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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31497-8.txt b/31497-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..762ae5a --- /dev/null +++ b/31497-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6791 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brassbounder, by David W. Bone + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Brassbounder + A Tale of the Sea + +Author: David W. Bone + +Release Date: March 4, 2010 [EBook #31497] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRASSBOUNDER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +THE BRASSBOUNDER + +_A Tale of the Sea_ + + +by + +DAVID W. BONE + + +AUTHOR OF "BROKEN STOWAGE" + + + + +DUCKWORTH + +3 HENRIETTA STREET + +LONDON, W.C.2. + + + + +All Rights Reserved + +First published 1910. Reprinted (twice) 1910. + +Reprinted 1911. Popular Edition printed 1913. + +Reprinted 1916 and 1924. + +Reprinted (New Readers Library) 1927. + + + +Made and Printed in Great Britain by + +The Camelot Press Limited + +London and Southampton + + + + +TO + +JAMES HAMILTON MUIR + + + + +THE NEW READERS LIBRARY + + 1. GREEN MANSIONS by W. H. HUDSON + 2. THE POLYGLOTS by WILLIAM GERHARDI + 3. THE SEA AND THE JUNGLE by H. M. TOMLINSON + 4. THE ROADMENDER by MICHAEL FAIRLESS + 5. THE TERROR by ARTHUR MACHEN + 6. LOST DIARIES by MAURICE BARING + 7. THE BONADVENTURE by EDMUND BLUNDEN + 8. SUCCESS by CUNNINGHAM GRAHAM + 9. BIRDS AND MAN by W. H. HUDSON + 10. THE BLACK MONK by ANTON TCHEKOFF + 11. GOD'S COUNTRY by JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + 12. BUCOLIC COMEDIES by EDITH SITWELL + 13. THE BRASSBOUNDER by DAVID W. BONE + 14. THE PURPLE LAND by W. H. HUDSON + 15. CALABAN'S GUIDE TO LETTERS AND LAMKIN'S REMAINS by HILAIRE BELLOC + 16. OBITER DICTA by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL + 17. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR by RICHARD JEFFERIES + 18. A CRYSTAL AGE by W. H. HUDSON + 19. THE KISS by ANTON TCHEKOFF + 20. GOSSIP OF THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTURIES by JOHN BERESFORD + 21. FUTILITY by WILLIAM GERHARDI + 22. TRIPLE FUGUE by OSBERT SITWELL + 23. EL OMBÚ by W. H. HUDSON + 24. SIX SHORT PLAYS by JOHN GALSWORTHY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE 'BLUE PETER' + II. STEERSMANSHIP + III. THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK + IV. THE 'DEAD HORSE' + V. 'SEA PRICE' + VI. ROUNDING THE HORN + VII. A HOT CARGO + VIII. WORK! + IX. IN 'FRISCO TOWN + X. THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S' + XI. THE 'CONVALESCENT' + XII. ON THE SACRAMENTO + XIII. HOMEWARD! + XIV. A TRICK AT THE WHEEL + XV. ''OLY JOES' + XVI. EAST, HALF SOUTH! + XVII. ADRIFT + XVIII. "----AFTER FORTY YEAR!" + XIX. 'IN LITTLE SCOTLAND' + XX. UNDER THE FLAG + XXI. 'DOLDRUMS' + XXII. ON SUNDAY + XXIII. A LANDFALL + XXIV. FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS + XXV. "T' WIND'ARD!" + XXVI. LIKE A MAN + EPILOGUE: "1910" + + + + +THE BRASSBOUNDER + + +I + +THE 'BLUE PETER' + +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong. The university bells toll out in +strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. On +the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, +strike tellingly on the ear--hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp +of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then +silence, broken in a little by the deep mournful note of a steamer's +siren, wind-borne through the Kelvin Valley, or the shrilling of an +engine whistle that marks a driver impatient at the junction points. +Sleepless, I think of my coming voyage, of the long months--years, +perhaps--that will come and go ere next I lie awake hearkening to the +night voices of my native city. My days of holiday--an all too brief +spell of comfort and shore living--are over; another peal or more of +the familiar bells and my emissary of the fates--a Gorbals cabman, +belike--will be at the door, ready to set me rattling over the granite +setts on the direct road that leads by Bath Street, Finnieston, and +Cape Horn--to San Francisco. A long voyage and a hard. And where +next? No one seems to know! Anywhere where wind blows and square-sail +can carry a freight. At the office on Saturday, the shipping clerk +turned his palms out at my questioning. + +"Home again, perhaps. The colonies! Up the Sound or across to Japan," +he said, looking in his _Murray's Diary_ and then at the clock, to see +if there was time for him to nip home for his clubs and catch the 1.15 +for Kilmacolm. + +Nearly seventeen months of my apprenticeship remain to be served. +Seventeen months of a hard sea life, between the masts of a starvation +Scotch barque, in the roughest of seafaring, on the long voyage, the +stormy track leading westward round the Horn. + +It will be February or March when we get down there. Not the worst +months, thank Heaven! but bad enough at the best. And we'll be badly +off this voyage, for the owners have taken two able seamen off our +complement. "Hard times!" they will be saying. Aye! hard times--for +us, who will now have to share two men's weight in working our heavily +sparred barque. + +Two new apprentices have joined. Poor little devils! they don't know +what it is. It seemed all very fine to that wee chap from Inverary who +came with his father to see the ship before he joined. How the eyes of +him glinted as he looked about, proud of his brass-bound clothes and +badge cap. And the Mate, all smiles, showing them over the ship and +telling the old Hielan' clergyman what a fine vessel she was, and what +an interest he took in boys, and what fine times they had on board +ship, and all that! Ah yes--fine times! It's as well the old chap +doesn't know what he is sending his son to! How can he? We know--but +we don't tell.... Pride! Rotten pride! We come home from our first +voyage sick of it all.... Would give up but for pride.... Afraid to +be called 'stuck sailors' ... of the sneers of our old schoolmates.... +So we come home in a great show of bravery and swagger about in our +brass-bound uniform and lie finely about the fine times we had ... out +there! ... And then nothing will do but Jimmy, next door, must be off +to the sea too--to come back and play the same game on young Alick! +That's the way of it! ... + +Then when the Mate and them came to the half-deck, it was: "Oh yes, +Sir! This is the boys' quarters. Well! Not always like that, +Sir--when we get away to sea, you know, and get things shipshape. Oh, +well no! There's not much room aboard ship, you see. This is one of +our boys--Mister Jones." (Jones, looking like a miller's man--he had +been stowing ship's biscuits in the tanks--grinned foolishly at the +Mate's introduction: 'Mister!') "We're very busy just now, getting +ready for sea. Everything's in a mess, as you see, Sir. Only joined, +myself, last week. But, oh yes! It will be all right when we get to +sea--when we get things shipshape and settled down, Sir!" + +Oh yes! Everything will be all right then, eh? Especially when we get +down off the Horn, and the dingy half-deck will be awash most of the +time with icy water. The owners would do nothing to it this trip, in +spite of our complaints. They sent a young man down from the office +last week who poked at the covering boards with his umbrella and wanted +to know what we were growling at. Wish we had him out there--off Diego +Ramirez. Give him something to growl at with the ship working, and +green seas on deck, and the water lashing about the floor of the house, +washing out the lower bunks, bed and bedding, and soaking every stitch +of the clothing that we had fondly hoped would keep us moderately dry +in the next bitter night watch. And when (as we try with trembling, +benumbed fingers to buckle on the sodden clothes) the ill-hinged door +swings to, and a rush of water and a blast of icy wind chills us to the +marrow, it needs but a hoarse, raucous shout from without to crown the +summit of misery. "Out there, the watch! Turn out!" in tone that +admits of no protest. "Turn out, damn ye, an' stand-by t' wear ship!" + +(A blast of wind and rain rattles on my window-pane. _Ugh_! I turn +the more cosily amid my blankets.) + +Oh yes! He would have something to growl at, that young man who asked +if the 'Skipp-ah' was aboard, and said he "was deshed if he could see +what we hed to complain of." + +He would learn, painfully, that a ship, snugly moored in the south-east +corner of the Queen's Dock (stern-on to a telephone call-box), and the +same craft, labouring in the teeth of a Cape Horn gale, present some +points of difference; that it is a far cry from 58° South to the Clyde +Repair Works, and that the business of shipping is not entirely a +matter of ledgers. + +Oh well! Just have to stick it, though. After all, it won't always be +hard times. Think of the long, sunny days drowsing along down the +'Trades,' of the fine times out there in 'Frisco, of joys of strenuous +action greater than the shipping clerk will ever know, even if he +should manage to hole out in three. Seventeen months! It will soon +pass, and I'll be a free man when I get back to Glasgow again. +Seventeen months, and then--then---- + +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong.... Ding dong.... + +Quarter to! With a sigh for the comfort of a life ashore, I rise and +dress. Through the window I see the Square, shrouded in mist, the +nearer leafless shrubs swaying in the chill wind, pavement glistening +in the flickering light of street lamps. A dismal morning to be +setting off to the sea! Portent of head winds and foul weather that we +may meet in Channel before the last of Glasgow's grime and smoke-wrack +is blown from the rigging. + +A stir in