim head-sail. The starboard watch were grouped upon the main-hatch, lounging and resting, and Hawkson walked fore and aft on the poop, his tall form showing dimly now and then as he passed the cabin skylights where the light from within flared up. We snuggled down comfortably to sleep, but the snore of the gale through the rigging and under the forestaysail kept us wakeful. I watched Tim alongside of me, and saw he was still chewing his tobacco.
76“How did you come to get into the hooker without clothes?” I asked, thinking he was tricked like myself.
“Signed all right. There’s money in her, if what I believe is correct. She’ll pay a feller like me. I’ve got no ties ashore. But they’re a tough crowd. That feller, Sir John Hicks,--you’ve heard of him, hey?”
“Never did. What’s he done?” I asked.
“He ain’t done nothin’ in particular, but he’s the wildest of the family. Got plenty o’ money, an’ that Lord George Renshaw, the old un,--well, say, Heywood, you’ve heard how he got chased out o’ London?”
I had heard nothing, being an American.
“I forgot,” he went on. “You see, I’m mighty nigh an Englishman,” and he spoke sadly and sighed, heaving his tobacco away.
“Why do you stick to English ships after they stuck you for three years? I should think you’d drop them by this time,” I said.
He turned upon me savagely, his eyes shining and his face drawn.
“Why do I?” he cried, hoarsely, his voice sounding above the snore overhead. “Why do I? What business is it of yours why I do it? Why would any man do the thing I’ve done--but to forget--not the British Navy, good God, no. It was 77bad enough, but you can forget it easy enough, and to forget--”
“A woman?” I asked, boldly.
“What else,” he said, almost softly. “I was a decent man once, Heywood, and not an outlaw--what you will be if you stay aboard here. Yes, I was married. Had as good girl as ever breathed. But I was poor. What crime can a feller commit equal to poverty, hey? You know the old, old yarn. I go to sea as mate of an Indiaman, and the owner saw the beauty of that angel. Do I blame her? Not a bit. What chance would a poor girl left alone for a few months have with a rich young feller like him,--an’ him a rich ship-owner standin’ for everything that’s good to the mind of a poor girl. She was lost if he went unchecked, an’ who would check the honourable gentleman? Not her friends. Oh, no! He took her out on a voyage with him--an’ left her without a cent--an’ now I’ll forget.”
“What’s against the ship?” I asked.
He seemed not to hear and was gazing aft, his head thrown back against the windlass barrel. I repeated the question.
“Nothing I know of. But you can rest easy, Heywood, they are up to some expedition that won’t bear the light. If you take a fool’s advice, you’ll make the jump at Nassau.”
78“Are you going there?” I asked.
“I don’t say. Mebbe I will, an’ mebbe no. But you better.”
“I’m glad you take such an interest in my future,” I said, rather shortly.
He turned full upon me, and I saw his eyes shine in the light. “Look here, Heywood, I don’t deserve that. You’ve got a bad memory. I may have been a fool to let off about myself. I reckon I was, but I’ve liked you, and there’s not a damn thing aboard here I ever could like except you. I say again, it’ll be best for you if you jump her at Nassau.”
“Well,” I said, “Tim, I’m pretty mean to say you no after saving me from that Watkins’s carver, though I reckon I could take care of the old duffer even if he had forty knives. I didn’t mean to rough you, for it’s with you whether I go or not. I’d stay aboard to be with you, and that’s saying a bit more than I’ve said to any man for some time.”
He gazed steadily at me, and I thought his eyes had a wistful look. Then he spoke low in a voice I could hardly hear.
“I’m glad you like me, Heywood. Maybe we’ll go together. Yes, we might go together. Afterward--afterward--you won’t mind a feller being, so to say, a bit outside the law. There’ll be a line for my neck, you know, if--well, no matter. If 79you stay in the ship, there’ll be one for all hands, if there’s any faith to be placed in signs.”
