“The mate, he got drunk and went below—He broke the long-necked bottle, oh—oh—oh—oh—So early in the morning—so early in the morning,The sailor loves his whiskey,—oh—oh, boy—oh.”
“The mate, he got drunk and went below—He broke the long-necked bottle, oh—oh—oh—oh—So early in the morning—so early in the morning,The sailor loves his whiskey,—oh—oh, boy—oh.”
“The mate, he got drunk and went below—He broke the long-necked bottle, oh—oh—oh—oh—So early in the morning—so early in the morning,The sailor loves his whiskey,—oh—oh, boy—oh.”
Or they will swing into “Blow a Man Down,” that song which may be shifted to any old tune to suit the occasion.
In theArrowit was my duty, as mate, to see that things went well forward, and I went through the men’s outfits pretty thoroughly. I always hated to find that a dago had a hidden knife of a dangerous length when I expected him to do some uncongenial work which might call for sudden suasion on an officer’s part.
A big Swede met me at the forecastle door, and grinned at me as I entered. “I tank youse’ll find us a good crew, Mr. Gore. Aye tank youse a good mate, sir,” said he.
“You mustn’t tank, Yohn,” I answered. “I’ll do the thinking for you. Let me take a look into your chest.”
His face fell, but he knew better than to refuse, so I opened it for him and disclosed two bottles of liquor and a heavy pistol, of all of which I carefully relieved him. The rest of the dunnage proved almost barren of spoil, and after giving the room a careful survey, I went out again. The smell of the fresh, salt sea was now in my nostrils and the gloomy life of the shore left behind. Ahead was the excitement and hope of a prosperousvoyage in company of whom I began to suspect would prove pleasant passengers. The smells of the rigging, the tar, grease, and even the bilge as it was stirred up and came through the opening in the forward hatchway, recalled me to the life as of old, and the melancholy thoughts I had recently indulged in gave place to the most exhilarating ones.
“Sing, Dutchy,” I cried to a squat sailor, who was hauling doggedly upon a royal brace.
“I don’t got no tune, den, what?” said he, grinning.
“Aye tank I kin sing him,” said a Norwegian sailor, tailing on the line just ahead of him.
“Turn him loose, then,” I cried.
“Sing ye, Jezebel, sing,” cried O’Toole, coming up panting with the exertion of trying to break a topsail brace. “Sing, an’ stretch th’ line,” and he led off with “Whiskey Johnnie,” into which the rest roared a chorus.
Four men grabbed the mainskysail halyardand sent the light yard whisking up the masthead. The fellow who had loosed the sail had not left the yard and was sent aloft along with it, the men below trying to send him skyward with a rush.
Suddenly the halyard broke. The man on the yard gave a spring as it dropped under him. He shot outward, fell headlong downward, and just as we thought he would plunge headlong to the deck, a hundred feet below, he reached the backstay with one hand. With a power born of desperation, he grasped the line. His body swung around with the sweep of a whip-lash, but he hung on. Then his other hand reached the stay, and he slid quickly to the crosstrees. Down the ratlines he came on the run. Reaching the lanyard, he sprang upon the deck and dashed into the crowd of men who still stood gazing spellbound at his performance.
“Vat you do, hein? Vill you kill me, den?” he screamed, and he lashed out with a right good-will, knocking two of the men down.
I saw O’Toole grinning, and as I was themate, it was not my place to see too much. The big Irishman would take care of the fracas when the time came to interfere. I made my way around the deck-house out of sight, and sent a man after a new halyard.
The moke in the galley was hard at it in an argument with the steward. I saw and heard nothing. The work forward had been started, and all was well.
I wentaft on the quarter-deck where Captain Crojack stood eying the towering cloud of snowy canvas, from the foot of the mainsail to the skysail yards.
“By gorry, Mr. Gore,” said he, “we’ve got a good start, and if the wind holds we’ll make a good offing during the night. I suppose you’ve met my passengers before?” and he motioned toward Miss Waters and her mother who stood near the companionway. They were apparently admiring everything about the ship except her sudden lurches, which caused them to make sundry clutches for support.
I bowed and spoke to them, but the young girl was so absorbed in the new scene before her that she said little except that it was “perfectly lovely,” while the mother began to show signs of paleness coupled with a nervous catching of the breath at each roll of the ship.
“She’s got a good lively feel to her, don’t you think?” went on the skipper, referring to his vessel. “The only thing that worried me was the stowing of all that marble and stuff amidships, and so much iron in her ends.”
As he spoke, the ship gave a jerk and tremble, throwing the sea from her weather-bow in a smother and going through it like a half-tide rock in a strong current.
There was no earthly use of disagreeing with him, so I said nothing, knowing full well he had overloaded his vessel by three or four hundred tons in order to make the extra freight money.
In a short time Mr. Brown came aft and, after greeting the passengers, told me that the second mate wished to see me, as he had mustered the crew on the deck in the waist.
I left the quarter with the skipper in charge, and went forward to where O’Toole had all hands lined up to divide into watches.
“Ha!” he cried, “Mr. Gore, but we’ve got some foine burds t’ choose from this voyage.By th’ sowl av St. Patrick, I niver seen sich a set o’ mugs nayther before nor since. Which wan will ye choose for the first man? How would that mollyhawk-looking Scandinavian suit yer eye, ey?”
“None of your land-shark tricks on me. I know a man as well as you,” I replied, sharply, but he caught the expression of my eye and he showed his teeth in a broad grin. He had a great, freckled, hairless face, this O’Toole.
So saying, I picked out a stout, heavy-shouldered young German, who was the most active and intelligent-looking man in the crowd.
O’Toole followed by picking out a powerful young Swede, and I then motioned for a dago to join me. We kept it up until I had eleven and he twelve men, for, as I had the third mate, it was better that the loss of our deserter should fall on my watch.
The carpenter, cook, and Chinese steward made up the rest of the ship’s company.
After making a short address to the men and giving all hands a glass of grog, I dismissedthem and told off my watch, the port, for the first after eight bells that evening.
O’Toole, however, called his men into the starboard gangway and addressed them according to his own ideas of what became a second officer.
“Now I jist want to hint to ye, so t’ spake,” he began, “that fer a set av windjammers, ye air a bloomin’, ill-favoured lot o’ sons o’ Belial. But all ye’ve got t’ do is t’ jump whin I gives the whurd or I’ll knock the divil and damnation thunder out o’ ye quicker ’n old Nick can scorch a feather, d’ye see?
“I don’t want no foolin’ nor shirkin’, an’ mum’s the whurd. Ef ye can’t understand English, yer got yerselves into a mighty unhealthy ship, fer I only spake ter onct. Ef yer do yer duty, I’ll be as tinder an’ aisy with ye as yer swatehearts, but ef ye don’t, by the howly, jumping Jezebel, I’ll bear down on yer, an’ thin stand from under.”
