"Short it is, my boy. Get her down low. The more she looks like you, the better she'll do, hey? What d'you think of that, Mr. Rolling? The shorter the longer, the longer the shorter—see? The sooner the quicker, eh? Supposen the question was asked you, Mr. Rolling, what'd you say, hey? Why is Mr. Trunnell like a lady's bouquet, hey? Why is the little man like a bunch of flowers? Don't insult him, Mr. Rolling. The sanitary outfit of the cabin is all right. 'Tain't that. No, split me, it ain't that. Think a minute."
Trunnell walked to and fro without a word, while the captain grinned. The fellow at the wheel, Bill Spielgen, a square-cut man with an angular face and enormous hands, stared sullenly into the binnacle.
"It's because he's a daisy," rapped out the skipper. "That's it, Mr.Rolling, he's a daisy, ha, ha, ha! Split me, if he ain't, ho, ho, ho!Shorten her down, Trunnell; you're a daisy, and no mistake."
There was a distinct smell of liquor in the light breeze, and as the skipper came within the glare of the binnacle lamp I could see he was well set up. Trunnell went to the break of the poop and called out for the watch to clew down the fore and mizzen skysails. He was much upset at the skipper's talk, but knew better than to show it. The captain now turned his attention to the man at the wheel.
"How d'you head, Bill?" said he.
"West b' no'the," said Bill.
The skipper came to the wheel and stuck his lean face close to the quartermaster's. His glinting eyes grew to two little points and his hooked nose wrinkled on the sides as he showed his teeth while he drawled in a snarling tone:—
"D'you set up for a wit, Bill, that you joke with your captain, hey? Is that it, you square-toed, lantern-jawed swab? Would you like me to rip you up the back, or lam some of the dirt out of your hide, hey? Is that it? Don't make jokes at your captain, Bill. It's bad business."
Then he went on in a more conciliating tone:—
"Just remember that I'm a knight of a round table, or square one either, for that matter, while I'm aboard this boat, and if you forget to mention my title of 'Sir,' every time you speak of me, you'll want to get your hide sewed on tight."
"I beg pardon, sir," said Bill, taking a fresh grip upon the spokes with his great hands.
"That's right, my son; you're a beggar aboard this here boat. Don't aspire to anything else."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the quartermaster.
"And now that you've got to your bearings, as Trunnell would say, I'll tell you a little story about a man who lost a pet dog called Willie."
I saw that it was high time for me to get forward, and slipped away. I turned in ready for a call, thinking that perhaps Trunnell was right in regard to our future prospects in the South Atlantic.
When I turned out for the mid-watch that night, Trunnell met me at the door of the forward cabin. It was pitch dark on deck, and the wind had died away almost entirely. The canvas had been rolled up, as it had begun to slat heavily against the masts with the heave from a long, quick swell that ran rapidly from the southward. The running gear was not new, and Trunnell was a careful mate, so the ship was down to her upper topsails on the fore and mizzen and a main t'gallant on mainmast, the courses fore and after being clewed up and left hanging.
"He's out for trouble to-night," said the little mate. "Blast him if he ain't touching the boose again."
"Who, the skipper?" I asked.
"He's been below twice during the watch, an' each time he's gettin' worse an' worse. There he comes now to the edge of the poop."
I looked and saw our old man rolling easily across the deck to the poop rail. There he stopped and bawled out loudly,—
"Lay aft to the main-brace."
The men on watch hesitated a moment and then came crowding aft and began to cast off the weather-brace from its belaying-pin.
It was so dark I couldn't see how many men were there, but I noticed Bill the quartermaster, and as I stood waiting to see what would happen, a little sailor by the name of Johnson, who had a face like a monkey's and legs set wide apart, so they never touched clear up to his waist, spoke out to a long, lean Yankee man who jostled me in the darkness.
"Don't pull a pound on the bleeding line. The old cock's drunk, an' we ain't here to be hazed around decks like a pack o' damned boys."
The skipper, however, didn't wait to see if his order was carried out, but came down from the poop and asked for Trunnell and myself. We went with him into the forward cabin, and he motioned us to sit down.
"Did you ever see such a lot o' confounded fools?" he said. "Here I calls for to take a pull in the main-brace, and the whole crowd of duff-eaters come layin' aft as if the skipper of a ship should blow them all off to drinks. Blast me, Trunnell, I'd 'a' thought you'd get them into better discipline. It's come to a fine state o' things when the whole crew turns to every time I get thirsty. But never mind, sing out as you says, and tell the steward what kind o' pisin you'll mix with your blood current. Mine's the same old thing."
"It's my watch below now," said Mr. Trunnell, "an' if you'll excuse me,I'll turn in. The third mate's gone below some time ago."
"Oh, the boat's all right. It's dead calm, and she can't hurt herself floating around this ocean," said the old man. "You can take a drink before you go. Steward! Ahoy there, steward!"
"Yessir," said that active mulatto, springing out of his cabin. "Yessir;I hears yo', cap'n."
"What'll you have?" asked Thompson, addressing the mate.
Trunnell scratched his big bushy head a moment, and then suggested that a bottle of the ginger pop which the steward had in the pantry would do for him.
"Hell'n blazes, man, take a drink o' something," cried Thompson, turning upon him with his fierce eyes. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothin', only I drinks what I drinks or else I don't drink at all," saidTrunnell. "Ye asked me what I'd have, an' I says it."
"All right, Shorty," said Thompson, in mock gravity. "You drinks what you drinks. What's yours, Rolling?"
"As I've just turned to, a little soda will do for me," I answered. "I'd rather take my grog in the morning at regular hours."
Thompson let his hand fall upon the table with a crash, and then sat motionless, looking from one to the other, his long, beak-like nose twitching convulsively.
"Steward," said he, with a nasal drawl which made his hooked nose wrinkle, "get Mr. Trunnell a drink o' ginger pop, or milk, if he prefers it, and then, steward, you may get Mr. Rolling a drink o' sody water. It's hot, but I reckon it'll fizz."
"Yessah. What's yourn, cap'n?"
"You don't think there's a priest aboard here, do you, steward, hey?"
"No, sah, 'tain't likely, but I ken find out, sah. Shall I get yo' drink fust, sah?"
"Well, I dunno, I dunno, steward; I can't think what I kin take what won't offend these gentlemen. You might see first if there's a priest, an' if you find one you can bring me a pint or so o' holy water. If it's too strong for you," said he, turning toward Trunnell and myself, "I can get the steward to dilute it for me, hey?"