the next room marks another rising. Kindly old '_Ding ... +dong_' has called a favourite brother from his rest to give me convoy +to the harbour. + +Ready for the road, he comes to my room. Sleepy-eyed, yawning. "Four +o'clock! _Ugh_! Who ever heard of a man going to sea at four in the +morning! Ought to be a bright summer's day, and the sun shining and +flags flying an'----" A choked laugh. + +"Glad I'm not a sailorman to be going out on a morning like this! Sure +you've remembered everything? Your cab should be here now. Just gone +four. Heard the bells as I was dressing----" + +Rattle of wheels on the granite setts--sharp, metallic ring of shod +heels--a moment of looking for a number--a ring of the door-bell. + +"Perty that's tae gang doon tae th' Queen's Dock wi' luggage.... A' +richt, Mister! Ah can cairry them ma'sel'.... Aye! Weel! Noo that +ye menshun it, Sur ... oon a mornin' like this.... Ma respeks, gents!" + +There are no good-byes: the last has been said the night before. There +could be no enthusiasm at four on a raw November's morning; it is best +that I slip out quietly and take my seat, with a last look at the quiet +street, the darkened windows, the quaint, familiar belfry of St. Jude's. + +"A' richt, Sur. G'up, mere! Haud up, mere, ye!" + +At a corner of the Square the night policeman, yawning whole-heartedly, +peers into the cab to see who goes. There is nothing to investigate; +the sea-chest, sailor-bag, and bedding, piled awkwardly on the +'dickey,' tell all he wants to know. + +"A sailor for aff!" + +Jingling his keys, he thinks maybe of the many 'braw laads' from +Lochinver who go the same hard road. + + * * * * * + +Down the deserted wind-swept streets we drive steadily on, till house +lights glinting behind the blinds and hurrying figures of a +'night-shift' show that we are near the river and the docks. A turn +along the waterside, the dim outlines of the ships and tracery of mast +and spar looming large and fantastic in the darkness, and the driver, +questioning, brings up at a dim-lit shed, bare of goods and cargo--the +berth of a full-laden outward-bounder. My barque--the _Florence_, of +Glasgow--lies in a corner of the dock, ready for sea. Tugs are +churning the muddy water alongside, getting into position to drag her +from the quay wall; the lurid side-light gleams on a small knot of +well-wishers gathered at the forward gangway exchanging parting words +with the local seamen of our crew. I have cut my time but short. + +"Come en there, you!" is my greeting from the harassed Chief Mate. +"Are you turned a ---- passenger, with your gloves and overcoat? You +sh'd have been here an hour ago! Get a move on ye, now, and bear a +hand with these warps.... Gad! A drunken crew an' skulkin' +'prentices, an' th' Old Man growlin' like a bear with a sore----" + +Grumbling loudly, he goes forward, leaving me the minute for +'good-bye,' the late 'remembers,' the last long hand-grip. + +Into the half-deck, to change hurriedly into working clothes. Time +enough to note the guttering lamp, evil smell, the dismal aspect of my +home afloat--then, on deck again, to haul, viciously despondent, at the +cast-off mooring ropes. + +Forward the crew--drunk to a man--are giving the Chief Mate trouble, +and it is only when the gangway is hauled ashore that anything can be +done. The cook, lying as he fell over his sailor bag, sings, "_'t wis +ye'r vice, ma gen-tul Merry!_" in as many keys as there are points in +the compass, drunkenly indifferent to the farewells of a sad-faced +woman, standing on the quayside with a baby in her arms. Riot and +disorder is the way of things; the Mates, out of temper with the +muddlers at the ropes, are swearing, pushing, coaxing--to some attempt +at getting the ship unmoored. Double work for the sober ones, and for +thanks--a muttered curse. Small wonder that men go drunk to the sea: +the wonder is that any go sober! + +At starting there is a delay. Some of the men have slipped ashore for +a last pull at a neighbourly 'hauf-mutchkin,' and at a muster four are +missing. For a time we hold on at single moorings, the stern tug +blowing a 'hurry-up' blast on her siren, the Captain and a River Pilot +stamping on the poop, angrily impatient. One rejoins, drunken and +defiant, but of the others there is no sign. We can wait no longer. + +"Let go, aft!" shouts the Captain. "Let go, an' haul in. Damn them +for worthless sodjers, anyway! Mister"--to a waiting Board of Trade +official--"send them t' Greenock, if ye can run them in. If not, +telephone down that we're three A.B.'s short.... Lie up t' th' +norr'ard, stern tug, there. Hard a-port, Mister? All right! Let go +all, forr'ard!" ... We swing into the dock passage, from whence the +figures of our friends on the misty quayside are faintly visible. The +little crowd raises a weakly cheer, and one bold spirit (with his +guid-brither's 'hauf-pey note' in his pocket) shouts a bar or two of +"Wull ye no' come back again!" A few muttered farewells, and the shore +folk hurry down between the wagons to exchange a last parting word at +the Kelvinhaugh. '_... Dong ... ding ... DONG ... DONG...._' Set to a +fanfare of steam whistles, Old Brazen Tongue of Gilmorehill tolls us +benison as we steer between the pierheads. Six sonorous strokes, loud +above the shrilling of workshop signals and the nearer merry jangle of +the engine-house chimes. + +Workmen, hurrying to their jobs, curse us for robbing them of a +'quarter,' the swing-bridge being open to let us through. "Come oon! +Hurry up wi' that auld 'jeely-dish,' an' see's a chance tae get tae wur +wark," they shout in a chorus of just irritation. A facetious member +of our crew shouts: + +"Wot--oh, old stiy-at-'omes. Cahmin' aat t' get wandered?"--and a +dockman answers: + +"Hello, Jake, 'i ye therr? Man, th' sailormen maun a' be deid when th' +Mate gied you a sicht! Jist you wait tae he catches ye fanklin' th' +cro'-jeck sheets!" + +We swing slowly between the pierheads, and the workmen, humoured by the +dockman's jest, give us a hoarse cheer as they scurry across the still +moving bridge. In time-honoured fashion our Cockney humorist calls +for, 'Three cheers f'r ol' Pier-'ead, boys,' and such of the 'boys' as +are able chant a feeble echo to his shout. The tugs straighten us up +in the river, and we breast the flood cautiously, for the mist has not +yet cleared and the coasting skippers are taking risks to get to their +berths before the stevedores have picked their men. In the shipyards +workmen are beginning their day's toil, the lowe of their flares light +up the gaunt structures of ships to be. Sharp at the last wailing note +of the whistle, the din of strenuous work begins, and we are fittingly +drummed down the reaches to a merry tune of clanging hammers--the +shipyard chorus "Let Glasgow flourish!" + +Dawn finds us off Bowling, and as the fog clears gives us misty views +of the Kilpatrick Hills. Ahead, Dumbarton Rock looms up, gaunt and +misty, sentinel o'er the lesser heights. South, the Renfrew shore +stretches broadly out under the brightening sky--the wooded Elderslie +slopes and distant hills, and, nearer, the shoal ground behind the lang +Dyke where screaming gulls circle and wheel. The setting out is none +so ill now, with God's good daylight broad over all, and the flags +flying--the 'Blue Peter' fluttering its message at the fore. + +On the poop, the Captain (the 'Old Man,' be he twenty-one or fifty) +paces to and fro--a short sailor walk, with a pause now and then to +mark the steering or pass a word with the River Pilot. Of medium +height, though broad to the point of ungainliness, Old Jock Leish (in +his ill-fitting broadcloth shore-clothes) might have passed for a +prosperous farmer, but it needed only a glance at the keen grey eyes +peering from beneath bushy eyebrows, the determined set of a square +lower jaw, to note a man of action, accustomed to command. A quick, +alert turn of the head, the lift of shoulders as he walked--arms +swinging in seaman-like balance--and the trick of pausing at a windward +turn to glance at the weather sky, marked the sailing shipmaster--the +man to whom thought and action must be as one. + +Pausing at the binnacle to note the direction of the wind, he gives an +exclamation of disgust. + +"A 'dead muzzler,' Pilot. No sign o' a slant in the trend o' th' upper +clouds. Sou'west, outside, I'm afraid.... Mebbe it's just as weel; +we'll have t' bring up at th' Tail o' th' Bank, anyway, for these three +hands, damn them.... An' th' rest are useless.... Drunk t' a man, th' +Mate says. God! They'd better sober up soon, or we'll have to try +'Yankee music' t' get things shipshape!" + +The Pilot laughed. "I thought the 'Yankee touch' was done with at sea +now," he said. "Merchant Shippin' Act, and that sort of thing, +Captain?" + +"Goad, no! It's no bye wi' yet, an' never will be as long as work has +to be done at sea. I never was much taken with it myself, but, damn +it, ye've got to sail the ship, and ye can't do it without hands. Oh, +a little of it at the setting off does no harm--they forget all about +it before long; but at the end of a voyage, when ye're getting near +port, it's not very wise. No, not very wise--an' besides, you don't +need it!" + +The Pilot grins again, thinking maybe of his own experiences, before he +'swallowed part of the anchor,' and Old Jock returns to his walk. + +Overhead the masts and spars are black with the grime of a 'voyage' in +Glasgow Harbour, and 'Irish pennants' fluttering wildly on spar and +rigging tell of the scamped work of those whose names are not on our +'Articles.' Sternly superintended (now that the Mate has given up all +hope of getting work out of the men), we elder boys are held aloft, +reeving running gear through the leads in the maintop. On the deck +below the new apprentices gaze in open-mouthed admiration at our deeds: +they wonder why the Mate should think such clever fellows laggard, why +he should curse us for clumsy 'sodgers,' as a long length of rope goes +(wrongly led) through the top. In a few months more they themselves +will be criticising the 'hoodlums,' and discussing the wisdom of the +'Old Man' in standing so far to the south'ard. + +Fog comes dense on us at Port Glasgow, and incoming steamers, looming +large on the narrowed horizon, steer sharply to the south to give us +water. Enveloped in the driving wraiths we hear the deep notes of +moving vessels, the clatter of bells on ships at anchor, and farther +down, loud over all, the siren at the Cloch, bellowing a warning of +thick weather beyond the Point. Sheering cautiously out of the +fairway, we come to anchor at Tail of the Bank to wait for our +'pier-head jumps.' At four in the afternoon, a launch comes off with +our recruits and our whipper-in explains his apparent delay. + +"Hilt nor hair o' th' men that left ye hae I seen. I thocht I'd fin' +them at 'Dirty Dick's' when th' pubs opened ... but no, no' a sign: an' +a wheen tailor buddies wha cashed their advance notes huntin' high an' +low! I seen yin o' them ower by M'Lean Street wi' a nicht polis wi 'm +t' see he didna get a heid pit on 'm!