Then, cursing them individually and collectively, he sent them forward and retired to his own room in the side of the forward cabin.
On going aft again I found the skipper explaining some nautical matters to Mr. Brown in such a contemptuous tone that it was evident the old man didn’t believe in young men starting out as sailors with access to the quarter-deck.
However, the third mate kept his temper, and showed by his answers that he was by no means ignorant of the theoretical knowledge of navigation, whatever he might lack in a practical sense. He replied so intelligently to some of the skipper’s questions that I almost believed that he had been to sea before, and I was quite pleased with him.
As I now had a chance to observe him closely in his sailor’s togs, I could see that he was a well-made man and would prove useful with a little guidance from an older hand. His clear gray eyes looked straight into mine when I addressed him, and his small, though firm, chin gave him an air of honesty that was ill coupled with what I had overheard of him.
I had handled a great many men and had long ago come to the conclusion that I couldjudge a man’s capabilities as well as any one, so that neither denunciation nor praise of a person’s character affected my judgment. Not that I am entirely impervious to prejudice, for, being nothing but a rough and not over-intelligent sailor, I can hardly claim such perfection. Still, I allow it to affect me as little as any human being can.
While we stood the first watch that evening, I had the opportunity to judge the sociable side of the young man’s nature, for we talked nearly the whole four hours, while the ship ran along steadily to the eastward.
Neither Miss Waters nor her mother appeared on deck, and from certain sounds that issued from the cabin window, it appeared evident that they were not at present interested in nautical scenery. The skipper came up from below several times to see how we were heading and to look at the patent log, which trailed taut from the taffrail. He finally turned in, after muttering something about the glass having fallen a little.
“Isn’t she loaded very deep, Mr. Gore?” asked Brown, when we were alone.
“Deep as a sand barge,” I answered, “and she will be about as wet as one in a seaway.”
“That’s what I thought when they inspected her, but the surveyor said that as he was not going out in her, Captain Crojack would be the one to suffer. Somehow it seems to me that the fellows on the main-deck will be the ones who will suffer the most.”
In this I quite agreed with him, and, having once established this confidence between us, we became friends henceforth. I have often thought since, after all we went through together, how much trifles affect the forming of friendships. Here the treating of an honest opinion with respect, instead of trying to appear blind to error, won the confidence of a man whose influence saved me from ruin.
As midnight drew near I sent him to call the second mate, and I stood near the mizzen waiting for the bells to strike.
Suddenly I heard a deep growling of oaths and sounds of a slight scuffle in the second officer’s cabin. “Och! Ye spalpeen, I’ll break every bone in your skin. What d’yemane by waking an honest man in th’ middle av his watch below—ah, well, I beg yer pardon, Mr. Brown; but why didn’t ye make yersilf known first? By th’ sowl av th’ saints, if that boot had struck ye betwixt wind an’ wather ye would have become a cripple fer th’ space av a year.”
“Confound you for a red-headed fool!” returned Brown, angrily. “If you are going to kill a man every time he turns you out, I’ll come next time with a handspike to—”
“What, ye mutinous young devil!” roared O’Toole; “what d’ye mane? Well, well, never moind; perhaps I was a little hasty. Ye see, I thought ye ware one av thim dagos, an’ I niver allow ayther dago or Dutchman ter lay his hand on the Lord’s anointed, which, if ye plaise, is no other than mesilf. Ye say eight bells have struck? All right. Ye can tell yer chum, Mr. Gore, that I’ll relave him av his onerous duties in about three shakes av a sheet rope.”
As he said this the door banged and Brown came on deck.
“That red-headed beast threw his boot atme when I tried to wake him,” he said, “and the next time I turn him out I’ll be on the lookout for him.”
I told him not to mind the second mate’s peculiarities, as he was a good sailor, and that after he knew him he would probably like him better. That, in fact, very few people were charmed with O’Toole’s manner, but most men got along with him well enough if they resisted his bullying ways.
The young man said nothing more, but I could see by the light in his eyes that, although he was a baby in size compared to the giant Irishman, he would try and give a good account of himself if they should ever quarrel.
In a few minutes the bells struck and O’Toole came on deck, while the starboard watch filed out into gangway.
“It’s an apology I owe to Mr. Brown,” said the big fellow, “for he’s th’ right sort av man, an’ it would have been a pity had I broken his neck with that boot. Ye see, I’m of a very nervous temperament, an’ like th’ news av a thing broken gently. Me ownmother was av th’ same nature, for whin th’ owld man died, through th’ interposition av Providence an’ th’ fore part av a steam-ingine, they had to appoint me brother Mike t’ break th’ news to her aisy like. So he sez, sez he, ‘My dear, ’tis a short toime th’ owld man will live now.’
“’An’ why?’ sez she; ‘can’t he drink more whiskey an’ curse harder than any man in town?’
“‘’Cause he’s dead,’ said Mike, and th’ owld woman always hild that th’ aisy manner Mike had in breaking av th’ news was th’ only thing that previnted her from dyin’ av th’ shock.”
I told him to be more careful in the future, and Brown, coming up at that moment in time to hear the second mate’s remarks, laughed good-humouredly, so I felt that there would be no further ill-feeling between them.
I gave O’Toole the course to steer, if the wind held as it was, and then went below and turned in. The glass over my bunk had fallen four-tenths during the day and appearedto be still going down rapidly. I watched it as I lay awake for a few moments and then suddenly dropped off into a sound sleep.
As the weather had been clear and wind light enough for skysails, I took no precautions to fix myself firmly in my bunk. I was, therefore, astonished to awake suddenly just in time to prevent myself from falling to the deck as the ship gave a sharp lurch and brought up with a jerk. Four bells struck, and I found I had only slept two hours, so, jamming myself in firmly with a blanket, I tried to sleep again.
I heard O’Toole’s footsteps on the deck overhead, and now and then an oath when he halted at the break of the poop. The vessel seemed to be off her course, for she now took a heavy rolling sea on the port beam that sent her jerking and switching along in a most uncomfortable manner.
Soon I heard O’Toole’s voice giving orders to take a pull in the foretopsail brace, followed by the tramp of men and cluckingrattle of blocks. Then came the order to take in the skysails, and, with the creaking of halyards and distant slatting of canvas, I again lost consciousness.
Bang! Bang! Bang! went a heavy hand on my door, and a sailor poked his head inside a moment afterward with the news that it was eight bells, and that I must leave the warm blankets to turn out for my watch on deck.