Trunnell made no remark at this. The steward brought in our drinks and informed the skipper loudly that there was no one in the crew who had held holy orders.
"Never mind, then, steward," said Thompson. "I'll wait till it rains and get it fresh from heaven."
In a moment Trunnell rose and went into his room with a rough "good night." Thompson arose and passed through the door in the bulkhead, and I went on deck to take charge.
The night was quiet, and I leaned over the poop rail, looking into the water alongside, which appeared as black as ink. ThePiratehad little or no headway, for it was now dead calm. Forward at the bends a sudden flare of phosphorescent fire would burn for a moment alongside when the heavy ship rolled deeply and soused her channels under. The southerly swell seemed to roll quickly as if there were something behind it, and the topsails slatted fore and aft with loud flaps as they backed and filled with the motion. It was a bad night for wearing out gear, and I was glad Trunnell had rolled up the lighter canvas. Chafing gear had been scarce aboard, and nothing is so aggravating to a mate as to have his cotton or spars cut by useless rolling in a quiet seaway. If sails can be kept full of wind, they will last well enough with care; but let them slat for a few days, and there is more useless wear than would take place in a month of ordinary weather, with no headway to pay for it.
While I looked into the dark water I noticed a long thin streak of fire moving slowly alongside. It wavered and snaked along, growing brighter at times and then dying out almost completely. Suddenly it turned at the fore channels and came slowly aft. I looked harder at the black surface below me and tried to see what caused the disturbance. In an instant I beheld a huge shadow, blacker than the surrounding water, outlined faintly with the phosphorescent glow. It was between twenty and thirty feet in length, and had the form of a shark. The grim monster swam slowly aft and rounded the stern, then sank slowly out of sight into the blackness beneath.
There is something so uncanny in the silent watchfulness of these giants of the deep that a sailor always feels unpleasantly disposed toward them. I thought how ghastly would be the ending of any one who should get overboard that night. The sudden splash, the warm water about the body, and the heads of the fellows at the rail starting to pull the unfortunate aboard. Then the sudden grisly clutch from below, and the dragging down out of sight and sound forever.
I began to actually reckon the amount of arsenic I should put into a chunk of beef to trick the giant at his last meal.
"Sharp lightning on port bow, sir," came the news from the forward; for, although I was supposed to be able to see well enough, I had taught the men of my watch to sing out at everything unusual, more to be certain that they were awake than anything else.
I looked up from the black depths and my unpleasant reflections, and gazed to the southward. As I did so, several sharp flashes showed upon the dark horizon. It looked as if something were raising fast, and I stepped below a moment to see the glass. It was down to twenty-eight. Going on deck at once, I bawled for the watch to clew down the main-topgallantsail. In a moment the men were swarming up the main rigging, and the sail was let go by the run, the yard settling nicely, while the clews, buntlines, and leachlines were hauled down in unison.
"Mizzen topsail!" I cried.
The watch came up the poop ladders with a rush and tramping of feet that sounded ominously loud for the work on so quiet a night. The yelling of the men at the braces coupled with the tramping aroused Captain Thompson in spite of his liquor, and he came up the after-companion to see what was the matter.
"Hey, there, hey!" he bawled. "What are you doing, Rolling? Are you coming to an anchor already? Have I been asleep six months, and is this the Breakwater ahead? No? Well, do you expect to get to port without canvas on the ship? Split me, but I thought you knew how to sail a boat when you signed on as mate. Don't come any of these grandmother tricks on me, hey? I won't have it. Don't make a fool of yourself before these men. Get that topsail up again quicker'n hell can scorch a feather, or I'll be taking a hand, see! I'll be taking a hand. Jump lively, you dogs!" he roared, as he finished.
The topsail was swayed up again, the men silent and sullen with this extra work. Then came the order for the t'gallantsail, and by the time that was mastheaded, the skipper followed with orders for royals, fore and aft.
During the time these affairs were going on upon the ship, the southern horizon was lit up again and again by vivid flashes. It appeared to sink into a deeper gloom afterward, but in another moment we heard the distant boom of thunder. Before we could get the topgallantsail set there was a blinding flash off the bow-port, followed by a deep rolling peal of thunder. I was standing in the waist and sprang to Trunnell's room—
"All hands!" I bawled.
Then I rushed for the mizzen rigging, yelling for the men to clew down the t'gallantsail and let the topsail halyards go by the run. At the cry for all hands the men tumbled out, looking around to see what had happened. It was dead still, and the only sounds were the cries of the men on deck to those aloft, and the rattling of gear. Trunnell was on deck in a moment, and as he rushed aft I went for the main rigging with the intention of saving the upper topsail if I could. It was quick work getting up those ratlines, but even as I went I heard a deepening murmur from the southward. The yard came down by the run as I gained the top, owing to Trunnell having cast off everything, trusting that we might get some stops on the sail before too late. I heard the skipper roaring out orders to "hurry there," followed by curses at the slowness of the work. He appeared to realize now what was happening, and it sobered him.
As I crawled out to starboard with a couple of hands, Jackson of Trunnell's watch and Davis of mine, the murmur to the southward swelled rapidly in volume. I glanced into the blackness, and as I did so there was a blinding flash. My eyes seemed to be burned out with the brightness, and a crashing roar thundered in my ears. Instantly afterward I heard Trunnell's voice:—
"Hard up the wheel. Hard up, for God's sake!"
Then, with a rush that made the mast creak with the strain and laid us slowly over amid a thunder of thrashing canvas, the hurricane struck the ship.
There was nothing to do but hold on with both hands and feet. Jackson, who was outside of me, gripped the jackstay and threw his feet around the yard-arm which was springing and jumping away at a terrific rate with the shock of the cracking topsail. I did likewise, and noticed that the canvas was bellying forward, which showed that we were not aback. If we were, I knew our lives were only questions of seconds. All sounds from below were silenced in the roar about us, but flash after flash, following rapidly in succession, showed me momentary glimpses of the deck.
We were far over the water as thePiratewas laying down with her topgallant rail beneath the sea. The mizzen topsail had disappeared, as though made of vapor, leaving the mizzen clear. Forward, the two topsails and fore topmast staysail were holding, but between the flashes the upper canvas melted away like a puff of steam, the ragged ends flying and thrashing into long ribbons to leeward. Three men were on the yard when I looked at first, and then, almost instantly afterward, the yard was bare. Whether they had gone overboard I could not tell, but the thought made me look to myself while I might.