Then we remained silent for a long time. I thought of Watkins and his dastardly attempt upon me, and wondered if Tim was not a bit off in his mind. But when I remembered the lost socks, I knew he was not mistaken, for a sailor would hesitate a long time before throwing his last pair away. The danger must have been imminent. It was a queer ship. That was certain. Half her crew had been shipped by fraud, and her alleged owners were not above reproach. As to her captain, there was nothing he was not capable of, provided it was wrong, in spite of his years and mask-like face, withered and bare as a sun-scorched lemon. We must have been asleep when the watch was called, for I remember nothing of the bells, and suddenly found myself looking into the rising sun, which shone with unusual vigour over a windy sea.
Tim was just in the act of going below as I looked at the forecastle scuttle. His face seemed pale and drawn, but he smiled as he dived down the companion-way.
“You can get those gun-covers laced fast before we start washing down decks,” said Mr. Gull, coming to the edge of the forecastle, and I was soon on the main-deck with my trousers up to my knees, enjoying the rushing warm sea water the watch 80were flinging along the gangway, following it aft with squeegee and swab until the planks were spotless.
How refreshing is that breeze of the early day at sea! The lines, all damp with the salt dew of the night, hum a note of gladness to welcome the rising disc of light. The brisk sea wind freshens, wrinkling the broad ridges rushing before it, and brushing their white crests into a wide spread of glittering jewels that flash, sparkle, and hiss in the growing light. The air braces the tired body, and the appetite grows keen. The men of the morning watch take on new life, and all eyes begin to cast looks at the galley stovepipe, watching for the increasing volume of smoke outpouring that tells of the preparation of the morning meal.
For the next three weeks we ran smoothly to the westward, with nothing occurring aboard The Gentle Hand to break the monotony of ship’s duty. The stiff breeze, the edge of the northeast trade-wind, bore us steadily on over warm seas bright with sunlight and under blue skies flecked with the lumpy trade clouds that hung apparently motionless in the void above.
During this weather I had little to do, and had a better chance of seeing something of the after-guard while looking to the gear of the two long twelves we carried upon the quarter-deck for stern-chasers. We carried no metal on the forecastle, and it appeared that these heavy guns aft were out of all proportion to the rest of the battery.
I spoke to Hawkson about it, but he explained that the natives of the Navigator, Society, and Fiji groups were somewhat dangerous, and that, as our 82mission was one of peaceful trading, we would always run when attacked rather than fight, and the heavy twelves were for keeping large canoes at a distance.
“It would be a rather large canoe,” I admitted, “that would face the fire of a long twelve-pounder as heavy as any used in vessels of the frigate class. The islands you speak of are not, however, in the South Atlantic.”
“You always were a clever lad, Heywood,” said he, with an ugly smile. “What a smart one you were to see the error of that! But we’ll have a try just to see what you can hit. Get a beef barrel and heave it overboard, an’ get the men of the gun-crew aft.”
After that we seldom let many days slip without practice. Tim begged me to take him in the gun-crew, and, as he was as active as a monkey, I always let him have a chance. He grew very quiet and sad as we drew near the Bahamas, and when we ran clear of the trade, within a hundred miles of the island, he seemed to be gazing over the sunlit ocean, watching for a coming breeze.
Sometimes I had him aft, polishing the brass of a gun-breech, and I noticed that he divided his attention mostly between the captain, Hicks, and Renshaw, and the southern horizon.
The great southern ocean is a lonely place, but 83its very loneliness and quietness on the edge of the great winds makes it appeal to a turbulent soul.
Tim and I sat a long time on the breech of the stern-chaser, rubbing the metal easily and gazing out over the calm ocean. It was quiet aboard, and the voices of the men on the main-deck sounded loud and discordant. The slatting of the canvas was the only sound aloft, the royals jerking at the clews first as the barque swung easily on the swell, and then the t’gallantsails followed by the topsails fore and aft, the taut canvas fanning the almost still air with the rolling swing, making the jerking of the tacks and clews sound rhythmically upon the ear. Below, the captain and his two passengers smoked and drank their ale under the cabin skylight, their jokes sounding particularly coarse in the sunlit quiet.
Tim suddenly stopped work and gazed to the southward. Far away, miles and miles to windward, the horizon darkened slightly where the deeper blue of the ocean stood out against the pale azure of the semitropical sky.