I lay awake listening to the deepening hum of the wind in the rigging, and I knew that it was blowing a stiff breeze aloft. The air in my room was cold, and, as I heard O’Toole’s footsteps overhead, the desire to keep within a warm, snug berth was almost overpowering. I could tell by the shuffling of the second mate’s feet that he was having a cold time of it. However, I turned out and found Brown already on deck talking to O’Toole, who was evidently giving him some instructions he did not understand.
The ship was tearing along under t’gallantsails,heading a little to the southward of east, and braced sharp on her backstays to the northeast breeze that was increasing steadily.
The glass had gone down three-tenths since I had turned in, and Captain Crojack had come on deck to take a look at the weather. The odour of his toilet—which consisted invariably of three fingers of rum mixed with sugar and water—was perceptible in the crisp air, and he appeared a trifle nervous. As everything was all right, and it would not be daylight for nearly two hours, he finally came to the conclusion that everything would go along just as well if he went below and turned in again.
“Looks sort o’ dirty away t’ th’ north’ard, Mr. Gore,” said O’Toole, “but I’ve held her up to her course till th’ last half-hour. I was just tellin’ Mr. Brown here that he wants t’ be careful about that weather maint’gallant leech-line, as it’s badly chafed. We’ll have a chance t’ reeve another pretty soon.”
I could see Brown’s teeth in the darkness, for he knew no more of the whereabouts of that leech-line than he did of Captain Kidd’streasure. He was sensible enough, however, not to show his ignorance to the second mate.
“I’ll reeve the beast, if it don’t take too much blood,” he answered, and the second officer stood staring at him in amazement for the space of half a minute. Then he touched his head significantly with his carroty forefinger, and went below muttering something about men who were “off the handle” during the first part of their morning watches.
I came to the rescue as soon as we were alone and asked:
“Have you ever been to sea before—that is, on deep water?”
“No, never, except once when I was a small boy and went with my father. He was a master, you know, and had an interest in some of the finest vessels the firm ever chartered. But it won’t take me long to get the hang of these ropes, for they are not so many as they appear to be after one gets used to them. If you’ll give me a pointer now and then, I’ll be able to do something.”
I was sorely tempted to ask him why hehad taken the notion to come out on this voyage as third mate. Then, when I thought of what I had heard, it seemed too bad to stir up unpleasant memories with him, so I forbore.
He appeared so pleasant and willing that I made up my mind then and there to stand by him. It was hard enough for him to start out and make his living as a sailor, even if he might be able to hold a mate’s berth in a few years, so I cheered him up and told him that he would get along all right. I had had hard knocks and a rough struggle all my life, and I have always believed that a man who has suffered hard knocks is less liable to pass them along to others than a narrow-minded, soft-handed fellow who doesn’t know what the lives of some men are.
We didn’t have much time for discussing nautical subjects on this morning, for, after we had been on deck five minutes, I saw that we were going to have trouble with the canvas, if the vessel wasn’t shortened down quickly. I wasted but few moments beforegiving the order to take in the fore and main t’gallantsails.
When the morning dawned, the deepening haze in the northeast turned a dull, steel blue, while the sun sent fan-shaped beams of light through it, giving it an unpleasant look to a nautical eye.
To windward the sea had a ghastly pale colour, and the whitening combers showed that it was beginning to get a good, quick run to it from the northeast.
Captain Crojack came on deck, accompanied by his niece. The young girl wore an old sou’wester, which had done duty for the skipper for many a year, and was wrapped in a shawl. She made a ludicrous picture, standing there at the companion hatch rigged out in those togs.
“Isn’t this grand, Mr. Gore?” she cried, as I came aft to the skipper. “I do hope we will have a terrible storm. I do so want to see something exciting. It’s awful to be stuck away down there in that stuffy old cabin.”
“I certainly hope we will have nothing of the kind,” I answered, rather shortly, forthe idea of any one wishing for a gale was exceedingly distasteful to me, especially in the hours of the morning watch when I was hungry and half-frozen.
She laughed pleasantly at my ill-humour, and begged Mr. Brown to take her forward, which the skipper, to my surprise, let him do.
“Going to have a fracas before night,” said the old man; “you better see to those hatches, that they are lashed fast. She will be dry enough at both ends, but she’ll be a brute for taking water over her amidships.”
I went forward and had the carpenter get out two heavy timbers to lash over the after hatch, and then saw that the fore and main were battened properly.
The men eyed the third mate curiously while he helped Miss Waters on to the poop again and then joined in the work of lashing the timbers. I noticed a smile or two in the group and saw some of the fellows exchange glances.
The big, burly German—the first man I had chosen in my watch, and who lookedlike an overgrown sculpin—made a remark to the man next to him, as they bent over the timber.
I brought the end of the lashing across the fellow’s broad shoulders so heavily that he started up with an oath and faced around at me.
It was only for an instant, for I held my face close to his and he caught the look of my eye while I cursed him in a low, even tone for being so slow at his work. Then he bent to it again, flashing out venomous glances at me from the corners of his little black eyes.
Before going to breakfast, the skipper took in the maingallantsail, and we ragged along under topsails with the weather clew of the mainsail hauled up. Forward, the lower sails were the maintopmast-staysail, foresail, and forestaysail, and they strained away at a rate that sent the clipper flying through a perfect smother of white foam suds.
O’Toole came on deck, and Brown, the skipper, and myself went to breakfast.
Miss Waters came to the table, but hermother was too ill to leave her bunk. The cleats were fastened to the board to keep the dishes from slipping to leeward, and the young girl appeared to enjoy this novelty. I couldn’t help thinking how bright and rosy she looked as she steadied her plate and laughed gaily at every lurch of the racing ship.
She and Brown kept up a cheerful conversation, while the skipper and I drank our coffee in silence. Once I fancied the old man regarded his third mate a little sourly. However, he said nothing disagreeable and, after finishing his coffee, contented himself with some remarks about the weather. We were nearly through the meal when the vessel took a sudden heel to leeward.
A deep, booming roar overhead, mingled with the hoarse cries of the second mate and thundering crack of flying canvas, told us plainly that something was wrong on deck. Captain Crojack jumped from his chair, letting the dish of cold beef slide to the deck, and together we made our way on deck, closely followed by the third mate.
The ship, struck by a squall, was almost on her beam ends, while the main and mizzen topsails, which O’Toole had let go by the run, were thundering away at a rate that threatened to take the masts out of her.
“Hard up the wheel!” bawled Crojack, as he gained the poop. “Maintopmast-stay-sail, Mr. Gore, quick!” he yelled again as I cast off the halyards and got a couple of men at the down-haul.
O’Toole bawled for all hands, and, as I turned, he and a dozen men sprang into the main rigging and up they went to secure the maintopsail.