Pulling myself along the jackstay until I reached the bunt, I managed to grasp a line that was tailing taut downward toward the deck. This I grasped quickly with both hands, and bawling with all my might to Jackson and Davis to follow, I swung clear of the yard. Looking below, the sea appeared as white as milk in the ghastly light, with the ship's outline now dimly discernible in contrast. I breathed a prayer that the line was fast amidships and slid down. There was a terrific ripping instantly overhead, and I knew the topsail had gone. The line bowed out with the wind, but led toward the deck near the mast, and in a moment my feet struck the fife rail. I was safe for the present. Jackson followed close upon me, but Davis was unable to get the line. He was never seen again.
Making my way aft by the aid of the weather rail, I reached the poop and climbed up the steps. The wind nearly swept me from my feet, but I managed to crawl aft to where I could make out by the flashes the forms of Trunnell and the skipper.
"She'll go off soon," yelled the mate in my ear. "Nothin' gone forrads yet, hey?"
"Only the canvas and a couple of men," I yelled in reply.
The wind began to draw further and further aft, showing that the ship was gradually gathering headway in spite of her list to starboard. Soon she began to right herself in the storm-torn sea. All was white as snow about us, and the whiteness gave a ghastly light in the gloom. I could now make out the maintopsail, dimly, from where I stood, and the outline of the hull forward. Evidently the fore lower topsail was holding still. Jackson, who was tall and strong, and who was an American by adoption, was put to the lee wheel, as his knowledge of English made him quick to obey. John, a Swede, built very broad with stooping shoulders, and Erikson, a Norwegian with a great blond head and powerful neck, grasped the weather spokes. Bill, the other quartermaster, had not shown up, and we found later that he was one of the missing from the fore topsail yard.
Trunnell and Captain Thompson called the men aft to the poop, and away we went into the gloom ahead.
She was doing a good fifteen knots under her two, or rather one storm topsail; for we found out afterward that the fore had gone almost instantly after she had payed off. The water was roaring white astern, and the wind blew so hard that it was impossible to face it for more than a moment. The sea was making fast, and I began to wonder how long the vessel could run before the great heave which I knew must soon follow us.
Thompson stood bareheaded near the binnacle, and roared to the men to be careful and keep her steady. It was plain he knew nothing of seamanship, but could tell that a thing must be done well after the mate had given orders. He was apparently perfectly sober now, and as cool as though on the beach. It was evident the man feared nothing and could command. I saw that I could be of little use aft, so I started forward, hoping to be able to keep a lookout for a shift of wind and get some gear ready to heave the vessel to.
On reaching the main deck, things showed to be in a hopeless mess. Everything movable had gone to leeward when she was hove down, the running rigging was lying about, and no attempt had been made to coil it. The sea, which had been over the lee rail, had washed that on the starboard side into long tangles which would take hours to clear. I stumbled over a mass of rope which must have been the fore topsail brace. I saw a figure moving through the gloom along the bulwarks and called for the man to lay aft and coil down some of the gear. The man, however, paid no attention to me, but made his way into the forward cabin, and as the door opened and the light from within flashed out I recognized the third mate.
A man named Hans answered my hail, and I started forward again. The sea by this time was running rapidly. The ship was so deep that I knew she would not keep her deck clear, and I started to gain the topgallant forecastle where the height would make it safer.
Just as I gained the highest step, a tremendous sea following broke clear along the top of the rail in the waist, and went forward a good five feet above her bulwarks, the entire length of the main deck.
It was terrific. The thundering crash and smothering jar nearly paralyzed me for a moment. In the dim glare I could see rails, stanchions, boats, rigging, all in the furious white rush. ThePiratesettled under the load and seemed to stop perfectly still. Then another huge sea went roaring over her and blotted out everything to the edge of the forecastle head.
I stood looking down at the main deck in amazement. How long would the hatches stand that strain? Everything was out of sight under water, save the top of the forward house. I looked up into the roaring void above me and breathed a parting prayer, for it seemed that the ship's end must be at hand. Then I was aware that she was broaching to, and I grabbed the rail to meet the sea.
Every stitch of canvas had gone out of her now, and nothing but the bare yards were left aloft. How they ever stood the frightful strain was a miracle and spoke volumes for the Yankee riggers who fitted her out. The wind bore more and more abeam, and under the pressure she heeled over, letting the great load on her decks roar off in a torrent to leeward, over the topgallant rail and waterways. A sea struck her so heavily that the larger portion of it went thundering clear across her forty feet of deck, landing bodily to leeward as though the ship were below the surface. I could hear a bawling coming faintly from the poop and knew Trunnell was trying to heave her to. Something fluttered from the mizzen rigging and disappeared into the night. Part of a tarpaulin had gone, but it was a chance to get another piece large enough on the ratlines to hold her head up. I tried to make my way aft again to help, for I saw it was about our only hope, and started to crawl along the weather topgallant rail. Then a form sprang from the black recess under the forecastle head and seized me tightly around the body.
The suddenness of this attack and the peculiar position I was in when seized, put me at a disadvantage. The quick breathing of the man behind me, and the strong force he put forward as he rushed me toward the ship's side, made me aware that I was in a bad fix. The assassin was silent as the grave, save for his panting, but his bearded face against mine was visible enough to show me the former captain of the ship.
I was carried half over the rail in an instant by the power of the rush. The foam showed beneath me, and for a moment it seemed that the man would accomplish his deadly purpose. It was with a horrid feeling of certain death before me that I clutched wildly at the forecastle rail. Luckily my hand caught it, and I was saved from the dive over the side. Then with frantic strength I twisted around enough to seize the fellow, and dropped on my knees with a grip around his middle. It was up and down and all over that side of the forecastle head for some minutes, until we were both getting tired. We were apparently alone forward, and the fight would be one of endurance, unless the ruffian happened to have some weapon about him.
We struggled on and on in the gloom, with the hurricane roaring over us, carrying the spray and drift in a smothering storm into our faces. A hand would slip with a wet grip only to take a fresh hold again, and strain away to get the other under.
We rolled with the ship and after a particularly hard rally, in which I had my hand badly bitten, we eased up near the edge of the forecastle head. During this breathing spell I managed to get my foot braced against a ring-bolt. This gave me a slight advantage for a sudden push. In an instant I shoved with all my might, driving us both to the edge. The ruffian saw what was coming and tried to turn, but it was too late. One single instant of frantic fighting, half suspended in the air, and then over we went, myself on top.
We landed heavily upon the main deck, and the shock, falling even as I did upon the body under me, stunned me for several moments. My captain lay motionless. Then, when a sudden rush of cool water poured over us, I came to my senses and started to my feet. In another moment I had passed a line around the desperado, and was dragging him under the lee of the windlass, where I finally made him fast to the bitts.