--'_sss_! A pant! So I cam' doon +here, an' I hiv been lookin' for sailormen sin' ten o'clock. Man, +they'll no' gang in thae wind-jammers, wi' sae mony new steamers +speirin' hauns, an' new boats giein' twa ten fur th' run tae London.... +Thir's th' only yins I can get, an' ye wadna get them, but that twa's +feart o' th' polis an' Jorgensen wants t' see th' month's advance o' +th' lang yin!" + +The Captain eyes the men and demands of one: + +"Been to sea before?" + +"_Nach robh mhi_? Twa years I wass a 'bow rope' in the _I-on-a_, an' I +wass a wheelhouse in the Allan Line." + +A glance at his discharges confirms his claim, slight as it is, to +seamanship, and Duncan M'Innes, of Sleat, in Skye, after being +cautioned as to his obligations, signs his name and goes forward. + +Patrick Laughlin has considerable difficulty in explaining his absence +from the sea for two years, but the Captain, after listening to a long, +rambling statement... "i' th' yairds ... riggin' planks fur th' +rivitter boys.... Guid-brither a gaffer in Hamilton's, at the 'Poort' +... shoart time" ... gives a quick glance at the alleged seaman's +cropped head and winks solemnly at the Shipping-master, who is signing +the men on. Hands being so scarce, however, Patrick is allowed to +touch the pen. + +One glance at the third suffices. Blue eyes and light colourless hair, +high cheek-bones and lithe limbs, mark the Scandinavian. Strong, wiry +fingers and an indescribable something proclaim the sailor, and though +Von Shmit can hardly say 'yes' in English, he looks the most likely man +of the three. + +The Shipping-master, having concluded his business, steps aboard his +launch, leaving us with a full crew, to wait the weather clearing, and +the fair wind that would lift us down Channel. + + * * * * * + +Daybreak next morning shows promise of better weather, and a light +S.S.E. wind with a comparatively clear sky decides the Old Man to take +the North Channel for it. As soon as there is light enough to mark +their colours, a string of flags brings off our tug-boat from Princes +Pier, and we start to heave up the anchor. A stout coloured man sets +up a 'chantey' in a very creditable baritone, and the crew, sobered now +by the snell morning air, give sheet to the chorus. + + '_Blow, boy-s, blow,--for Califor-ny, oh!_ + _For there's lot's of gold, so I've been told,_ + _On the banks--of Sa-cramen-to!_' + + +The towing-hawser is passed aboard, and the tug takes the weight off +the cable. The nigger having reeled off all he knows of 'Californy,' a +Dutchman sings lustily of 'Sally Brown.' Soon the Mate reports, +"Anchor's short, Sir," and gets the order to weigh. A few more +powerful heaves with the seaman-like poise between each--"_Spent my +mo-ney on Sa-lley Brown!_"--and the shout comes, "Anchor's a-weigh!" + +Down comes the Blue Peter from the fore, whipping at shroud and +backstay in quick descent--our barque rides ground-free, the voyage +begun! + +The light is broad over all now, and the Highland hills loom dark and +misty to the norr'ard. With a catch at the heart, we pass the +well-known places, slowly making way, as if the flood-tide were +striving still to hold us in our native waters. A Customs boat hails, +and asks of us, "Whither bound?" "'Frisco away!" we shout, and they +wave us a brief God-speed. Rounding the Cloch, we meet the coasting +steamers scurrying up the Firth. + +"'Ow'd ye like t' be a stiy-at-'ome, splashin' abaht in ten fathoms, +like them blokes, eh?" the Cockney asks me, with a deep-water man's +contempt in his tone. + +How indeed? Yearning eyes follow their glistening stern-wash as they +speed past, hot-foot for the river berths. + +Tide has made now. A short period of slack water, and the ebb bears us +seaward, past the Cowal shore, glinting in the wintry sunlight, the +blue smoke in Dunoon valley curling upward to Kilbride Hill, past +Skelmorlie Buoy (tolling a doleful benediction), past Rothesay Bay, +with the misty Kyles beyond. The Garroch Head, with a cluster of Clyde +Trust Hoppers, glides abaft the beam, and the blue Cock o' Arran shows +up across the opening water. All is haste and bustle. Aloft, +spider-like figures, black against the tracery of the rigging, cast +down sheets and clew lines in the one place where they must go. Shouts +and hails--"Fore cross-trees, there! Royal buntline inside th' +crin'line, _in_-side, damn ye!" + +"Aye, aye! Stan' fr' under!" + +..._rrup_! A coil of rope hurtling from a height comes rattling to the +rail, to be secured to its own particular belaying-pin. Out of a +seeming chaos comes order. Every rope has its name and its place and +its purpose; and though we have 'sodjers' among us, before Arran is +astern we are ready to take to the wind. Off Pladda we set staysails +and steer to the westward, and, when the wind allows, hoist topsails +and crowd the canvas on her. The short November day has run its course +when we cast off the tow-rope. As we pass the standing tug, all her +hands are hauling the hawser aboard. Soon she comes tearing in our +wake to take our last letters ashore and to receive the Captain's +'blessing.' A heaving-line is thrown aboard, and into a small oilskin +bag are put our hastily written messages and the Captain's material +'blessing.' Shades of Romance! Our last link with civilisation +severed by a bottle of Hennessy's Three Star! + +The tugmen (after satisfying themselves as to the contents of the bag) +give us a cheer and a few parting 'skreichs' on their siren and, +turning quickly, make off to a Norwegian barque, lying-to, off Ailsa +Craig. + +All hands, under the Mates, are hard driven, sweating on sheet and +halyard to make the most of the light breeze. At the wheel I have +little to do; she is steering easily, asking no more than a spoke or +two, when the Atlantic swell, running under, lifts her to the wind. +Ahead of us a few trawlers are standing out to the Skerryvore Banks. +Broad to the North, the rugged, mist-capped Mull of Cantyre looms up +across the heaving water. The breeze is steady, but a falling +barometer tells of wind or mist ere morning. + +Darkness falls, and coast lights show up in all airts. Forward, all +hands are putting a last drag on the topsail halyards, and the voice of +the nigger tells of the fortunes of-- + + '_Renzo--boys, Renzo!_' + + + + +II + +STEERSMANSHIP + +Wee Laughlin, dismissed from the wheel for bad steering, was sitting on +the fore-hatch, a figure of truculence and discontent, mouthing a +statement on the Rights of Man, accompanied by every oath ever heard on +Clydeside from Caird's to Tommy Seath's at Ru'glen. It was not the +loss of his turn that he regretted--he was better here, where he could +squirt tobacco juice at will, than on the poop under the Mate's +eye--but, hardened at the 'Poort' as he was, he could not but feel the +curious glances of his watchmates, lounging about in dog-watch freedom +and making no secret of their contempt of an able seaman who couldn't +steer, to begin with. + +"'Ow wos she 'eadin', young feller, w'en ye--left?" Cockney Hicks, +glancing away from the culprit, was looking at the trembling leaches of +top'gal'nsails, sign of head winds. + +"'Er heid? Ach, aboot Nor' thurty west!" + +"Nor' thirty west? Blimy! Where th' 'ell's that? 'Ere! Give us it +in points! None o' yer bloomin' degrees aboard square-sail, young +feller!" + +"Weel, that's a' th' wye I ken it!" Sullen, mouth twisted askew in the +correct mode of the 'Poort,' defiant. + +"It wis aye degrees in a' th' boats I hiv been in--none o' thae wee +black chats ye ca' p'ints; we niver heeded thim. Degrees, an' 'poort' +an' 'starboord '--t' hell wit' yer 'luffs' an' 'nae highers'!" + +"Blimy!" + +"Aye, blimy! An' I cud steer them as nate's ye like; but I'm no guid +enough fur that swine o' a Mate, aft there!" He spat viciously. "'Nae +higher,' sez he t' me. 'Nae higher, Sur,' says I, pitten' the wheel a +bit doon. 'Up,' says he, 'up, blast ye! Ye're lettin 'r come up i' +th' win',' says he. I pit th' ---- wheel up, keepin' ma 'ee on th' +compass caird; but that wis a fau't tae.... 'Damn ye!' says he; 'keep +yer 'ee on th' to'gallan' leaches,' ... 'Whaur's that?' sez I. 'Oh, +holy smoke!' sez he. 