Young Brown kept with the men on deck and helped wherever he could lend a hand, for, as he was stout and active, his weight on a down-haul or clewline was equal to any.
The wind increased rapidly while the vessel was paying off before it, so by the time the main and mizzen upper topsails were snug, we were kept hard at it struggling with the main and fore sails.
As she came slowly to, the full force of the wind could be realized, and the flyingdrift and spray gave the thing a nasty look to windward. The sea began to make rapidly.
I took my watch below a little before two bells, while the skipper stayed on deck with the second mate.
Miss Waters stood in the door of the after companionway holding to the combings of the hatch-slide. She looked a little frightened, but was apparently enjoying the ship’s plunges in spite of it. By the present outlook of things to windward, it appeared as though her wish for excitement would be fulfilled before many hours passed.
Brown turned in, or rather he went below, when I did. I fancied that he did it for appearances, as there was little chance for a landsman to rest.
An old sailor will never miss his watch below in bad weather if he can help it, for he never is sure of how long it will be before all hands are turned out for a fight with canvas.
He will manage to get to sleep even if he is stood on his head every few minutes. But
“MISS WATERS STOOD IN THE DOOR OF THE AFTER COMPANIONWAY.”
“MISS WATERS STOOD IN THE DOOR OF THE AFTER COMPANIONWAY.”
“MISS WATERS STOOD IN THE DOOR OF THE AFTER COMPANIONWAY.”
to a person unaccustomed to the motion of an overloaded ship, the jerking and crashing going on below are unbearable. It is entirely different from a comfortable ’tween decks of a passenger ship. Every plank and timber is groaning with the strain, and the tremendous cracking will make it appear, at first, as if the vessel is going to pieces in a few moments.
On the contrary, an old sailor knows that the more noise in the working timbers, up to a certain extent, the safer is the ship, for it is only sound timber that makes a great noise. As for me, I was asleep almost as soon as I had stretched out in my bunk, but almost instantly afterward I was awakened by a thundering shock that made the ship stagger. In a moment my door was burst open and a man stuck in his head and bawled, “All hands, sir!”
Ongaining the deck I found a huge sea had fallen into the waist, filling the main-deck knee-deep with water. The weather was looking wild enough to windward.
The ship was plunging into a mountainous sea, with nothing on her except the three narrow bands of lower topsails and forestaysail. She was heeling over to the gale until her lee deckstrake was level with the sea, while the deep roar of the wind, as it tore its way through the rigging, told plainly of the pressure on the canvas.
The flying, swirling drift struck the face so hard that it was impossible to look but for a moment to windward. I noticed Brown had turned out and was sheltering himself as best he might while he clung to the lee mizzen rigging. Captain Crojack was on deck, and O’Toole had gone forward to callall hands. We had been hove to all the morning on the port track, but, as the barometer fell steadily, the skipper saw, as soon as the wind began to chop around to the eastward, that he was nearing the centre of the cyclone. All hands were then called to wear ship.
As the men took their places at the braces, the skipper gave the order to put the wheel hard up, when the forestaysail, which had held during all the morning, parted from the stay with a loud crack and was gone.
The heavy ship wore slowly under the three lower topsails, but finally came up on the starboard tack, heading almost due north.
When she first headed the sea, a big fellow caught her a little forward of the starboard beam and bore her down until her lee rail was well under water. Then, with a sudden lurch, she righted, sending the flood across the deck and filling the forward cabin and alleyways. The main-deck was full of water, and under the extra load the clipper settled almost to her deck amidships.
The ports in the bulwarks were nailed upand the water would not get clear fast enough through the scuppers. The men were called aft on the poop, while O’Toole and myself, armed with handspikes, started to break out the bulwarks in the waist.
In a few moments we were joined by the third mate, who stood knee-deep in the foam and strove lustily to force the heavy planks from the vessel’s timbers.
While we worked I felt the ship take a heave to windward, and at the same instant heard Crojack’s voice bawling out something.
I turned my head just in time to see a blue hill of water rise high above the weather-rail.
Then, with a tremendous, smothering crash, it fell on deck and rolled over us.
I had just time to grasp the main brace when my feet were swept from under me and I felt myself beneath the surface.
Holding on with both hands, I tried to get my head out of the water, and in a moment the ship righted, jerking me back on to the main-deck.
As soon as I could see anything, I lookedfor O’Toole and Brown. And then, yes, and then I must confess how weak a strong man is, I looked aft to see if a bright face was enjoying the excitement.
There, in the lee scuppers, lay the red-headed giant holding fast to the topsail brace with one hand while the other was fast in the collar of the third mate’s jacket.
O’Toole was up to his armpits in the swirl, but his freckled face and red hair shone like a beacon in the surrounding waste of whiteness, while his deep voice, half-choked with salt water, spluttered out a string of oaths as he dragged Brown to his feet.
“Ef it’s swimmin’ ye’re afther, ’twill be hard to keep up with us,” he roared into the third mate’s ear, “an’ it’s a divin’-bell ye’ll be wantin’ if yer goin’ to help us here, so git on to th’ poop before another sea washes ye clane out av yer skin.” So saying, he released the young man and, grabbing his handspike that floated near, began to start the planking with powerful blows.
The third mate seemed reluctant to leave, but, as his handspike had gone overboard onthat sea, there was nothing else for him to do. He climbed on to the poop and held on to the lee rigging. In a few moments we stove out the ports, and the vessel began to relieve herself of the load on her main-deck. Then we climbed back on the poop and held on, watching the lower topsails as they tugged and strained at the clews.
Captain Crojack stood near the wheel, and his seamed and lined face wore an anxious look as he strove to pierce the cloud of flying drift and spray which bore down on the staggering ship.
I remember watching him and the pretty face in the companionway alternately. There was much of the sturdy sailor’s nature expressed in the soft face of the young girl. And I have always found much to admire in strong, sturdy characters.
Even, as is often the case, if the strong personality has a coarse fibre, and lacks the soft and delicate traceries of sentiment of the weaker, I have always felt that more reliance could be placed in the former than in the latter, and under any circumstances.
Old Crojack’s strong, lined face and puckered eyes, as he stood there trying to look to windward, was a study of resolute responsibility.
All of a sudden there was a loud crack, and the maintopsail seemed to melt away from the yard-arm as if it were a sheet of ice under a tropic sun. Then, almost instantly, the wind began to fall until in a few moments a candle would have burned on deck.
“Clew down the mizzentopsail,” roared the skipper, as he sprang for the halyards, and in a moment the watch were all struggling with that bit of canvas and had it rolled snug on the yard in less time than it takes to tell it.