When I started aft again, I found that Trunnell had managed to get a tarpaulin into the mizzen rigging, and by the aid of this bit of canvas thePiratehad at last headed the sea within five points. It now took her forward of the beam and hove her down to her bearings with each roll to leeward, the sea breaking heavily across the main deck, keeping the waterways waist deep with the white surge. In this rush objects showed darkly where they floated from their fastenings until they drifted to a water-port and passed on overboard.
I finally managed to dodge the seas enough to get aft alive, though one caught me under the lee of the fore rigging and nigh smothered me as it poured over the topgallant rail.
Trunnell stood near the break of the poop, and beside him were the skipper and third mate. I noticed a look of surprise come upon the young officer's face when I came close to them. It was much lighter now, and the actions of this young fellow interested me.
"I thought you might have been drowned," he cried, in his high female voice, but with a significant tone and look at the last word which was not lost on me in spite of the elements.
"Everything is all snug forward," I answered, bawling at the captain, but looking fairly at the third mate. "You can let a few men go and rivet irons on the convict by the windlass bitts. He seems to have little trouble unlocking these." And I held up the unlocked irons I had picked up under the forecastle.
As I held the irons under the third officer's nose, he drew back. Then he took them and flung them with an impatient gesture over the side into the sea. I thought I heard a fierce oath in a deep voice near by, but Trunnell and the captain were both staring up at the fringe flying from the maintopsail yard, and had evidently said nothing. There was little more to do now, for as long as the ship held her head to the sea, she would probably ride it out, unless some accident happened.
I was worn out with the exertion from handling canvas and my fracas forward, so after bawling out some of the details of the occurrence into Trunnell's ear, I took my watch below to get a rest. The men who preferred to stay aft clear of the water were allowed to lie down near the mizzen. Some took advantage of this permission, but for the most part they stood huddled in a group along the spanker boom, ready for a call.
I had made it a rule long ago, when I had first gone to sea, that I would never miss a watch below when my turn came if I could be spared with convenience. It is a question always with a sailor when he will be called to shorten sail for a blow, and the best thing he can do is to keep regular hours when he can, and stand by for a crisis when all hands are necessary. With a captain it might be different, for the entire responsibility rests upon him. He also does not have to stand watch, and consequently has no reason to be tired after several hours on deck. But with a sailor or mate who stands his four hours off and on, he must take care he is not pushed beyond his time, for the occasion will certainly come sooner or later when he will have to stand through several watches without a rest. Then, if he is already tired out, he will be useless.
I turned in with a strange feeling about the matter forward and the third officer's conduct. Although I knew Trunnell would take care that the ruffian would not get loose again that night during his watch, I took out a heavy revolver from my locker and stuck it under the pillow of my bunk. Then I saw that the door and port were fast before I jammed myself in for a rest.
I lay a long time thinking over the strange outfit on board, and the more I thought over the matter, the more I became convinced that the third officer had taken a hand in letting Andrews loose to try his hand on me again. There was something uncanny about this officer with a woman's voice, and I actually began to have a secret loathing not entirely unmixed with fear for him.
When I turned out for the morning watch, Trunnell met me in the alleyway. He looked wild and bushy from his exposure to the elements, his hair being in snarls and tangles from having a sou'wester jammed over his ears, and his great flat nose was red from the irritation of the water that struck and streamed over his bearded face. His whiskers gleamed with salt in the light of the lamp, and he spat with great satisfaction as he breathed the quiet air of the cabin.
"It's letting up, Rolling," he said; "there's a little light to the easterd now. Sink me, but we've a job bending gear. Everything gone out of her but her spars, and Lord knows how they stand it. How'd you come to get caught with all that canvas on her?"
"Look here, Trunnell," I answered, "you know I'm a sailor even if I'm not much else, and you know how that canvas came to be on her. I'm almost glad it's gone. I would be if it wasn't for the fact that we'll be longer than usual on this run, and I've about made up my mind that the quicker a decent man gets out of this ship, the better."
I was buttoning up my oilskins while I spoke, and Trunnell smiled a queer bit of a smile, which finally spread over his bearded face and crinkled up the corners of his little eyes into a network of lines and wrinkles. "I heard the outfly," said he, "and I was only joking ye about the canvas. It's a quare world. Ye wouldn't think it, but if ye want to see a true picture of responsibility a-restin' heavy like upon the digestion of a man, ye'll do well to take a good look at the old man a-standin' there on the poop. 'What for?' says you; 'God knows,' says me; but there he is, without a drop o' licker or nothin' in him since he heard ye bellow fer all hands."
"I should think he'd feel a little upset after the way he caught her," I answered; "he probably has the owners' interests a little at heart."
But Trunnell shook his head until the water flew around.
"Ye're off agin, me son. It ain't that at all. That man don't care a whoop for all the owners livin'. Not he. Sink me, Rolling, I got a big head, but nothin' much in it; in spite o' this, though, I knows a thing or two when I sees it. That man has some other object in bein' nervous about this here hooker besides owners. Don't ask me what it is, 'cause I don't know. But I knows what it ain't."
"The whole outfit is queer," I answered, "and the sooner I get out of her, the better satisfied I'll be. No decent sailor would ship in the craft if he could help it."
Trunnell gave me a queer look. Then he saw I meant no offence and shook his great head again.
"Did it ever occur to ye that ye had a duty to do in the world beside huntin' soft jobs?"
"Certainly not that of hunting hard ones," I answered, fastening my belt.
Trunnell's face underwent a change. He was serious and waited until I had strapped my sou'wester under my chin before saying anything.
"Mebbe I'm wrong, an' mebbe I ain't," he said. "But I believes a man has duties to stick to while he's on watch above water. One of these is not to turn tail and scud away, a-showin' your stern to every hard thing as comes along. No, sir, when ye runs into a hard gang like some o' these here aboard this hooker, stick to her, says me. If every man who's honest should turn his stern to a wessel that's got a bad name, what would happen to her? Why, any suckin' swab of a cabin boy kin tell that she'd get worse an' worse with the bad ones what would take your place. Ain't that reason? There's got to be some men to man a ship, an' if no honest ones will, then the owners can't do less than hire raskils. Ye can't sink a ship just because things have happened aboard her. Oh, Lord, no. Think a bit, Rolling, an' tell me if ye ain't blamed glad ye ware here, an' bein' here, ye must 'a' saved some poor devil of a sailor from getting killed this voyage?"