While he looked, there came a sound over the water. It was a long, plaintive cry of immense volume, but hardly distinct enough to be heard unless the listener gave his attention. It was like a wild minor chord of a harp, long continued and sustained, rising and falling over the dark blue 84heave of the swells where the light air darkened and streaked the ruffled surface. Farther away to windward, the ocean took on a deeper blue, and the air filled the sails more steadily for a few minutes.
Tim stood gazing into the distance, his eyes bright and his lips parted, but there was an expression of peace and tranquillity upon his freckled face that I had never noticed before.
“It’s the calling, Heywood, Heywood,” he whispered. “It’s the great calling of the millions who have gone before. Listen!”
I heard it. The sad, wailing notes coming from miles and miles away to windward over that smooth sea, with the freshening breeze, made an impression upon me I could not throw off. It vibrated through my whole being, and was like the voice of great loneliness calling from the vast world of sea and sky. It was not like the hum of the trade in the rigging or the snore of a gale under the foot of a topsail, nor like the thunderous roar of the hurricane through the rigging of a hove-to ship. The melancholy sadness of the long-sustained wail was musical to a degree. I sat there listening.
Of course, it must have been caused by the wind over the surface of the sea at a great distance, or by different currents of air in passing, but the effect upon the imagination was like that which might be caused by the prolonged cry of a distant host 85from the vastness of sunlit waste. It pervaded my whole being, and enforced listening to its call, seeming to draw my soul to it as if out in that sparkling world of rippling wavelets lay the end of all strife and the great eternal peace.
Tim stretched forth his arm. His eyes held a strange look in them, and he moved to the rail as though in a dream.
“I am coming, May, coming,” he whispered.
Before I realized what had happened, he had gone over the side. Then I jumped to my feet with a yell, and bawled out: “Man overboard!” at the same time heaving the end of a gun-tackle over the taffrail. The cry and noise of my rush brought the entire watch to the side, and the captain and Hawkson to the quarter-rail. The barque was barely moving, and Tim was alongside. But he refused to take the end of the line. There was an exclamation beside me at the taffrail, and Renshaw leaned his elbows upon the rail and looked over at the sinking sailor. Their eyes met for an instant, and Tim made a grab for the line. He was hauled up quickly, and went forward without a word of excuse to the captain and Hawkson’s inquiries as to how he happened overboard.
It was a strange occurrence, and I pondered over it that evening while the barque rolled slowly toward the islands under a bright moon, and our watch 86stretched themselves upon the main-hatch to smoke and spin yarns. Tim avoided me.
The next morning we found ourselves close to New Providence Harbour, the white water of the Great Bahama bank stretching away on all sides.
The skipper seemed to know the bank pretty well, for he sprung his luff and headed into the harbour without waiting for a pilot. We ran close in, clewing up the topsails as we went; then dropping the head-sails, let go the hook within pistol-shot of the town of Nassau. The town looked inviting enough. There it lay, and any kind of a swimmer could make the beach easily. In fact, before we had the sails rolled up there were niggers alongside, swimming out in utter disregard for sharks, and begging for a coin to be tossed overboard that they might dive for it and catch it before it reached the bottom. I was anxious about Tim. His strange action and talk made me expect some peculiar happening, and I watched him closely.
Martin came to me as I stood in the fore-rigging and spoke, looking longingly at the white coral beach, where the cocoanuts raised their bunchy, long-leaved tops into the hot air and rustled softly an invitation to the sailor.
“I say, Heywood, ye dare do it or no, hey?” he said.
“I’ll see,” I answered; “but isn’t the barky all 87right? We’ve been treated mighty well even if we were gulled in signing into her. I don’t know the place, and we might be a great deal worse off ashore.”
“Barky be sunk! What the devil care I for the barky, man? Didn’t I sign on as mate?”
Bill came down from aloft and joined us, and then big Jones came forward with Tim. We made a pretence of coiling down running-gear on the pin-rail, while we gazed longingly at the shore.