“Keep her northeast b’ north,” he sung out again, as the ship, becoming unmanageable, began switching and plunging into a high lumpy sea that seemed to come from all points of the compass at once. All around us hung low, thick banks of heavy, dark, and oily-looking clouds, their lower edges almost resting on the heaving ocean. The air hadbecome as warm as if we had suddenly entered the tropics. In the dull, uncertain light I thought I noticed something white on the water to the southward. Then, above the thundering of the seas that fell on the ship’s deck, I could hear a deepening murmur. It swelled into a deep roaring as the hurricane, driving the tops of the seas before it until they were as level as a plain of driven snow, bore down on our starboard quarter.
With a rush that made every shroud and backstay sing to the strain, until the booming roar was deafening, it struck us and away we went before it.
The foretopsail held long enough to get the ship’s head off before it; then it parted from the clews and jackstay and disappeared like a giant bird into the drift ahead.
It blew so hard that it almost lifted me from my feet as I crossed the deck.
Captain Crojack fastened the cabin door and pulled the slide to the companionway, for he knew that, running deep as we were, it would only be a few minutes before the sea would begin to board us.
“By th’ sowl av Saint Patrick, we struck th’ cintre av it this time, sure,” said O’Toole, who, with Brown and a couple of hands in my watch, sheltered themselves behind the mizzen.
“It puts me in moind av th’ time we had on th’Eaglefrigate whin we struck into th’ cintre av one o’ thim circular storms ter th’ north’ard av th’ Bermudas. There was a parrot on board owned by an Irishman in my mess, and ivery time a sea would strike an’ board us th’ baste would laugh outrajis. Th’ fellow was so scared av th’ oncanny cratur that he thought it was Davy Jones himself. So he took him ter th’ spar-deck in his cage an’ opens th’ door, an’ says, ‘Scat, ye baste!’ an’ th’ burd was gone t’ leeward like a streak av green lightnin’.
“‘Now laugh, ye divil incarnate!’ he yelled, ’an’ thank yer stars me conscience previnted me from wringing yer bloody neck!’
“Do yer know, ’pon me whurd, for a fact, the wind fell so that by dark we were ready t’ loose th’ maint’gallantsail. The fellowthat owned th’ burd was th’ first on th’ yard, an’ th’ first thing he saw there, lookin’ down at him from th’ r’yal truck, was a big pair o’ green eyes. Th’ next minute a wild, oncanny laugh broke out from th’ heavens above to th’ earth beneath.
“He gave one yell an’ let go, an’, if it hadn’t been for th’ belly av th’ mainsail being tight as a board, he would have broke his neck. As it was, he slid right down on to th’ main-deck an’ landed on his feet, but he wouldn’t go aloft again till they’d caught th’ burd.
“Now, both ye, Mr. Brown and yersilf, are friendly with th’ ladies, an’ I’m thinking if ye could loose that cockatoo av th’ older one’s, there would be nothin’ but good come from it. Hold hard!” and suiting the action to the yell, he sprang on to the saddle of the spanker boom. The rest of us grabbed whatever came within reach, for we saw a great hill of water high above the stern, and we knew its combing crest would go over us.
The men at the wheel jumped around forwardof it, as, with a thundering crash, the mass of green water rolled over the poop.
It tore the bitt-coverings to match-wood and crashed through the cabin door. A glimpse of struggling arms in the smother of foam that went over the port side told the fate of one of the quartermasters.
“All hands save ship!” roared old Crojack, as soon as the flood had passed over. “Good God! Mr. Gore, she won’t stand another like that; she’s half up in the wind now,” and we sprang to the wheel to keep her from broaching to.
“Lay aft, bullies!” I bawled, and, followed by O’Toole, Brown, and a dozen sailors, I made my way as rapidly as possible to the lazarette to procure a tarpaulin.
We carried it into the mizzen rigging and, by dint of hard work, managed to lash it up and down the ratlines just as another sea boarded us and half-filled the cabin.
Shrieks issued from below, but there was no time to see what was the matter. Captain Crojack was almost drowned at the wheel, but he and the sailor left there heldon. The man was the heavy-set German whose shoulders had felt the weight of my rope’s-end. When I saw how bravely the fellow held the racing ship up to her course, I was almost sorry that I had been so hasty.
As soon as we had the tarpaulin in the mizzen, and the bare yards braced for the starboard tack, the wheel was put down and the clipper rolled up in the trough of the sea. She managed to head up, however, although she took a comber into her waist that stove two men, who were at the braces, so heavily against the t’gallant-rail, that one died by the time he was taken forward, and the other had two ribs broken and was crippled for weeks afterward.
Luckily the wind began to haul to the westward, and we found that on the starboard tack, with nothing but the tarpaulin in the mizzen, she would head up within four points of the sea, while the hauling wind drove the spray over her in clouds but two points forward of the weather beam.
Dripping wet and half-blinded with salt, I made my way aft to where the skipperstood at the wheel. The cries continued to come up the smashed companionway, and, as I drew near, Crojack motioned for me to go below and see what was wrong.
I scrambled down into the cabin, and almost immediately found Mrs. Waters in my arms.
She was hysterical with fright, and begged me never to leave her.
She was a plump, good-looking woman, and I own that I felt a little flattered at this show of absolute confidence. I took her to the weather side of the cabin, clear of the water, and strove to quiet her, and in a short time she was silent. I then thought that it was about time that I should go on deck and attend to my duties.
As soon as I started to leave, she became nervous again and grasped me tightly.
“You’ll never leave me here alone, Mr. Gore; you’ll never leave me?” she cried.
“No,” said I, mechanically, “I’ll never leave you,” and the words were no sooner out of my mouth than I was aware of a stateroomdoor being open and a half-smiling, half-frightened face regarding us intently.
“Mr. Gore!” bawled Captain Crojack down the companionway.
“Ay, ay, sir!” I answered, and, freeing myself, I made my way on deck.
The skipper eyed me curiously.
“Better see about getting a new maintopsail ready for bending, and get the foresail close reefed,” he said, with some energy. And I immediately went forward.
During the dog-watch that evening we bent new fore and main lower topsails and were soon riding comfortably enough. After supper we kept away and drove off to the eastward, with the wind astern and enough canvas on the ship to keep her clear of the running hill behind us.
The carpenter was sent aft to mend the cabin door and clear away the wreck in the after cabin.
So much water had poured down the companionway that many movable things were washed clear into the forward cabin. Among these I noticed a book which I thought Irecognized, by its peculiar cover, as my private log-book. I remember wondering how it could have floated out of my room, but I picked it up and laid it carefully in my bunk to dry.
When I took my watch below, I opened it to see if it was damaged by the water, and was astonished to find neat entries made in it by an unmistakably feminine hand.