"I'm blamed sorry I ever—"
"Well, now, suppose'n I had a been ashore the day ye had the fracas on the main deck. Where'd ye been now, hey? A hunderd fathom deep, sure as Andrews is aboard this here ship, if I knows anything o' his ways, an' I've sailed two voyages with him afore. No, man; brace up and do yer dooty as ye may. If every good man was to stay out of bad ships, they'd get so the devil himself would be afeard to go to sea in them."
I smiled at the little fellow. Here was a man, who had the reputation of being but little better than an unhung pirate, preaching a most unselfish doctrine. We had been below for several minutes, and I could hear the captain's voice bawling out some order on the deck overhead. The bells were struck by the automatic clock in the cabin, and I turned to go.
"You're a good Christian, anyhow, Trunnell," I said as I started.
Trunnell gave a snort and threw his quid in a corner near a cuspidor. "I ain't never seen the inside of a church. I only tries to do the square thing to whoever is a-runnin' of the sea outfit—same as ye'll do if ye'll take the trouble to think a minit—"
I was out on the deck, and the wind almost blew me into the scuppers. The captain was standing right above me on the poop watching the growing light in the east. The waist was full of foamy water that roared and surged and washed everything movable about. Above, the masts and spars looked dark in the dim, gray light of the early morning, the strips of canvas stretching away from the jackstays and flicking dismally to leeward. All the yards, however, were trimmed nicely, showing Trunnell's master hand, and on the mainmast, bellying and straining with the pressure, was a new storm spencer, set snug and true, holding the plunging vessel up to the great rolling sea that came like a living hill from the southwest. Forward, a bit of a staysail was set as taut as a drumhead, looking no bigger than a good-sized handkerchief. Aft, a trysail, set on the spanker boom, helped the tarpaulin in the mizzen to bring her head to the sea.
I climbed up the poop ladder and took a look around.
It was a dismal sight. As far as the eye could reach through the white haze of the flying drift the ocean presented a dirty steel-gray color, torn into long, ragged streaks of white where the combers rolled on the high seas before the gale. Overhead all was a deep blank of gray vapor. The wind was not blowing nearly as hard as it had during my last watch on deck, but the sea was rolling heavier. It took thePiratefair on the port bow, and every now and again it rose so high above her topgallant rail that it showed green light through the mass that would crash over to the deck and go roaring white to leeward, making the main deck uninhabitable. Sometimes a heavy, quick comber would strike her on the bluff of the bow, and the shock would almost knock the men off their feet. Then the burst of water would shoot high in the air, going sometimes clear to the topgallant yard, nearly a hundred feet above the deck, while all forward would disappear in the flying spray and spume.
"Fine weather, Rolling, hey?" bawled the skipper to me as I gained the poop.
"Oh, it isn't so bad the way she's taking it now. If she hangs on as well as this during the watch, she'll make good weather of it all right," I said.
"I'm glad you think so, my son. Just call down to the steward to bring me a bracer. Whew, just look at that!"
As he spoke a huge sea rose on the weather bow and bore down on the staggering ship. It struck her fair and rolled over her so heavily that I had to grab a line to keep from being knocked down. The main deck was full of water, and as it roared off through the ports and over the lee rail, I looked to see if anything had gone with it. Then I realized how well we had been washed during the night.
From the forecastle aft to the poop there was nothing left except the hatches and deck-house. The boats were all stove to matchwood except one that was lashed on the forward house. The bulwarks were smashed for many feet along both sides, but this was no real damage, as it allowed the sea to run off easier, relieving the deck of the heavy load. The whole main deck, fore and aft, was as clean stripped as could be, and the hatches alone were saving us from filling and going under.
It was a dismal sight, and the men who stood huddled on the forecastle and poop looked, in their yellow oilskins, like so many yellow ghosts. I went aft to the wheel and found that Hans and Johnson were steering without much difficulty, although they had all they could do to hold her when a sea struck aft. Far astern the light seemed to be growing brighter, and while I looked there appeared some long streaks in the heavy banks of vapor which showed a break or two. I took the glass which hung on the side of the grating and cleaned the lens with my hand. Sweeping the storm-torn horizon to the southward, nothing showed but rolling seas and haze. I turned the glass to the northward, and in a moment I saw a black speck rise and then disappear from the line of vision.
"Vessel to lor'ard, sir," I bawled to the captain.
"I don't care for forty vessels, Rolling. Get me that steward with the liquor, or there'll be one afloat here without a second mate."
It was with no good feeling that I went below to get the old man a drink.The steward met me and grinned as he brought forth the liquor.
"Yessah, it's nine ob dem he takes endurin' de watch. Lord, man, he's got something pow'rful on his mind. Did yo' ebber feel the heft ob his trunk he brought aboard, sah? No, sah, dat yo' didn't. Well, it's pow'rful heavy fo' a man's baggage."
"What's in it?" I asked.
"'Deed, I doan know, man, jest what is in it, but I reckon it's something what worries him. Dat an' Cap'n Andrews forrads worries him some. Chips, he say as dey goes aft an' have matters straightened out a bit. Dey is fo' either weldin' irons on de cap'n forrads or puttin' him on de beach. Jim, Hans, Bendin, an' Frenchy an' a lot more are fo' doing' somethin' with him. Yessah, dey is dat. Hab a leetle nip 'fore yo' goes?"
I took one and went back to the quarter-deck. The speck to leeward showed a bit of storm canvas flying, and we soon could make out she was a large ship hove to like ourselves on the port tack. Her hull showed now and again on the seas, and after drifting down toward her for about an hour, the light grew strong enough to make her out plainly. She was a large ship, English built, with a turtle-backed stern, painted white on the tumble-home of the quarter. Her hull was black, and the foam showed in long white lines of streamers as it was blown across her topsides. She was making heavy weather of it, and every now and again she would ram her nose clear out of sight in the high-rolling sea. Then she would rise heavily, with the white water pouring from her dripping forefoot and wallow dismally, until her weather rail would appear to roll under.
The stump of a foremast showed forward and a stout maintopsail strained away amidships, while aft, where the mizzen should have been, there was nothing showing above her deck. Her main topgallant mast was also gone at the cross-trees, but the maintopsail held strongly. Altogether she was pretty well wrecked aloft.
While we watched her we drew nearer, and when she came within a couple of miles I could make out a flag, the English ensign, union down, in the main rigging. This showed pretty plainly that she was doing badly and wanted help, but it was absolutely useless to think of doing anything for her while the wind held and the sea showed no signs of going down.