While we looked, a whale-boat shot out from the landing. It was rowed by eight strapping blacks, the oars double-banked, and in the stern-sheets were two men in white linen, looking very cool and trim in the hot sunshine. As the craft drew nearer, we saw she was heading for us, and the two men were gazing at our quarter-deck, where Hawkson and Captain Howard were talking earnestly with Hicks and Renshaw. The one who was steering was a medium-sized man with a smooth, red face, his beard seeming to start just beneath his chin and fill his collar with its shaggy growth that shot upward from somewhere below.
Behind this man in the stern-sheets, I caught the flutter of a dress, and soon made out the figure of a young girl dressed in white muslin.
“Who is it?” asked Bill. “Looks youst like an admiral.”
88“It’s Yankee Dan,” said Tim. “I thought so. That’s his daughter with him. He’s the biggest trader north o’ Cuba.”
“The deil run away with him,” said Martin. “If he’s backin’ this barque fer nothin’ but plain, honest trade, I’m no man fer him. She ware a pirit once, why not again? I slip before dark. Will ye be the mon to follow, ye giant Jones, or be ye nothin’ but a beefy lout like what ye look?”
The big fellow scowled at this.
“Ef you are the better man, show me to-night,” said he.
The boat had now drawn up alongside, and the bearded fellow in charge stood up and hailed the quarter-deck, where Howard, Hawkson, and the rest were leaning over the rail watching him. Hicks and Renshaw bowed and removed their hats in deference to the young lady, but Hawkson and the skipper stood stiff.
“Didn’t expect to see you, Howard,” cried the trader. “They haven’t hung you yet! How is it? Rope scarce? Lines give out? This is my daughter,--and you’ll be damn civil to her if you’ll do any business with me. Swing over your ladder, and don’t keep me waiting. I won’t wait for you or any other bull-necked Britisher.”
Hawkson had already had Mr. Gull swing out the accommodation ladder from the poop, and the 89second mate simply lowered it an inch or two as the whale-boat swept up.
“Take in them oak gales,” roared Yankee Dan, whacking the stroke oarsman over the knuckles with a light cane he carried. Then pulling savagely upon the port tiller-rope, the boat swung up alongside the ladder under full headway.
“Stop her,” he bellowed.
It looked as though she would go rasping along the whole length of the barque with the impetus, but the blacks were instantly at the rail, grasping and seizing anything in their powerful hands, while one man forward, who had banked the bow oar, stood up with a huge hook and rammed its point into our side to check her. She brought up so suddenly that the trader was almost thrown from his feet.
“Come aboard, Whiskers, an’ don’t tear all our paint off,” said Hawkson, swaying the man-ropes so they fell aboard.
The old trader glanced upward, the white hair of his beard sticking out aggressively over his collar and framing his otherwise hairless face in a sort of bristling halo. I saw the young girl flash a glance of disdain at the poop and then seize the man-ropes. She sprang lightly upon the ladder and mounted rapidly to the deck, followed by the younger man, 90who had replied to none of the salutations and had quietly awaited events.
Yankee Dan followed and seized Hawkson’s hand, greeting him as an old friend. Then he slapped Captain Howard a rousing blow upon the back and introduced his daughter. Mr. Curtis shook hands all round, appearing to know every one, and we rightly surmised that he was the principal owner.
The vociferous trader kept talking in high good humour, being on familiar terms with Hicks, Renshaw, and the captain, and our men were anxious to hear his words, hoping to gather something in reference to our cruise. As for me, I found my attention drawn more toward the young lady, for never had I seen such perfection in womanly form or feature.
She was tall, and her figure, while not stout, had a supple fulness that spoke of great strength and grace. Her face was full and rosy, and her dark eyes were exquisitely bright, glancing quickly at a word or look. Her mouth, partly open, showed strong white teeth, and her smile was a revelation. There was nothing about her that spoke of her father save her apparent good humour and disdain for conventionalities. Her eyes were gentle, and had nothing of the fierce twinkle of the trader’s. Altogether I was so entirely taken up noting her 91charms that I was not aware of Mr. Gull until he came close to us and bawled out:
“Clear away the long-boat. All loafers who are tired of the sea and want a run on the beach get ready to go ashore.”