On the first page were a few terse lines, thus: “April 16th, left New York. Am a little seasick. Am much amused at the antics of the ogling first officer. His name is Gore, an abbreviation of gorilla. He certainly looks like one,” etc.
I was a little cut at this. I am not handsome, and that made it hurt all the more.
I closed the book and looked out my door into the forward cabin. It was empty. Noiselessly I stole to the door in the bulkhead and looked into the after cabin. It was empty also, and from the sounds that came from the skipper’s room it appeared that he and the passengers were absorbed in conversation over our recent danger. Here was mychance. I went softly to Mrs. Waters’s door and turned the latch. It opened and I saw that all was dark within, so I quickly deposited the book into what I supposed was the empty bunk and turned to flee. Instantly I felt my hair seized from behind and a piercing shriek rent the air close to my ear. I struggled frantically to escape, and had just gained the centre of the cabin when Crojack’s door flew open and he and his niece rushed out into the room.
The two staterooms were directly opposite and opened into the main cabin, so it was evident that he had heard the shriek and had sprung to the rescue.
He was upon me in an instant, and I believe would certainly have killed me before I could have said a word of explanation, had it been in his power to do so.
As it was, I gripped him around the body, holding his arms to his sides and strove to explain matters.
Mrs. Waters tugged lustily at my hair and screamed at the top of her voice, while her daughter looked on in consternation.
In a few moments the good lady let go my hair and very properly fainted. Then I soon had Crojack listening to reason.
When matters were straightened out a little, I went back to my bunk and lay there all the rest of my watch below, cursing my ill luck.
I said, in the beginning, that I was broad-minded, and I’ve always believed that, if there is an all-good and all-powerful Creator, there can be no wrong deduced from any action. He could and would prevent it.
Therefore, from this logical standpoint, there can be no wrong, for every one must believe in an all-good and all-powerful Creator.
From a social or religious standpoint the matter is quite different. A person can do much wrong from this standpoint.
This is not entirely a new line of reasoning, perhaps, but I’ve since come to the conclusion that it might have appeared so to Crojack and his niece at that time. Both of those looked upon that absurd affair from an illogical standpoint. Which goes to showhow much wrong can be done a man by being more religious than logical. Why do good women always suspect wrong of good men? Bah!
Inthe morning, after standing our regular watches, all hands felt better.
I had been wondering how I could treat the affair of the log-book, and how I could get courage to face the passengers at the breakfast-table.
I was quite angry at the treatment I had received, but, on thinking the matter over during the night, I concluded to put on a bold front and act as though nothing had happened to strain my feelings.
Ill luck, I reasoned, could not make a man mean unless the man already had the instincts of a mean person to start with. It would only make him a little more careful and more stern of purpose.
I knew that a man with ill luck always appears mean to women, because women can seldom realize anything but success as a combinationof all the virtues in man. It is probably best for them that this is so, for it dissolves a great many combinations between men and women which might result in great discomfort to both. Therefore, I determined to dismiss the matter from my mind.
We had lost two men during the gale, and there was work to be done on our spars and rigging that would keep all hands busy for several days.
In spite of the feeling of relief which was expressed on the faces of all the men, there was a silence among them that told plainly how the loss of a shipmate will affect even the roughest sailor at first.
The dead man in the fo’c’sle was a ghastly sight, and the wounded one groaned loudly at times, so it was little wonder that the men of the starboard watch refused to heave down with a chorus when they trimmed the braces.
O’Toole cursed them roundly for a half-hearted set of loafers. He always cursed men from habit, and never struck them when his ideas and theirs were found to be different.As the morning wore on, the sun shone at brief intervals through the gaps between the flying gulf clouds, and its warmth began to dry out our wet clothes and make things more cheerful.
Miss Waters joined us at breakfast, and appeared none the worse for the shaking up she had been through.
She was dressed in a neat-fitting cloth jacket that showed off her beautiful figure to great advantage, and she chatted and laughed in gentle good humour.
I have been in almost all countries and have seen nearly all kinds of women, but it seemed to me at that time that I had never seen one so beautiful in face and figure, and so gentle in disposition.
The girl, however, always appeared more interested in the third mate than in anything else.
Of course, I didn’t resent this, but it somehow made me feel conscious of my rough appearance, and convinced me that my sailor manners were out of place at the cabin table while she sat there. Her deep blue eyes hada roguish look in them as she glanced across at me this morning.
I saw that she intended to say something to me, and I felt my cheeks burn at the fear of some allusion to the unfortunate incident of the evening before.
“Well, Mr. Gore,” she broke forth, “I suppose you are not going to forgive me for wishing for that storm? You can’t be so superstitious as to believe that my wishing had anything to do with the state of the weather. You need never fear that I’ll wish for another, though, for I never was so frightened before in all my life.”
“I suppose you know that we lost two men and that another was badly injured?” I answered, quickly, and then immediately felt what a fool I was to throw such a shadow over the young girl’s spirits.
“Why, no, indeed, I knew nothing of the kind,” she answered, and her laugh was gone, and her face grew pale.
“Where is the injured man?”
“In the fo’castle,” I answered, and, as I did so, the skipper gave me a warning frown.
“Uncle David, I want you to let me go with Mr. Gore to see the poor man,” she said, quietly. “I had no idea anything so dreadful happened.”
The old skipper scowled at me and grunted out some reply, and I could see that he was anything but pleased at my reference to the accident.
However, I had no sooner gone on deck, after breakfast, than Miss Waters came to me and asked me to take her forward. The ship was running along easily under t’gallantsails, and the main-deck was safe enough, so, offering my arm for support, we started.
I noticed Brown hurrying along the port gangway and saw him enter the fo’castle. Then, when we arrived, he came out and answered my look by telling Miss Waters that she might enter.
It was no imagination on my part when I noticed the young girl shrink at the sight of dirty, wet clothes and the none too clean floor as we entered.
She still held to my arm, and we walked up to the form of a man lying in one ofthe bunks. The third mate sprang quickly in front of us and pointed to a bunk farther forward, just as I was about to address a corpse.
The girl saw my quick movement as I turned my gaze in the right direction, and, although only the back of the dead man’s head was visible, she guessed the mistake I had made, for she trembled violently.
She went up to the wounded sailor, who stared at her in stupid wonder. Then she asked him how he felt, and put her soft little hand on his face and tried to cheer him up.
The poor fellow appeared almost frightened at this, and muttered some nonsense about an angel. But he was a foul-looking dago of the lowest class, and the girl could not understand him.
Finally, after promising to make him some gruel, she went on deck again, much to my relief. I could not help admiring the feeling of sympathy she showed for the man, but I felt that the fo’castle of a ship was not the place for a girl to enter, even attended as she was.