'Whit hiv we got here?' An' he cam' ower and hut +me a kick, an' shouts fur anither haun' t' th' wheel! ... By ----" +mumbling a vicious formula, eyes darkening angrily as he looked aft at +the misty figure on the poop. + +Cockney looked at him curiously. + +"Wot boats 'ave ye bin in, anyway?" he said. "Them boats wot ye never +steered by th' win' before?" + +"---- fine boats! A ban' sicht better nor this bluidy ould wreck. +Boats wi' a guid gaun screw at th' stern av thim! Steamers, av coorse! +This is th' furst bluidy win'-jammer I hae been in, an' by ---- it'll +be th' last! An' that Mate! Him! ... Oh! If I only hid 'm in +Rue-en' Street ... wi' ma crood aboot,"--kicking savagely at a coil of +rope--"he widna be sae smert wi' 'is fit! Goad, no!" + +"Ye' fust win'-jammer, eh?" said Cockney pleasantly. "Oh well--ye'll +l'arn a lot! Blimy, ye'll l'arn a lot before ye sees Rue-hend Street +again. An' look 'ere!"--as if it were a small matter--"if ye cawn't +steer th' bloomin' ship afore we clears th' bloomin' Channel, ye kin +count _hon_ me fer a bloomin' good 'idin'! I ain't agoin' t' take no +other bloomin' bloke's w'eel! Not much, I ain't!" + +"Nor me!" "Nor me!" said the others, and Wee Laughlin, looking round at +the ring of threatening faces, realised that he was up against a +greater power than the Officer tramping the poop beyond. + +"Wull ye no'?" he said, spitting with a great show of bravery. "Wull +ye no'? Mebbe I'll hae sumthin' t' say aboot th' hidin'.... An' ye'll +hae twa av us tae hide whin ye're a' it. I'm nut th' only yin. +There's the Hielan'man ... him wi' th' fush scales on's oilskins. He +nivvir wis in a win'-jammer afore, he telt me; an'----" + +"An' whaat eef I nefer wass in a win'-chammer pefore?" M'Innes, quick +to anger, added another lowering face to the group. "Wait you till I +am sent awaay from th' wheel ... an' thaat iss not yet, no! ... +Hielan'man? ... Hielan'man? ... Tamm you, I wass steerin' by th' win' +pefore you wass porn, aye! ... An' aal t' time you wass in chail, +yess!" + +In the face of further enmity, Wee Laughlin said no more, preferring to +gaze darkly at the unknowing Mate, while his lips made strange +formations--excess of thought! The others, with a few further +threats--a word or two about 'hoodlums' and 'them wot signed for a +man's wage, an' couldn't do a man's work'--returned to their short +dog-watch pacings, two and two, talking together of former voyages and +the way of things on their last ships. + +We were in the North Channel, one day out, with the Mull of Cantyre +just lost to view. The light wind that had carried us out to the Firth +had worked to the westward, to rain and misty weather, and all day we +had been working ship in sight of the Irish coast, making little +headway against the wind. It was dreary work, this laggard setting +out--hanging about the land, tack and tack, instead of trimming yards +to a run down Channel. Out on the open sea we could perforce be +philosophic, and talk of 'the more days, the more dollars'; but here in +crowded waters, with the high crown of Innistrahull mocking at our +efforts, it was difficult not to think of the goodness of a shore life. +As the close of each watch came round the same spirit of discontent +prompted the question of the relief, officer or man. On the poop it +was, "Well, Mister! How's her head now? Any sign of a slant?" On the +foredeck, "'Ere! Wot th' 'ell 'ave ye bin doin' with 'er? Got th' +bloomin' anchor down or wot?" + +At nightfall the rain came down heavily before fitful bursts of chill +wind. Ours was the first watch, and tramping the deck in stiff, new +oilskins, we grumbled loudly at the ill-luck that kept us marking time. + +"I wonder w'y th' Old Man don't put abaht an' run dahn th' Gawges +Channel. Wot's 'e 'angin' abaht 'ere for, hanyw'y? Wot does 'e +expeck?" said Cockney, himself a 'navigator'--by his way of it. + +"Oh, shift o' wind, or something," said I. "I was aft at th' binnacles +an' heard him talkin' t' th' Mate about it. Says th' wind 'll back t' +th' south'ard if th' barometer don't rise. Told the Mate to call him +if the glass went up before twelve. I see old 'Steady-all'" (we are +one day out, but all properly named) "popping up and down the cabin +stairs. He'll be building a reef of burnt matches round the barometers +before that fair wind comes." + +"Sout' vass fair vind, ass ve goes now, aind't id?" asked Dutch John, a +pleasant-faced North German. + +"Fair wind? 'Oo th' 'ell's talkin' 'bout fair win's, an' that Shmit at +th' w'eel? 'Ow d'ye expeck a fair win' with a Finn--a bloody Rooshian +Finn's a-steerin' ov 'er?" Martin, a tough old sea-dog, with years of +service, claimed a hearing. + +"No, an' we won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky steers 'er! Ain't +much that way myself--me bein' a Liverpool man--but there's Collins +there--the nigger.... Niggers is lucky, an' West-country-men, an' +South of Ireland men--if they ain't got black 'air--but Finns! Finns +is the wu'st o' bloody bad luck! ... Knowed a Finn onst wot raised an +'owlin' gale agin us, just a-cos th' Ol' Man called 'im a cross-eyed +son ef a gun fur breakin' th' p'int ov a marlinspike! Raised an +'owlin' gale, 'e did! No, no! Ye won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky +man goes aft. 'Ere, Collins! Your nex' w'eel, ain't it?" + +Collins grinned an affirmative. + +"Right-o! Well, young fellers, ye kin spit on yer 'an's fur squarin' +them yards somewheres between four an' eight bells. Nuthin' like a +nigger for bringin' fair win's.... An' 'e's a speshul kind o' nigger, +too.... Nova Scotiaman, Pictou way ... talks the same lingo as th' +'ilandman ... 'im on th' look-out, there." + +"Not the Gaelic, surely?" said I. + +"Aye, Gaelic. That's it. They speak that lingo out there, black an' +w'ite. Knowed lots o' niggers wot spoke it ... an' chows too!" + +I turned to Collins--a broad, black nigger with thick lips, woolly +hair, white, gleaming teeth--the type! He grinned. + +"Oh yass," he said. "Dat's ri'! Dey speak de Gaelic dere--dem +bluenose Scotchmen, an' Ah larn it when Ah wass small boy. Ah doan' +know much now ... forgot it mos' ... but Ah know 'nuff t' ask dat boy +Munro how de wass. _Hoo! Ho!! Hoo!!!_ 'Cia mar tha thu nis,' Ah +says, an' he got so fright', he doan' be seasick no mo'!" + +A wondrous cure! + +At ten Collins relieved the wheel and we looked for the shift that old +Martin had promised, but there was no sign of it--no lift to the misty +horizon, no lessening in the strength of the squalls, now heavy with a +smashing of bitter sleet. Bunched up against the helm, a mass of +oilskins glistening in the compass light, our 'lucky man' scarce seemed +to be doing anything but cower from the weather. Only the great eyes +of him, peering aloft from under the peak of his sou'wester, showed +that the man was awake; and the ready turns of the helm, that brought a +steering tremor to the weather leaches, marked him a cunning steersman, +whichever way his luck lay. + +Six bells struck, the Mate stepped below to the barometers, and a gruff +"Up! up!" (his way of a whisper) accompanied the tapping of the +aneroid. There he found encouragement and soon had the Old Man on +deck, peering with him in the wind's eye at the brightening glare of +Innistrahull Light out in the west. + +"Clearing, eh? And the glass risin'," said the Old Man. "Looks like +nor'-west! Round she goes, Mister: we'll lose no more time. Stan' by +t' wear ship!" + +"Aye, aye, Sir! Stan' by t' square mainyards, the watch, there!" + +Shouting as he left the poop, the Mate mustered his men at the braces. + +"Square mainyards! That's th' talk," said old Martin, throwing the +coils down with a swing. "Didn't Ah tell ye it wos a nigger as'd bring +a fair win'!" + +"But it ain't fair yet," said I. "Wind's west as ever it was; only th' +Old Man's made up his mind t' run her down th' George's Channel. Might +ha' done that four hours ago!" + +"Wot's th' use o' talkin' like that? 'Ow th' 'ell could 'e make up 'is +min' wi' a Rooshian Finn at th' w'eel, eh? Don't tell me! Ah knows as +niggers is lucky an' Finns ain't; an' don't ye give me none o' yer +bloody sass, young feller, cos ..." ("Haul away mainyards, there!") ... +"_Ho! ... io ... io...._ Ho! round 'em in, me sons. ... _Ho! ... io +... io...._ Twenty days t' th' Line, boys! ... _Ho ... io ... ho!_" + +A hard case, Martin! + +Turning on heel, we left Innistrahull to fade away on the quarter, and, +under the freshening breeze, made gallant steering for the nigger. +This was more like the proper way to go to sea, and when eight bells +clanged we called the other watch with a rousing shout. + +"Out, ye bloomin' Jonahs! Turn out, and see what the port watch can do +for ye. A fair wind down Channel, boys! Come on! Turn out, ye hungry +Jonahs, and coil down for your betters!" + + * * * * * + +After two days of keen sailing, running through the Channel traffic, we +reached the edge of soundings. The nor'-west breeze still held, though +blowing light, and under a spread of canvas we were leaning away to the +south'ard on a course for the Line Crossing. We sighted a large +steamer coming in from the west, and the Old Man, glad of a chance to +be reported, hauled up to 'speak' her. In hoists of gaily coloured +bunting we told our name and destination, and a wisp of red and white +at the liner's mast acknowledged our message. As she sped past she +flew a cheering signal to wish us a 'pleasant voyage,' and then lowered +her ensign to ours as a parting salute. + +"Keep her off to her course again--sou'-west, half south!" ordered the +Old Man when the last signal had been made. + +"Aff tae her coorse ag'in, Sur! Sou'-west, hauf south, Sur!" + +At sound of the steersman's answer I turned from my job at the signal +locker. Wee Laughlin, eyes on the weather clew of the royals, was +learning! + + + + +III + +THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK + +The guttering lamp gave little light in the half-deck; its