Being much lighter than she was, we drifted off more, and we came nearer and nearer as the morning brightened into a dirty day. In a short time we had her close under our lee, not half a mile distant. Indeed, it looked as though we might get closer than we wished to. The wind slacked gradually, however, and before long we managed to get out our main-topmast staysail. Then followed a close-reefed foresail balanced aft by the mizzen lower topsail, which we had saved. This, with the spencer and canvas already set, gave us a good hold of the ship in spite of the sea, and we were ready to wear if necessary. ThePiratedrifted much faster under the extra canvas and went to leeward so far that we saw that she would go clear of the stranger. As we drew near, we now saw how deep she sat in the water, the seas rolling over her, amidships, with every plunge. Still she headed up well and was under control.
While we gazed, a string of flags fluttered from her yard-arm. I dived below for the code and soon read the signal for help. They were sinking.
Trunnell turned out on deck, and we waited to see if Captain Thompson would give the word to do anything. He stood near the rail and gazed through his glass without saying anything or exhibiting any concern whatever for the people we could now see upon the stranger's high poop.
Then he turned to the mate and asked:—
"What does he want, Trunnell?"
"Want's us to stand by him, I reckon," the mate replied.
"Can we do it without danger in this seaway, hey?" demanded Thompson. "Answer me that. How the devil can we do anything for a fellow in this seaway, when we might be rammed by him and sink ourselves?"
"We'll stand by that ship as long as she's above water," answeredTrunnell, quietly.
Then came a sudden change upon the captain. He turned upon the mate quickly, and his bright, glinting eyes seemed to grow to sharp points on either side of his hooked nose, which worked and twitched under the excitement. His hand went behind his back and he jerked forth a long revolver.
"Who's captain of this here boat, Mr. Trunnell, me or you?" said he, in his drawling voice.
"You," answered Trunnell, decisively.
"Do you presume to give any orders here what don't agree with mine?"
"No, sir," said Trunnell.
"Well, just let me hint to you, you bushy-headed little brute, that I don't want any suggestions from my mates, see? You little snipe, you! what d'ye mean, anyhow, by saying what we'll do?"
Several men standing on the poop to keep clear of the seas in the waist, hitched their trousers a little, and felt for the sheath knives in their belts. I noticed Jim, the young landsman, pass his hand behind him and stand waiting. There was an ominous silence and watchfulness among the crew which was not lost on the captain. He had inspired no respect in their minds as a sailor, even though he had shown himself fearless. It was evident that they were with Trunnell.
"I meant that we would stand by that ship as long as she floated," said the little mate, looking straight into the pistol barrel, "and I expected that it would be by your orders, sir."
Thompson was not a fool. He saw in an instant how the case was, and his glinting eyes took in the whole outfit of men and mates at one glance. He may not have wished to help the strangers, but he saw that not to do so meant more trouble to himself than if he did.
"This time you expected just right, Trunnell. I mean to stand by those people, and I order you to get ropes ready to hoist out the boat we have on the house, there. What I don't want and won't have is orders suggested by any one aboard here but me. I'm glad you didn't mean to do that, for I'd hate to kill you. You can get the boat ready."
Then he put the revolver back into his pocket, and Trunnell went forward along the shelter of the weather bulwarks and made ready the tackles for hoisting the boat out.
By the aid of the powerful glass I made out a figure of a woman standing upon the ship's poop. She appeared to be watching us intently. Soon a little sailorly and seaman-like fellow named Ford, whose interest in the strange ship was marked, came from the group near the mizzen and asked if he should get the signal halyards ready. Thompson made no objection, and we bent on the flags which told by the code that we would stand by them until the sea went down enough to get out a small boat.
At seven bells the "doctor" managed to get some fire started in the galley, and all hands had a drink of hot coffee. This was cheering, and Trunnell soon had the watch hard at work getting out new canvas from the lazaretto aft. The main deck was getting safer, and although she took the sea heavily now and then, she was no longer like a half-tide rock in a strong current.
Topsails were hoisted out from below and gantlines bent. By the time all hands had eaten something and eight bells had struck, we were ready to get up new topsails and start the pumps.
Luckily there was little water below. In spite of the tremendous straining the ship had made no more than could be expected, and in a little over an hour at the brakes we had the satisfaction of having the pumps suck.
All that morning we worked aloft getting new gear up. The British ship drew away on our weather beam, wallowing horribly in the seaway. The wind died away gradually into a good stiff gale, and by noon we had a break or two above us that let down the sunlight. This cheered all hands. A good meal with extra coffee was served forward, and I sat down to the cabin table with Chips and the steward, to eat ravenously of prime junk and preserved potatoes.
"'Tis a quare time ye had ag'in last night, forrads, hey?" said Chips.
"It was interesting for a few minutes," I answered. "I hope you fixed the fellow's irons all right. Keys seem to have strange ways aboard this vessel."
"Well, ye needn't be afear'd av th' raskil takin' leave ag'in. Sure, an' I riveted his irons this time, as will take a file an' no less to cut through. I votes we get th' old man to put him aboard th' first ship what comes a-heavin' down nigh enough, hey?"
"It would suit me all right," I answered.
"Jim and Long Tom an' Hans an' a whole lot av us have th' matter in mind, an' we'll speak wid th' skipper afore long. There's a divil's mess below in th' fore-peak, where a barrel has bruk loose that I'll have to mix wid first. Be ye a-goin' in th' boat aboard th' stranger whin th' sea goes down?"
"I suppose so," I said; "that lot generally falls to a second mate."
"Be sure, thin, ye have th' plug in all right an' th' oars sound, fer th' sea will be heavy fer a bad craft, and ye mind th' irons last night."
"I'll just take a look at them before I start. Chips," I said. "Thank you for keeping tabs on the skipper."
"It's no great matter," he answered; and then we fell to with a will until the meal was finished.
At three bells in the afternoon the sea had begun to go down enough to allow us to get our new topsails on her and a main-topgallantsail. ThePiratewent smoking through it under the pressure, trembling with each surge, and throwing a perfect storm of water over her catheads. The English ship was now a mere speck to windward, almost hull down, and we would have to beat up to her if we could.
Just how badly she needed help we of course could not tell. If she were sinking fast, then she would have to depend upon her own boats, for the sea was too heavy until late in the afternoon to venture out in our only one left. We could no longer see her signals, but carried all the sail possible, without danger of carrying away our spars, in the effort to get close to her again.
After standing along for an hour or more we wore ship, and found that we could just about get within hailing distance to leeward.