When we went on deck, she drew a long breath and appeared thoughtful for some moments. Finally she said:
“Are all forecastles on ships like that?”
“Yes,” I answered, “only most of them are a good deal dirtier and worse ventilated. When I first went to sea, the fo’castle was always below, ’tween decks, and not a big, airy room, with windows in it, like the one we’ve just left. I remember, on the old clipperMohawk, we would have thought a fo’castle like this one equal to the captain’s cabin.”
She was silent while we walked aft, and I supposed she was thinking of the sailor forward. Just as we gained the poop she turned her head and looked up at me, saying:
“And you were a sailor once and had to live in a place like that?”
“I am a sailor yet, I believe, and I will probably never be anything else, except a fool, also,” I answered; “but as for living in places like our fo’castle, I must confess that I’ve spent at least ten years in them.”
She let go my arm and, I fancied, gave a hopeless little sigh.
“I think I’d rather be a cow and live in a comfortable barn,” she remarked, rather drily.
“No objection on my part,” I answered, quickly.
Then she thanked me for going with her, and joined the skipper, who had been standing near the quarter-rail watching us intently. He saw her safely aft to the companionway and then returned to where I stood. He was silent for some time and then looked at me and smiled. I have always believed the old skipper was something of a mind-reader.
“Women are queer things,” he said.
I said nothing, but looked an affirmative answer.
“But with man,” he went on, “more is to be hoped from. He should not let his thoughts dwell too much on the necessity of his getting married and propagating his species. It is natural for a woman to wish to get married for many reasons; but a manshould not let this be the principal object in his life. That this is, unfortunately, not always the case is proved by his thoughts and actions.
“When you get to be an old shellback, like me, you will see that, while love of women is good enough to a certain extent, there are other duties for an honest man to perform before his cruise is out.
“Now, take yourself, for instance. You never made a fool of yourself about women. And that’s the reason you had theSouthern Cross—before you lost her. Whereas, if you were like O’Toole, who is always reading story-books, where would you be to-day? Story-books and women have kept him down, and one is about the same thing as the other. I’ve had hundreds of story-books sent aboard here by those women folks at the sailors’ mission, and one and all had the getting married and propagation of species as the central object for the yarn. Sometimes the hero would differ a little in regards to the details of getting the weather gauge of the sweet,beautiful, fine, handsome girl—but the ends were all alike.
“No, sir, Mr. Gore, take my word for it, story-books and women, women and story-books—they are all the same in the end. They’ve kept O’Toole down for having them and you’ve worked your way up—to a certain extent—by not having them. A man should stick to his duty and let them alone until he gets old enough to understand them as I do.”
He was a rough, outspoken man, was old Captain Crojack.
Duringthe next week the ship held her course to the eastward, carrying all sail, and as the lumpy gulf clouds disappeared on the western horizon, we hauled to the southward to pick up the northeast trade.
The effects of the storm were no longer visible. The dead sailor we buried the day after we ran out of it. The loss of this man and the one who was swept overboard by the sea that pooped us caused every one to be depressed in spirit for several days. But a man is soon forgotten when he loses the number of his mess. Great and small they drop out, and are never missed long afterward. In a little while the songs and croakings that accompanied an accordion belonging to the starboard watch told plainly that the few tears shed for a lost shipmate among our men were soon dried and forgotten. Miss Waters repeated her visits to the sick sailor when hiswatch were on deck, and several times I saw her going forward with the third mate, carrying some gruel she had made for him.
Since her remarks to me about having been a sailor and living in a black hole of a fo’castle, she had said little to me. Her mother still kept to her bunk during meal hours, and I had escaped facing her, but the girl’s studied coldness more than outweighed this pleasure.
I could hardly understand why she should object to a man who was a sailor, when her father and grandfather had both worked their way from the fo’castle to the quarter-deck. But, then, the woman’s reasoning, I argued, was peculiar to herself and none the less obstinate for being illogical.
Although I was at first put out of temper by her remarks, I now saw that she devoted her attention almost entirely to young Brown when we were at meals together. This attachment appeared much more fitting for a girl of her years and position.
I cursed myself heartily for being such a fool as to allow her a moment in my thought.What was I but a mate and a man nearly twice her age? In any case, I had no right to expect her to be more than half-civil to me.
As the weather grew warmer, after we picked up the northeast trade, it was pleasant on deck during the hours of the evening dog-watch. Captain Crojack was easy enough on his mates during good weather, so Brown and I got in the habit of sitting on the combings of the after hatch in the evenings smoking and spinning yarns while waiting for eight bells to strike.
Supper always took up nearly half of the two hours, and it was hardly worth while to turn in for the remainder of the watch if the weather was good.
O’Toole thought as the rest of us did upon this subject, for he invariably came on deck after his supper at the second table and smoked a short, black pipe while he spun his yarns.
People often wonder why sailors find it necessary to smoke and lie, after eating a hearty meal of salt junk and hardtack.
It is just as impossible to explain this as it is to tell why coal-heavers, or longshoremen, invariably put the receipts for their truckloads into their hats. It is for some purpose that the sailor is so constituted. Perhaps good, hard, all-around lying promotes the digestion of salt food, by getting the system so thoroughly saturated with deception that the stomach believes the junk fresh. Whatever the purpose, it is probably a good one.
One night we were running along under skysails, with the trade abaft the beam. We heeled over gently and sent the foam-flakes swashing from the sides with a musical, tinkling sound.
The soft hum of the breeze through the rigging, coupled with the regular sound of the water, was very pleasing to the ears of Brown and myself as we lounged on the combings and smoked. It lacked half an hour of eight bells, and then we would relieve O’Toole, who stood at the break of the poop, lazily watching the canvas.
I dozed until the watch was called, andthen the second mate roused me and gave the ship’s course, observing:
“’Tis no use av ye goin’ aft whin th’ owld man is there with th’ leddies. He’s in a divil av a timper because I made a remark to th’ man at th’ wheel an’ th’ young gurl an’ her ma heard me. But he’s always finding fault lately an’ something seems t’ be bearing down his mind, an’, by th’ saints, I believe ’tis nothing else than th’ weight av his own opinion.”
“He says you are a devil for story-books and women, O’Toole, and that’s the reason you are such a bad second mate,” I answered, smiling.
But O’Toole didn’t laugh. He appeared thoughtful for some moments, and then said, with great earnestness: “Maybe I am, Mr. Gore, but is it right for th’ owld man to say it? Is it right for a man who’s had a good income and a handsome wife t’ blackguard a poor divil av a mate because he can’t have either, and say that it is his own fault? No, Mr. Gore, I spake for th’ whole crowd av poor divils, like us, what no dacent woman’lltake up with. You may not be a bright man, Mr. Gore, savin’ your prisence, but, by th’ Prophet, I give ye th’ credit av being a just one. But no matter, I’ll say no more.”