trimming had +been neglected on this day of storm, so we sat in semi-gloom listening +to the thunder of seas outside. On the grimy deal table lay the +remains of our supper--crumbs of broken sea-biscuits, a scrap of greasy +salt horse, dirty plates and pannikins, a fork stabbed into the deal to +hold the lot from rolling, and an overturned hook-pot that rattled from +side to side at each lurch of the ship, the dregs of the tea it had +held dripping to the weltering floor. For once in a way we were +miserably silent. We sat dourly together, as cheerless a quartette as +ever passed watch below. "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" +asked Hansen, throwing off his damp jacket and boots and turning into +his bunk. "'A life on th' ocean wave,' eh? Egad! here's one who +wishes he had learned to drive a wagon!" + +"And another," said Eccles. "That--or selling matches on th' highway! +... Come on, Kid! Get a move on ye and clear away! ... And mind ye +jamm the gear off in the locker. No more o' these tricks like ye did +in Channel--emptyin' half the bloomin' whack into th' scupper! You +jamm the gear off proper, or I'll lick ye!" + +Young Munro, the 'peggy' of our watch, swallowed hard and set about his +bidding. His small features were pinched and drawn, and a ghastly +pallor showed that a second attack of sea-sickness was not far off. He +staggered over to the table and made a half-hearted attempt to put the +gear away, + +"What's th' matter with ye?" said Eccles roughly. "Ye've been long +enough away from ye'r mammy t' be able t' keep ye'r feet. A fortnight +at sea, an' still comin' th' 'Gentle Annie'! You look sharp now, an' +don't----" + +"Eccles!" + +"Eh?" + +"You let the Kid alone," said Hansen in a dreamy, half-sleepy tone. +"You let the Kid alone, or I'll twist your damn neck! Time enough for +you to start chinnin' when your elders are out o' sight. You shut up!" + +"Oh, all right! Ye needn't get ratty. If you want t' pamper the +bloomin' Kid, it's none of my business, I s'pose.... All the same, you +took jolly good care I did _my_ 'peggy' last voyage! There was no +pamperin' that I remember!" + +"Different!" said Hansen, still in the same sleepy tone. "Different! +You were always big enough an' ugly enough t' stand the racket. You +leave the Kid alone!" + +Eccles turned away to his bunk and, seeking his pipe, struck match +after match in a vain attempt to light the damp tobacco. Now and then +the ship would falter in her swing--an ominous moment of silence and +steadiness--before the shock of a big sea sent her reeling again. The +crazy old half-deck rocked and groaned at the battery as the sea ran +aft, and a spurt of green water came from under the covering board. +Some of the sea-chests worked out of the lashings and rattled down to +leeward. Eccles and I triced them up, then stowed the supper gear in +the locker. + +"A few more big 'uns like that," said I, "and this rotten old house 'll +go a-voyagin'! ... Wonder it has stood so long." + +"Do ye think there's danger?" asked the Kid, in a falter, and turning +terrified eyes on one after another. + +"Course," said Hansen--we had thought him asleep--"course there is! +That's what ye came here for, isn't it? This is when th' hero stands +on th' weather taffrail, graspin' th' tautened backst'y an' hurlin' +defiance at th' mighty elements--'Nick Carter,' chap. one!" + +Eccles and I grinned. Munro took heart. + +"Danger," still the drowsy tone, "I should think there is! Why, any +one o' these seas might sweep the harness-cask and t'morrow's dinner +overboard! Any one of 'em might----" + +The door swung to with a crash, a blast of chill wind and rain blew in +on us, the lamp flickered and flared, a dripping oilskin-clad figure +clambered over the washboard. + +"Door! door!" we yelled as he fumbled awkwardly with the handle. + +"Oh, shut up! Ye'd think it was the swing-door of a pub. t' hear ye +shouting!" He pulled heavily, and the broken-hinged baulk slammed into +place. It was Jones, of the other watch, come in to turn us out. + +"Well, I'm hanged!" He looked around the house--at the litter on the +floor, at the spurting water that lashed across with the lurch of her. +"Why don't some of ye bale the place out 'stead of standing by t' shout +'Door, door!' when there's no need? Damn! Look at that!" She lurched +again. A foot or more of broken water dashed from side to side, +carrying odds of loose gear with it. "Egad! The port watch for lazy +sojers--every time! Why don't ye turn to an' dry the half-deck out? +Oh no; not your way! It's 'Damn you, Jack--I'm all right!' with you +chaps. Goin' on deck again soon, eh? Why should ye dry up for the +other watch, eh? ... Oh! all right. Just you----" + +"Oh, dry up yourself, Jones!" Hansen sat up in his bunk and turned his +legs out. "What you making all the noise about? We've been balin' and +balin', and it's no use! No use at all ... with that covering board +working loose and the planks opening out at every roll.... What's up, +anyway? ... All hands, eh?" + +"Yes. 'All hands wear ship' at eight bells! We've just set the fore +lower tops'l. Think we must be getting near the Western Islands by the +way th' Old Man's poppin' up and down. It's pipin' outside! Blowin' +harder than ever, and that last big sea stove in the weather side of +the galley. The watch are at it now, planking up and that.... Well, +I'm off! Ye've quarter an hour t' get your gear on. Lively, now! ..." +At the door he turned, eyeing the floor, now awash. "Look here, young +'un"--to poor, woebegone Munro--"the Mate says you're not to come on +deck. You stay here and bale up, an' if the damn place isn't dry when +we come below I'll hide the life out o' ye! ... Oh, it's no use +screwin' your face up. 'Cry baby' business is no good aboard a packet! +You buck up an' bale the house ... or ... look out!" He heaved at the +door, sprawled over, and floundered out into the black night. + +Munro turned a white, despairing face on us elders. We had no support +for him. Hansen was fumbling with his belt. I was drawing on my long +boots. Both of us seemed not to have heard. This was the way of the +half-deck. With Eccles it had been different. He was only a second +voyager, a dog-watch at sea--almost a 'greenhorn.' There was time +enough for him to 'chew the rag' when he had got the length of keeping +a regular 'wheel and look out.' Besides, it was a 'breach' for him to +start bossing about when there were two of his elders in the house. We +could fix him all right! + +Ah! But Jones! ... It was not that we were afraid of him. Either of +us would have plugged him one at the word 'Go!' if it had been a +straight affair between us. But this was no business of ours. Jones +was almost a man. In a month or two his time would be out. There +could be no interference, not a word could be said; it was--the way of +the half-deck. + +Swaying, sailor-like, on the reeling deck, we drew on our oilskins and +sea-boots, buckled our belts, tied down the flaps of our sou'westers, +and made ready. While we were at it Munro started on his task. He +filled the big bucket, dragged it half-way to the door, then sat down +heavily with a low cry of dismay. + +"What's the matter, Kid, eh?" said Hansen kindly. "Got the blues, eh? +Buck up, man! Blue's a rotten colour aboard ship! Here, hand me the +bucket!" + +He gripped the handle, stood listening for a chance, then swung the +door out an inch or two, and tipped the bucket. + +"It ... it's ... not ... that," said the youngster. "It's ... +s-s-staying in here w-when you fellows are on d-deck! ... Ye ... +s-said th' house m-might go ... any time! ... Let me come!..." + +"No, no! Th' Mate said you weren't t' come on deck! You stay here! +You'd only be in th' way! You'll be all right here; the rotten old box +'ll stand a few gales yet! ... What's that?" + +Above the shrilling of the gale we heard the Mate's bull roar: "All ... +hands ... wear ... ship!" + +We took our chance, swung the door to, and dashed out. Dismayed for a +moment--the sudden change from light to utter darkness--we brought up, +grasping the life-lines in the waist, and swaying to meet the wild +lurches of the ship. As our eyes sobered to the murk we saw the lift +of the huge seas that thundered down the wind. No glint of moon or +star broke through the mass of driving cloud that blackened the sky to +windward; only when the gleam of a breaking crest spread out could we +mark the depth to which we drove, or the height when we topped a wall +of foaming water. The old barque was labouring heavily, reeling to it, +the decks awash to our knees. Only the lower tops'ls and a stays'l +were set; small canvas, but spread enough to keep her head at the right +angle as wave after wave swept under or all but over her. "Stations!" +we heard the Mate calling from his post at the lee fore braces. "Lay +along here! Port watch, forrard!" + +We floundered through the swirl of water that brimmed the decks and +took our places. Aft, we could see the other watch standing by at the +main. Good! It would be a quick job, soon over! The Old Man was at +the weather gangway, conning the ship and waiting for a chance. Below +him, all hands stood at his orders--twenty-three lives were in his +keeping at the moment; but there was no thought of that--we knew our +Old Jock, we boasted of his sea cunning. At length the chance came; a +patch of lesser violence after a big sea had been met and surmounted. +The sure, steady eye marked the next heavy roller. There was time and +distance! ... "Helm up, there!" (Old Jock for a voice!) + +Now her head paid off, and the order was given, 'Square mainyards!' +Someone wailed a hauling cry and the great yards swung round, tops'l +lifting to the quartering wind. As the wind drew aft she