Trunnell had the reef tackles rigged from the main yard, and the life-boat was slung clear of the lee rail. Then, watching a chance, she was let go with Hans and Johnson in her to keep her clear and dropped back to the mizzen channels, where the volunteers were ready to get aboard her.
Four men besides myself manned her, and she was instantly let go to keep her clear of the sea, which hove her first high on thePirate'squarter, and then down until our faces were below the copper on her bends. By dint of quick work we shoved her clear, and started on the pull, dead to windward.
How small thePiratelooked when we were but a few fathoms distant in that sea! Our boat rode the waves nicely without shipping much water, and several times I turned to look back at the ship, where Trunnell stood beside the skipper, watching us through the glasses, and waiting to pick us up on our return. I could see the "doctor's" face above the topgallant rail forward and that of Chips in the waist.
It was a long pull. The sea was running high and the wind was still blowing a half gale, breaking up the heavy oily clouds into long banks between which the sun shone at intervals. It was a good half hour's work before we could cover the short distance between the ships.
We came slowly up under her lee quarter, and when we were quite close I could see that she was indeed very deep, if not actually sinking. The words "Royal Sovereign, Liverpool," were painted in gold letters on her stern, and on the circular buoys hanging upon her quarter-rail was the same name in black. A group of men stood near the mizzen rigging, and one short man with a black sou'wester and blue pilot coat hailed us through a large-mouthed trumpet, which almost hid his bearded face.
"Boat ahoy! can you come aboard?" he roared.
"We'll try to come alongside," I bawled. "Stand by to heave a line."
A man had one ready and hove it well out with a yell to catch. Long Tom, our lean Yankee sailor, who was pulling bow oar, seized it as it fell across and took a turn around a thwart. The oars were shipped and we fell under the vessel's stern, riding the seas without mishap.
"We're sinking," cried the short man, who was the captain. "Can you take some of us with you?"
"Aye, aye; get them aboard here as quick as you can," came the answer.
There was no time lost now. Men swarmed toward the taffrail, and for an instant it looked as if there would be something of a panic. The short skipper, however, flung them aside without ceremony, and the next instant a female figure appeared at the rail.
"Haul easy," came the order. Hans and Tom pulled in the line slowly until the boat's bow was leading almost directly beneath the ship's stern. A bridle was rigged from the spanker boom and made fast to a life buoy. Then the lady who had appeared at the taffrail was slung in it rather uncomfortably and carefully lowered away. She was seized by one of the men forward, and handed aft to me.
The woman was quite young. She was slightly built, and I supported her easily until she was safely in the stern sheets. A few strands of curly blond hair blew across my face, and gave me a most peculiar feeling as I brushed them aside. Then she turned up her face, and I saw that she had most beautiful eyes, soft and gentle, with a trusting look, such as one sees in children.
"Thank you, Mr. Sailorman," she said, with a smile. "I'm all right now."
"Except, perhaps, for a little wetting, you will stay so, I hope,"I answered.
A heavy woman was being lowered away, and Hans caught her boldly around the body, trying to keep her from being thrown out of the tossing small boat. She shrieked dismally.
"Don't be silly, mamma," cried the young lady aft. "You've been squeezed tighter than that before, I am sure."
She was passed aft and took her place beside her daughter in the stern, expostulating incoherently at the younger one's insinuations.
Then followed a little man, short and stout, who was evidently the ship's carpenter, and he was followed by a dozen sailors.
"Haven't you any boats that will swim?" I asked of the mate, who hung over the rail above me.
"We're getting them out now," he answered.
"Then let us go. We've got a big enough load already."
In a few moments we were on our way back to thePirate, making good headway before the wind and sea, and shipping little water.
The men explained as we went along that theSovereignhad started a butt during the gale, and she was full of water by this time. They had kept at the pumps all day, but had given it up when they saw we were coming for them. The ship's cargo of oil and light woods from the peninsula had kept her from going to the bottom. She was homeward bound to Liverpool, and it was the captain's wife and daughter we were bringing aboard. The hurricane had caught them aback and dismasted them during the night, and after six hours of plunging helplessly into the sea without anything but the mainmast and stump of the foremast above the deck, she had sprung a leak and filled rapidly. The maintopsail they had bent in the morning after extraordinary exertion, and with this they had managed to keep her partly under control.
"She will never go to the bottom with all the soft wood she has in her," said a sailor who was old and grizzled and had the bearing of a man-of-war's man. "She can't sink for months. The water is up to her lower deck already."
"So that's the reason you were not getting your boats out in a hurry?" I asked.
"Sure," said he; "I'd as soon stay in her a bit longer as in many a bleedin' craft that you sees a-goin' in this trade."
"I noticed you were one of the first to leave her," said the young girl, with some spirit.
"Ah, mum, when you gets along in life like me, hardships is not good for the constitootion. A sailorman, 'e gets enough o' them without huntin' any more. Howsumever, if I see any chance o' gettin' the bleedin' craft in port 'way out here in this Hindian Ocean, I'd be the last to leave. Bust me, mum, if that ain't the whole truth, an' a little more besides. You ask your pa."
Here he gave a sigh, and drew his hand across his forehead as if in pain. His large pop eyes blinked sadly for a few moments, and his mouth dropped down at the corners. Then his mahogany-colored face became fixed and his gaze was upon the craft he had just deserted. What was in the old fellow's mind? I really felt sorry for him, as he sat there gazing sadly after his deserted home. Captain Sackett would stay aboard until the last, his wife informed us, but as there was no necessity of any one staying now, if their boats could live in the sea that was still running, it was probable that they would all be aboard us before night. Jenks, the old sailor, gave it as his opinion that they would have the boats out in half an hour.
We came up under the lee of thePirateand then began the job of getting our passengers aboard her.
Trunnell passed a line over the main-brace bumpkin, and held the tossing craft away from the ship's side until a bridle could be bent and the ladies hoisted aboard.
Mrs. Sackett trembled violently and begged that she would not be killed, much to her daughter's amusement. Finally she was landed on deck, where she was greeted by the third mate and escorted aft. Miss Sackett was of different stuff. She insisted that she could grab the mizzen channel plates and climb aboard. I begged her to desist and be hoisted on deck properly, but she gave me such a look that I held back and refrained from passing the line about her. As the boat lifted on a sea she made a spring for the channel. Her hand caught it all right, but her foot slipped, and as the boat sank into the hollow trough she was left hanging.
Trunnell instantly sprang over the side, and letting himself down upon the channel, seized her hand and lifted her easily to a footing. The ship rolled down until they were knee deep in the sea, but the little mate held tight, and then, with one hand above his head, as she rose again, he lifted his burden easily to the grasp of Jim, who reached over the side for her.