He was silent for a few moments, and then broke out afresh:
“Ha! Ha! ’Twas only yisterday, whin they turned th’ roosters an’ hens out on th’ main-deck t’ give thim an airing, that he began t’ pitch into th’ fowls thimselves. He chased a couple av thim from under th’ break av th’ poop, throwin’ a belayin’-pin an’ bawlin’, ‘Git out, ye ornery burds! Have ye got no regard for ayther time, place, or circumstance?’ ’Pon me whurd, ’tis a wonder he didn’t break out his Bible an’ read one av th’ tin commandments t’ thim. It’s a sky-pilot he’s makin’ av th’ owld, rip-roarin’ skipper he used t’ be.”
I went aft and found Crojack talking to the passengers, so, after saying a few words, I made some excuse to go forward again. O’Toole was still sitting on the hatch combings, talking to the third mate. I walked athwartships, under the break of the poop,watching the canvas aloft and at the same time listening to scraps of the conversation.
“Faith, I don’t mind gettin’ th’ blame for me own sins,” he was saying, for he was still sore from Crojack’s faultfinding, “but ’tis the takin’ av other people’s upon mesilf that makes me feel onhealthy. I’ve seen enough av the world t’ know that it don’t pay t’ take overmuch responsibility.
“There was a case av th’ kind happened aboard th’Eagle, frigate, whin I was captain av th’ maintop, and used t’ teach my fellows how t’ swing a cutlass an’ handle a pistol without making it safer t’ be an inimy than a friend. This, av course, I did whin I was on deck.
“We was in Havana, an’ ’twas hot work drillin’ there, but it wouldn’t have been so bad if th’ owld man hadn’t shut down on th’ beer. As it was, th’ men tried all kinds av ways t’ get th’ stuff on deck from th’ shore. Sometimes they would try and concale it in their clothes, in order to get it aboard, but it was a poor way whin so many was thirsty.
“Finally, th’ bhoys got hold av an idea to float th’ stuff down th’ tideway by th’ keg at night, an’ thin pull it aboard over th’ cat-head whin no one was lookin’.
“There was one divil av a Mike, that was always gettin’ into scrapes, who paid a dago to start a keg one night about eight bells in th’ first watch.
“He was on the lookout for it, an’ got it aboard all safe enough, but th’ officer av th’ deck comin’ for’ard at th’ time, he was forced to concale th’ stuff as quick as he could, an’ he did this by rollin’ th’ stuff into th’ bo’s’n’s locker.
“Ye see, th’ bo’s’n was a dead square and proper man, an’ he niver broke a rule or disobeyed an order; so he thought it was safe.
“Somehow or other, th’ officer, McGraw, wanted a cringle for something, an’ av course he went straight for th’ locker an’ found it.
“Williams was called t’ the mast an’ asked t’ explain how a keg av good beer made its way into his locker.
“Ye see, he had an idea that he mustshield th’ feller Mike, who was no good whatever, an’ made more trouble aboard than th’ whole ship’s company besides. So when Captain Broadchin asked th’ question th’ bo’s’n got mighty quiet like, an’ the old man had t’ repeat th’ askin’ more’n onct. He looked awful glum and solemn when he did answer.
“‘Whist!’ sez he, in a deep, pious tone, ‘faith, an’ yer honour, I belave th’ ship’s ha’nted.’
“‘What’s that?’ sez th’ owld man.
“‘Yes, sir,’ sez he. ‘I was walking for’ard, just afore eight bells, whin I see a keg av beer floatin’ in th’ air abaft th’ fore riggin’. I knew ’twas ’gainst orders t’ tech th’ stuff, an’ th’ only way t’ save the boys was to hide th’ keg as soon as it lit on th’ main-deck. How th’ rest av th’ watch missed seein’ the keg floatin’ past th’ fore riggin’ I can’t make out at all, at all. But that’s th’ truth, th’ whole truth, an’ a divil a bit besides th’ truth, s’help me Gawd!’
“Well, ye see, old Broadchin was so well satisfied with th’ explanation that he niversaid another whurd, an’ he believed so well that he was a-tellin’ av th’ truth that he clapped him in irons an’ kept him ’tween decks th’ whole av’ th’ cruise.
“Whin he was discharged he was all broke in health, an’ he got good an’ drunk an’ came back t’ say good-bye t’ all hands, for he was a good feller, even in liquor.
“‘Good-bye, O’Toole, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye,’ sez he. An’ thin he shakes hands all around an’ comes aft t’ where th’ officers was sittin’.
“‘Good-bye, Mr. McGraw, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye,’ sez he t’ th’ liftenant. Then he walked up t’ th’ owld man.
“‘Good-bye t’ ye, too, sir,’ sez he. ‘Good-bye, Captain Broadchin, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye, too, sir—but to a damned limited extint!’
“An’ there was a good bo’s’n gone, all because av that Mike. So I made up me mind thin an’ there niver t’ take another man’s sins upon me sowl, nor shield any av his ornery doin’s by mesilf.”
Brown laughed a little at O’Toole’saccount, and then said, with more earnestness than I thought the occasion required:
“After all, the bo’s’n did the right thing, for it would have been rather a mean piece of business to have told how the beer came into his possession and gotten the whole watch in trouble.”
“Not a bit av it—it would have saved a good bo’s’n an’ me a lot av rope’s-ending upon th’ hide av that good-for-nothing man, Mike.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” replied Brown, “I don’t think much of a man who won’t shield his friends. Suppose, for instance, you had a good friend or brother, and something occurred that might get him into trouble. Wouldn’t you do what you could to keep him out of it?”
“Now, ’pon me whurd, if ye ain’t entirely out av your reckoning. I’d see him forty fathoms below anywhere at all before I’d risk mesilf.”
Brown rose from the hatch and gave a groan of disgust. Then he went aft on the quarter-deck, and all of that watch he appearedto be thinking over some interesting subject. He was so absorbed that he hardly spoke to me until midnight. Then he gave a sigh of relief, and, as O’Toole came to relieve us, we went below.
I stopped a few moments to take a bite of the salt junk set out on the cabin table for the mates. Afterward, seeing the light in his stateroom, I passed by his open door to see why a third mate should stay awake during his watch below.
There he sat in his bunk, with a great pile of the most flashy police reports of the period on the stool beside him.
“Come in, Mr. Gore,” said he. “I have just made a fine haul of papers. Found them in that quartermaster’s chest this morning. Take one; they are uncommonly interesting,” and he gave me one with an enormous woman in tights pictured on the cover.