gathered +weight and scudded before the gale. Seas raced up and crashed their +bulk at us when, at the word, we strained together to drag the +foreyards from the backstays. Now she rolled the rails under--green, +solid seas to each staggering lift. At times it seemed as if we were +all swept overboard there was no hold to the feet! We stamped and +floundered to find a solid place to brace our feet and knees against; +trailed out on the ropes--all afloat--when she scooped the ocean up, +yet stood and hauled when the chance was ours. A back roll would come. +"Hold all! ... Stand to it, sons! ..." With a jerk that seemed to +tear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. There +was no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." Then, to us +again: "Hay ... o ... Ho.... Hay ... o! ... Round 'em in, boys! ..." +Quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran in +the slack. + +"Vast haulin' foreyards! Turn all and lay aft!" We belayed the ropes, +and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. The +sea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail with +great fury. Twice the Second Mate, who was 'tending the weather +braces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "Haul +awaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post. +"Haul, you!" + +We dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again we +stood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to. + +"All hands off the deck!" roared the Mate when the headyards were +steadied. "Lay aft, all hands!" + +Drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in our +scramble for safe quarters--some to the poop, some to the main rigging. +We knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that. + +"All ready, Sir," said the Mate when he came aft to report. "All hands +are off the deck!" + +"Aye, aye!" Old Jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly for +a chance to put his helm down. There was a perceptible lull in the +wind, but the sea was high as ever. The heavy, racing clouds had +broken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through which +shone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for a +moment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over. + +It seemed a long time before the Old Man saw the 'smooth' he was +waiting for. A succession of big seas raced up, broke, and poured +aboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to the +trough. Now--the chance! "Ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "Stand +by, all!" Her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way was +well timed. + +Suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone on +the wet decks. The half-deck door was swung out--a figure blocked the +light, sprawling over the washboard--Munro! "Back!" we yelled. "Go +back!" + +There was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ran +forward, then aft, bewildered. + +The ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. Already her head was +driving down before the coming of the wave that was to check her way. +In a moment it would be over us. The Mate leapt to the ladder, but, as +he balanced, we saw one of the men in the main rigging slide down a +backstay, drop heavily on deck, recover, and dash on towards the boy. + +Broad on the beam of her, the sea tore at us and brimmed the decks--a +white-lashing fury of a sea, that swept fore and aft, then frothed in a +whelming torrent to leeward. + +When we got forward through the wash of it, we found Jones crouching +under the weather rail. One arm was jammed round the bulwark +stanchion, the wrist stiffened and torn by the wrench, the other held +the Kid--a limp, unconscious figure. + +"Carry him aft," said Jones. "I think ... he's ... all right ... only +half drowned!" He swayed as he spoke, holding his hand to his head, +gasping, and spitting out. "D-damn young swine! What ... he ... +w-want t' come on deck f-for? T-told ... him t' ... s-stay below!" + + + + +IV + +THE 'DEAD HORSE' + +Fine weather, if hot as the breath of Hades, and the last dying airs of +the nor'-east trades drifting us to the south'ard at a leisured three +knots. + +From the first streak of daylight we had been hard at work finishing up +the general overhaul cf gear and rigging that can only be done in the +steady trade winds. Now it was over; we could step out aloft, sure of +our foothold; all the treacherous ropes were safe in keeping of the +'shakin's cask,' and every block and runner was working smoothly, in +readiness for the shifting winds of the doldrums that would soon be +with us. + +The work done, bucket and spar were manned and, for the fourth time +that day, the sun-scorched planks and gaping seams of the deck were +sluiced down--a job at which we lingered, splashing the limpid water as +fast the wetted planks steamed and dried again. A grateful coolness +came with the westing of the tyrant sun, and when our miserable evening +meal had been hurried through we sought the deck again, to sit under +the cool draught of the foresail watching the brazen glow that attended +the sun's setting, the glassy patches of windless sea, the faint +ripples that now and then swept over the calm--the dying breath of a +stout breeze that had lifted us from 27° North. What talk there was +among us concerned our voyage, a never-failing topic; and old Martin, +to set the speakers right, had brought his 'log'--a slender +yardstick--from the forecastle. + +"... ty-seven ... ty-eight ... twenty-nine," he said, counting a row of +notches. "Thirty days hout t'morrer, an' th' 'dead 'orse' is hup t' +day, sons!" + +"'Dead 'oss' hup t' dye? 'Ow d'ye mike that aht?" said 'Cockney' +Hicks, a man of importance, now promoted to bo'sun. "Fust Sunday we +wos in Channel, runnin' dahn th' Irish lights, worn't it?" + +"Aye!" + +"Secon' Sunday we wos routin' abaht in them strong southerly win's, +hoff th' Weste'n Isles?" + +"That's so," said Martin, patting his yard-stick, "Right-o!" + +"Third Sunday we 'ad th' trides, runnin' south; lawst Sunday wos fourth +Sunday hout, an' this 'ere's Friday--'peasoup-dye,' ain't it? 'Ow d'ye +mike a month o' that? 'Dead 'oss' ain't up till t'morrer, I reckon!" + +"Well, ye reckons wrong, bo'sun! Ye ain't a-countin' of th' day wot we +lay at anchor at th' Tail o' th' Bank!" + +"Blimy, no! I'd forgotten that dye!" + +"No! An' I tell ye th' 'dead 'orse' is hup, right enuff. I don't make +no mistake in my log.... Look at 'ere," pointing to a cross-cut at the +head of his stick. "That's the dye wot we lay at anchor--w'en you an' +me an' the rest ov us wos proper drunk. 'Ere we starts away," turning +to another side; "them up strokes is 'ead win's, an' them downs is +fair; 'ere's where we got that blow hoff th' Weste'n Isles," putting +his finger-nail into a deep cleft; "that time we carries away th' +topmas' stays'l sheet; an' 'ere's th' trade win's wot we're 'avin' now! +... All k'rect, I tell ye. Ain't no mistakes 'ere, sons!" He put the +stick aside the better to fill his pipe. + +"Vat yo' calls dem holes in de top, Martin, _zoone_? Dot vass +sometings, aind't id?" + +Vootgert, the Belgian, picked the stick up, turning it over carelessly. + +Martin snatched it away. + +"A course it's 'sometings,' ye Flemish 'og! If ye wants to know +pertiklar, them 'oles is two p'un' o' tebaccer wot I had sence I come +aboard. Don't allow no Ol' Man t' do _me_ in the bloomin' hye w'en it +comes t' tottin' th' bill! ... I'll watch it! I keeps a good tally ov +wot I gets, tho' I can't read nor write like them young 'know-alls' +over there" (Martin had no love for 'brassbounders'), "them wot orter +be aft in their proper place, an' not sittin' 'ere, chinnin' wi' th' +sailormen!" + +"Who's chinnin'?" said Jones, Martin's particular enemy. "Ain't said a +word! Not but what I wanted to ... sittin' here, listenin' to a lot of +bally rot about ye'r dead horses an' logs an' that!" + +Jones rose with a great pantomime of disgust (directed especially at +the old man), and went aft, leaving Munro and me to weather Martin's +rage. + +"Oh, shut up, Martin!" said the bo'sun. "They ain't doin' no 'arm! +Boys is boys!" + +"Ho no, they ain't, bo'sun: not in this ship, they ain't. Boys is men, +an' men's old beggars, 'ere! I don't 'old wi' them a-comin' forrard +'ere at awl! A place fer everything, an' everybody 'as 'is place, I +says! Captin' on the bloomin' poop o' her, an' cook t' th' foresheet! +That's shipshape an' Bristol fashion, ain't it?" + +"That's so, that's so! ... But them young 'uns is 'ere for +hin-for-mashun, eh?" + +Martin grumbled loudly and turned to counting his notches. "Know-alls! +That's wot _they_ is--ruddy know-alls! Told me I didn't know wot a +fair win' wos!" he muttered as he fingered his 'log.' + +"'Dead 'oss?'" said the bo'sun, turning to Munro. "'Dead 'oss' is th' +fust month out, w'en ye're workin' for ye'r boardin'-mawster. 'E gets +ye'r month's advawnce w'en ye sails, an' ye've got to work that hoff +afore ye earns any pay!" + +"Who vass ride your 'dead 'oss,' Martin?" asked the Belgian when quiet +was restored. + +"Oh, Jemmy Grant; 'im wot 'as an 'ouse in Springfield Lane. Come in t' +th' Clyde in th' _Loch Ness_ from Melb'un--heighty-five days, an' a +damn good passage too, an' twel' poun' ten of a pay day! Dunno' 'ow it +went.... Spent it awl in four or five days. I put up at Jemmy Grant's +for a week 'r two arter th' money was gone, an' 'e guv' me five bob an' +a new suit of oilskins out 'er my month's advawnce on this 'ere 'ooker!" + +"Indeed to goodness, now! That iss not pad at all, indeed," said John +Lewis, our brawny Welshman. "I came home in th' _Wanderer_, o' St. +Johnss, an' wass paid off with thirty-fife poun'ss, I tell 'oo. I +stayed in Owen Evanss' house in Great Clyde Street, an' when I went +there I give him ten poun'ss t' keep for me. 