After she was landed safely the men crowded up the best way they could, and the boat was dropped astern with a long painter to keep her clear of the ship's side.
Captain Thompson greeted his female passengers awkwardly. He declared in a drawling tone that he was 'most glad that their boat was wrecked, inasmuch as it had given him the opportunity to meet the finest ladies he had ever set eyes on.
"May the devil grasp me in his holy embrace, madam," said he, "if I am lying when I says that word. It is my most pious thought, says I."
Mrs. Sackett was somewhat taken aback at this candor, but managed to keep her feelings well hidden. Her daughter came to the rescue. "We appreciate your noble efforts, Captain Thompson. The fact is, we have heard so much about your gallantry in saving life at sea that we are sure anything we could say would sound weak in comparison to what you must already have heard. If you have a spare stateroom, we would be very thankful if we might have it for a time, as our clothes are quite wet from the sea."
The skipper was somewhat surprised at the young girl's answer, but he hid his confusion by bawling for the steward.
When the mulatto came, he gave numerous orders in regard to bunks, linen, drying of clothes, etc., regretting over and over again that he was a single man, and consequently had no wife from whom he could borrow wearing apparel while that of his guests was drying.
The third mate, also, took pains to be very civil to them, and his soft voice could be heard in conversation with Miss Sackett long after they had gone below.
I went forward and interviewed the men we had rescued, afterward getting the "doctor" to serve them something hot, as their galley fire had been out many hours and they had been eating nothing but ship's bread.
ThePiratewaited all the afternoon with her canvas shortened down to her lower topsails to keep her from forging ahead too fast. But even when it grew dark and the British ship could no longer be clearly made out, her skipper had not gotten out his boats. It was evident that he would try to save her if possible, and now that his family were safe he cared little for the risk. Captain Thompson still held thePiratehove to under easy canvas, drifting slowly with the wind, which was now no more than a moderate breeze. The sea, also, was going down fast, and the sky was showing well between the long lines of greasy-looking clouds which appeared to sail slowly away to the northeast. The night fell with every prospect of good weather coming on the following day.
I went on deck in the dog-watch and took a look around. TheSovereignwas a mere blur on the horizon, but her lights shone clearly.
"We'll stand by her all night," said Trunnell, "and then if the skipper doesn't care to leave her,—which he will, however,—we'll stand away again."
There was little to do, so the watch lounged around the deck and rested from the exertion of the past twenty-four hours. Chips told me I had better come forward after supper and take a smoke in his room, for they were going to come to some conclusion about the fellow Andrews. There had been some talk of putting him aboard the English ship, and if we could get the captain to agree to it, it would be done.
I loafed around until I saw a light between the crack of his door and the bulkhead. Then I slid it back, and entered.
The stuffy little box was full of men. The bos'n, a large man named Spurgen, who had quite a swagger for a merchant sailor, was holding forth to the quartermaster, Hans, on nautical operations.
"An' how'd ye do if ye had an anchor atween, decks widout nothin' to hoist it out wid?" he was saying as I came in.
Hans affirmed, with many oaths, that he'd let the "bloody hancor go bloomin' well to the bottom before he'd fool wid it." This made the bos'n angry, and he opened with a fierce harangue, accompanied by a description of the necessary manoeuvres. He also made some remarks relating to the quartermaster's knowledge of things nautical.
I took occasion to look about the little room while this was going on and my fingers warmed up some. I then seated myself on a corner of the chest near Chips to make myself easy, during which time the bos'n had gained sufficient ground to enforce silence upon his adversary, and relinquish the subject of anchors. Then came a pause during which I could distinguish the "doctor's" voice above the mutterings, and get a whiff of my own tobacco out of the haze.
"—five fat roaches; they'll cure you every time," he was saying to Chips. "It's old man Green's sure remedy, sah, yes, sah. I hearn him tole his ole mate, Mr. Gantline, when he sailed in the West Coast trade."
"Faith, ye may stave me, shipmate, but that would be an all-fired tough dish to swallow," the carpenter declared, with a wry face. "Supposen they didn't die? They would make a most eternal disagreeable cargo shiftin' about amongst your ribs. May the devil grab me, ye moke, if I wouldn't rather swell up an' bust wid th' scurvy than swallow them fellows kickin'."
"Bile 'em, white man," said the cook. "Bile 'em in er pint er water—an' then fling 'em overboard. Who the debble would eat er roach?"
"Right ye are, shipmate," assented Chips; "'tis an aisy enough dose to take if all ye do is to throw th' critters to lor'ard. Sink me, though, if I sees th' benefit av a medicine ye fling to David Jones instead av placin' it to th' credit av yer own innerds."
"Yah, yah, Mr. Chips, but you beats me. Yes, sah, you beats me, but yer haid is thick. Yes, sah, yer haid is thick ernuff, yah, yah," laughed the "doctor." "What would yer do but drink the water, white man? yes, sah, drink the water for the acid in the critter. It's salt in yer blood makes scurvy, from libbin' so long er eatin' nuffin' but salt junk. Lime juice is good, ef the ole man gives it to yer straight, but he nebber does. No, sah, dat he nebber do. It's too expensive. Anyways, it doan' hab no strength like er roach, ner no sech freshness, which am de main pint after all."
Seeing himself out of the talk, and having completely growled down the quartermaster, the bos'n started another subject. This was a tirade against bad skippers and crimps who stood in too thick with the shipping commissioners, and whom he swore were in league with each other and the devil. He was an old sailor, and his seamed face was expressive when launching into a favorite subject. Here was Jim's chance, and he spoke out. "Whatever became of Jameson, what was took off by Andrews?" he asked Chipps.
"Was he doped?" I asked.
"Didn't ye niver hear tell from O'Toole an' Garnett? They was Andrews's mates for a spell, until th' Irishman, God bless him, knocked him overboards an' nearly killed him in a scuffle on th' India Docks."
"Cast loose; I want to hear," said the bos'n.
There was a moment's silence, and Chips looked at me as though questioning the senior officer of his watch. Then he fixed himself comfortably on the chest by jamming himself against the bulkhead, locking his hands about his knees, blowing smoke in a thick cloud.
I heard the hail of Trunnell from the bridge during this pause, asking about a t'gallant leach-line. Thinking it well to take a look out, I did so to see if the men obeyed his orders, and found them rather slow slacking the line. This made it necessary for me to take a hand in matters and instil a little discipline among them, which kept me on deck for some minutes.