'Indeed, an' I will, m' +lad,' he sayss, 'an' 'oo can have it whenever 'oo likes,' he sayss.... +Damn him for a rogue, I tell 'oo!" + +Martin laughed. "Well, ye was soft. Them blokes' bizness is keepin', +ain't it?" + +"Iss, indeed! Well, I tell 'oo, I got in trouble with a policeman in +th' Broomielaw. It took four o' them to run me in, indeed!" pleasantly +reminiscent; "an' the next mornin' I wass put up for assaultin' th' +police. 'I don't know nothin' about it,' I sayss, when the old fella' +asked me. 'Thirty shillins' or fourteen days,' he sayss! ... Well, I +didn't haf any money left, but I told a policeman, and he said he would +send for Owen Evanss.... After a while Evanss come to the office, an' +they took me in. I was quite quiet, indeed, bein' sober, I tell +'oo.... 'Owen, _machgen-i_,' I sayss, 'will 'oo pay the thirty +shillin's out of the ten poun'ss I give 'oo?' 'What ten poun'ss?' he +sayss. 'What ten poun'ss?' I sayss. '_Diwedd-i_, the ten poun'ss I +give 'oo t' keep for me,' I sayss. 'Ten poun'ss,' he sayss, 'ten +poun'ss to keep for 'oo, an' it iss two weeks' board an' lodgin' 'oo +are owin' me, indeed!' 'Damn 'oo!' I sayss. 'Did I not give 'oo ten +poun'ss when I wass paid off out of the _Wanderer_, an' 'oo said 'oo +would keep it for ne and give it back again when I wanted it?' I +sayss.... 'What are 'oo talkin' about?' he sayss. ''Oo must be drunk, +indeed!' ... 'Have 'oo got a receipt for it, m' lad?' sayss the +Sergeant. 'No, indeed,' I sayss. 'I didn't ask him for a receipt.' +... 'Oh,' he sayss, 'we've heard this pefore,' he sayss, shuttin' th' +book an' signin' to the policeman to put me away. I made for Owen +Evanss, but there wass too many policemen indeed.... So I had to serve +the month, I tell 'oo!" John stroked his beard mournfully, muttering, +"Ten poun'ss, indeed! Ten poun'ss, py damm!" + +"An' didn't ye git square wi' th' bloke wot done ye?" asked the bo'sun. + +"Oh, iss! Iss, indeed!" John brightened up at thought of it. "When I +came out I went straight to Great Clyde Street an' give him th' best +hidin' he effer got, I tell 'oo! I took ten poun'ss of skin an' hair +out of him pefore th' police came. Fine! I think it wass fine, an' I +had to do two months for that.... When I come out the street wass full +of policemen, indeed, so I signed in this barque an' sold my advance +note to a Jew for ten pob!" + +Ten shillings! For what, if the discounter saw to it that his man went +to sea, was worth three pounds when the ship had cleared the Channel! +On the other hand, Dan Nairn, a Straits of Canso sailor-farmer (mostly +farmer), had something to say. + +"Waall, boy-ees, they ain't awl like that, I guess! I came acraus +caow-punchin' on a Donalds'n cattle boat, an' landed in Glasgow with +damn all but a stick ov chewin' tebaccer an' two dallars, Canad'n, in +my packet. I put up with a Scowwegian in Centre Street; a stiff good +feller too! Guess I was 'baout six weeks or more in 'is 'aouse, an' he +give me a tidy lot 'er fixin's--oilskins an' sea-boots an' awl--out 'er +my month's advance." + +"Oh, some is good and some ain't," said Martin. "Ah knowed a feller +wot 'ad an 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse in Tiger Bay. Awl th' stiffs in +Cardiff use' ter lay back on 'im w'en nobody else 'ud give 'em 'ouse +room--hoodlums and Dagos an' Greeks wot couldn't get a ship proper. 'E +'ad rooms in 'is 'ouse fitted up wi' bunks like a bloomin' fo'cs'le, +ah' 'is crowd got their grub sarved out, same's they wos at sea. Every +tide time 'e wos down at th' pier-'ead wi' six or seven of 'is +gang--'ook-pots an' pannikins, an' bed an' piller--waitin' their chanst +ov a 'pier-'ead jump.' That wos th' only way 'e could get 'is men +away, 'cos they worn't proper sailormen as c'd go aboard a packet 'n +ast for a sight like you an' me. Most of 'em 'ad bad discharges or +dead-'un's papers or somethin'! 'Pier-'ead jumps,' they wos, an' they +wouldn't never 'a' got a ship, only f'r that feller an' 'is 'ard-up +boardin'-'ouse." + +Martin picked up his precious 'log' and turned to go below. "Anyways, +good or bad," he said, "them 'sharks' 'as got my ol' iron fer the last +month, an' if this worn't a starvation bloomin' Scotch packet, an' a +crew of bloomin' know-alls, fixing me with a fancy curl of lip, we'd a +_chanteyed_ th' 'dead 'orse' aft t'night an' ast th' Ol' Man t' splice +the mainbrace." + +He passed into the forecastle, and through the open door we could hear +him sing a snatch of the 'dead horse' _chantey_:-- + + "_But now th' month is up, ol' turk!_ + (_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) + _Get up, ye swine, an' look fer work!_ + (_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_) + + "_Get up, ye swine, an' look fer graft!_ + (_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) + _While we lays on an' yanks ye aft!_ + (_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_)" + + + + +V + +'SEA PRICE' + +At first weak and baffling, the south-east trades strengthened and blew +true as we reached away to the south'ard under all sail. Already we +had forgotten the way of bad weather. It seemed ages since we had last +tramped the weltering decks, stamping heavily in our big sea-boots for +warmth, or crouching in odd corners to shelter from the driven spray, +the bitter wind and rain. Now we were fine-weather voyagers--like the +flying-fish and the albacore, and bonita, that leapt the sea we sailed +in. The tranquil days went by in busy sailor work; we spent the nights +in a sleepy languor, in semi-wakefulness. In watch below we were +assured of our rest, and even when 'on deck'--save for a yawning pull +at sheet or halyard when the Mate was jealous at our idling, or a brief +spell at wheel or look out--were at liberty to seek out a soft plank +and lie back, gazing up at the gently swaying mastheads till sleep came +again. Higher and higher, as the days went by, the southern stars rose +from the sea-line, while--in the north--homely constellations dipped +and were lost to view. Night by night we had the same true breeze, the +sea unchanged, the fleecy trade clouds forming on the sea-line--to fade +ere they had reached the zenith. There seemed no end to our pleasured +progress! Ah, it is good to be alive and afloat where the trades blow. +Down south, there! + +But, in spite of the fine weather and the steady breeze, there were +signs of what our voyage would be when the 'barefoot days' were done. +Out beyond the clear sky and tender clouds, the old hands saw the +wraith of the rugged Cape that we had yet to weather. The impending +wrestle with the rigours of 'the Horn' sent them to their preparations +when we had scarce crossed the Line. Old Martin was the fore hand. +Now, his oilskins hung out over the head, stretched on hoops and +broomsticks, glistening in a brave new coat of oil and blacking. Then +Vootgert and Dutch John took the notion, and set to work by turns at a +canvas wheel-coat that was to defy the worst gale that ever blew. +Young Houston--canny Shetlander--put aside his melodeon, and clicked +and clicked his needles at a famous pair of north-country hose. Welsh +John and M'Innes--'the Celtic twins'--clubbed their total outfit and +were busy overhauling, while Bo'sun Hicks spent valuable time and +denied us his yarns while he fortified his leaky bunk by tar and strips +of canvas. Even Wee Laughlin, infected by the general industry of the +forecastle, was stitching away (long, outward-bound stitches) at a +cunning arrangement of trousers that would enable him to draw on his +two pairs at once. All had some preparation to make--all but we +brassbounders! + +We saw no farther than the fine weather about us. Most had been 'round +the Horn' before, and we should have known but there was no old +'steady-all' to ballast our cock-a-boat, and we scorned the wisdom of +the forecastle. 'Good enough t' be goin' on with,' and 'come day, go +day'--were our mottoes in the half-deck. Time enough, by and by, when +the weather showed a sign! We had work enough when on duty to keep us +healthy! Fine days and 'watch below' were meant for lazying--for old +annuals of the B.O.P., for Dicks's Standards, for the Seaside library! +Everyone knows that the short dog-watches were meant for sing-song and +larking, and, perhaps, a fight, or two! What did we care if Old Martin +and his mates were croak, croak, croakin' about 'standin' by' and +settin' th' gear handy? We were 'hard cases,' all of us, even young +Munro and Burke, the 'nipper' of the starboard watch! _We_ didn't +care! _We_ could stand the racket! _Huh!_ + +So we lazied the fine days away, while our sea harness lay stiffening +in the dark lockers. + +Subtly, almost imperceptibly, the weather changed. There was a chill +in the night air; it was no longer pleasant to sleep on deck. The +stars were as bright, the sky as clear, the sea as smooth; but when the +sun had gone, damp vapours came and left the deck chill and clammy to +the touch.... 'Barefoot days' were over! + +Still and all, the 'times' were good enough. If the flying-fish no +longer swept from under the bows in a glistening shoal, the trades yet +served us well. The days drew on. The day when we shifted the patched +and threadbare tropic sails and bent our stoutest canvas in their +place; the day when Sann'y Armstrong, the carpenter, was set to make +strong weatherboards for the cabin skylights; the day--a cloudy +day--when the spars were doubly lashed and all spare fittings sent +below. We had our warning; there were signs, a plenty! + +All too soon our sunny days came to an end. The trades petered out in +calms and squally weather. Off the River Plate a chill wind from the +south set us to 'tack and tack,' and when the wind hauled and let us +free to our course again, it was only to run her into a gale on the +verge of the 'Forties.' Then for three days we lay hove-to, labouring +among heavy seas. + +The 'buster' fairly took our breath away. The long spell of light +winds had turned us unhandy for storm work. The swollen ropes, +stiffened in the block-sheaves, were stubborn when we hauled; the wet, +heavy canvas that thrashed at us when stowing sail proved a fighting +demon that called for all our strength; the never-ending small work in +a swirl of lashing water found us slow and laboured at the task. + +All this was quickly noted by the Mate, and he lost no time in putting +us to rights. Service in New Bedford whalers had taught him the +'Yankee touch,' and, as M'Innes put it, he was 'no' slow' with his big +hands. + +"Lay along here, sons," he would roar, standing to the braces.... "Lay +along, sons;--ye know what sons I mean! ... Aft here, ye lazy hounds, +and see me make 'sojers,' sailors!!" + +With his language we had no great grievance. We could appreciate a man +who said things--sailor-like and above board--but when it came to +knocking a man about (just because he was 'goin' t' get his oilskins,' +when the order was 'aloft, an' furl') there were ugly looks here and +there. We had our drilling while the gale lasted, and, when it +cleared, our back muscles were 'waking up.' + +Now--with moderate weather again--famous preparations began in the +half-deck; everyone of us was in haste to put his weather armour to +rights. Oilskins, damp and sticking, were dragged from dark corners. +"Rotten stuff, anyway. We'll have no more of Blank's outfits, after +this," we said, as we pulled and pinched them apart. "Oh, damn! I +forgot about that stitchin' on the leg of my sea-boot," said one. +"Wish I'd had time t' put a patch on here," said another, ruefully +holding out his rubbers. "Too far gone for darning," said Eccles. +"Here goes," and he snipped the feet part from a pair of stockings and +tied a ropeyarn at the cut! + +We were jeered at from the forecastle. Old Martin went about +_clucking_ in his beard. At every new effort on our part, his head +went nod, nod, nodding. "Oh, them brassbounders!" he would say. "Them +ruddy 'know-alls'! Wot did I tell ye, eh? Wot did I tell 'em, w'en we +was a-crossin' th' Line, eh? An' them 's th' fellers wot'll be +a-bossin' of you an' me, bo'sun! Comin' th' 'hard case,' like the big +feller aft there!" + +Martin was right, and we felt properly humbled when we sneaked forward +in search of assistance. Happily, in Dan Nairn we found a cunning +cobbler, and for a token in sea currency--a plug or two of hard +tobacco--he patched and mended our boots. With the oilskins, all our +smoothing and pinching was hopeless. The time was gone when we could +scrub the sticky mess off and put a fresh coating of oil on the fabric. + +Ah! We pulled long faces now and thought that, perhaps, sing-song and +larking, and Dicks's Standards and the Seaside Library are not good +value for a frozen soaking off the Horn! + +But there was still a haven to which we careless mariners could put in +and refit. The Captain's 'slop chest'--a general store, where oilskins +were 'sea priced' at a sovereign, and sea-boots could be had for thirty +shillings! At these figures they would have stood till they crumbled +in a sailor-town shop window, but 50° S. is a world away from +Broomielaw Corner, and we were glad enough to be served, even if old +Niven, the steward, did pass off old stock on us. + +"Naw! Ye'll no' get ye'r pick! Yell jist tak' whit 's gien' ye ... or +nane ava'!" + +Wee Laughlin was a large buyer. He--of us all--had come to sea 'same +'s he was goin' t' church!' A pier-head jump! So far, he had borrowed +and borrowed, but even good-natured Dutch John was learning English, +and would say, "Jou come to _mein haus, und_ stay mit me," or "_Was +für_ jou nod trink less _und_ buy somet'ings," at each wily approach. + +On the day when 'slops' were served out, the Pride of Rue-en' Street +was first at the cabin door. As he was fitted and stepped along +forward with his purchases, the bo'sun saw him, and called: "Hello! +Oilskins an' sea-boots an' new shirts, eh? I see ye're outward bound, +young feller!" Laughlin leered and winked cunning-like. + +"What d'ye mean by outward bound," asked Munro. "We're all outward +bound, an't we?" + +"Of course; of course," said Hicks. "All outward bound! But w'en I +says it that wye, I mean as Lawklin is a-spendin' of 'is 'dibs,' ... +meanin' t' desert w'en we gets out! If 'e don't 'op it as soon as we +anchors in 'Frisco Bay, ye kin call me a ruddy Dutchman!" + +"Desert? But that's serious?" + +"Ho no! Not there it ain't! Desertin' 's as easy as rollin' off a +log, ... out there! D'ye think th' queer-fella' is goin' t' pay them +prices for 'is kit, if 'e wos goin' t' stop by her in 'Frisco? Not +much 'e ain't! An' ye kin tike it as a few more is goin' t' 'op it, or +ye wouldn't see so many of 'em aft 'ere for their bloomin' 'sundries'!" + +"_Wel, wel_, now! These prices is not pad, indeed," said Welsh John, +who had joined us. "I haf paid more than three shillin' for a knife +pefore!" + +"_Heh! Heh!_" The bo'sun laughed. "When a 'Taffy' that's a-buyin' +says that, ye may say it's right! ... But, blimy--the boot's on th' +other foot w'en it's 'Taffy' as is a-sellin'! _Heh! Heh!_ There wos +Old Man Lewis of th' _Vanguard_, o' Liverpool, that I signed in! +Blimy! 'e could tell ye wot 'sea price' is!" + +"Good ol' 'sea price,'" said Martin. "Many an' 'appy 'ome, an' garden +wit' a flagstaff, is built o' 'sea price'!" + +"Right, ol' son! Right," continued the bo'sun. "Old Man Lewis owned a +row of 'em, ... down in Fishguard.... I sailed in th' _Vanguard_ out +o' Liverpool t' Noo York an' then down south, 'ere--boun' t' Callao. +Off th' Falklan's, the Old Man opens out 'is bloomin' slop-chest an' +starts dealin'. A pound for blankits wot ye c'd shoot peas through, +an' fifteen bob for serge shirts--same kind as th' Sheenies sells a' +four an' tanner in th' Mawrsh! Of course, nobody 'ud buy 'em in at +that price, though we wos all 'parish rigged'--us bein' 'bout eight +months out from 'ome. If we 'ad been intendin' t' leave 'er, like th' +queer-fella, there, it 'ud a bin all right, but we 'ad 'bout +twenty-five poun' doo each of us, an' we wasn't keen on makin' th' Old +Man a n'ansome presint!" + +"How could he get that?" + +"'Ow could 'e get it? Easy 'nuff, in them days! As soon as we 'ad a +bin over th' rail, 'e 'ud 'ave us down in 'is bloomin' book--slops +supplied--five pun' 'ere--six pun' there--an' so on! ... Well, I was +sayin' as we was goin' south, round th' 'Orn! Winter time it was--an' +cold! Cruel! Ye couldn't tell who ye'r feet belonged to till ye 'ad +ye'r boots off. West an' sou'-west gales, 'ard runnin', ... an' there +we wos, away t' hell an' gone south' o' th' reg'lar track! + +"I wos at the wheel one day, an' I 'eard th' Old Man an' th' Mate +confabbin' 'bout th' ship's position. + +"'Fifty-nine, forty, south,' says th' Mate. 'Antarctic bloody +exploration, I call this!' ... 'E was frappin' 'is 'an's like a +Fenchurch cabby.... 'It's 'bout time ye wos goin' round, Capt'n! +She'd fetch round 'Cape Stiff' with a true west wind! She'll be in +among th' ice soon, if ye don't alter th' course! Time we was gettin' +out o' this,' says he, 'with two of th' han's frost-bit an' th' rest of +us 'bout perishin'!' + +"'Oh no,' says old Lewis. 'No, indeed! Don't you make any mistike, +Mister! South's th' course, ... south till I sells them fine blankits +an' warm shirts!'" + + + + +VI + +ROUNDING THE HORN + +Rounding Cape Horn from the eastward, setting to the teeth of the great +west wind, to the shock and onset of towering seas; furious combination +of the elements that sweep unchecked around the globe! + +Days passed, and we fared no farther on. North we would go with the +yards hard on the back-stays; to wear ship, and steer again south over +the same track. Hopeless work it was, and only the prospect of a +slant--a shift of wind that would let us to our journey--kept us +hammering doggedly at the task. + +Day after day of huge sea and swell, mountainous in calm or storm. +Leaden-grey skies, with a brief glint of sunshine now and then--for it +was nominally summer time in low latitudes. Days of gloomy calm, +presage of a fiercer blow, when the Old Man (Orcadian philosopher that +he was) caught and skilfully stuffed the great-winged albatross that +flounders helplessly when the wind fails. Days of strong breezes, when +we tried to beat to windward under a straining main-to'gal'nsail; ever +a west wind to thwart our best endeavours, and week-long gales, that we +rode out, hove-to in the trough of overwhelming seas, lurching to +leeward under low canvas. + +We had become sailors in earnest. We had forgotten the way of steady +trades and flying-fish weather, and, when the wind howled a whole gale, +we slapped our oilskin-clad thighs and lied cheerfully to each other of +greater gales we had been in. Even Wee Laughlin and M'Innes were +turned to some account and talked of sail and spars as if they had +never known the reek of steamer smoke. In the half-deck we had little +comfort during watch below. At every lurch of the staggering barque, a +flood of water poured through the crazy planking, and often we were +washed out by an untimely opening of the door. Though at heart we +would rather have been porters at a country railway station, we put a +bold front to the hard times and slept with our wet clothes under us +that they might be the less chilly for putting on at eight bells. We +had seldom a stitch of dry clothing, and the galley looked like a +corner of Paddy's market whenever McEwan, the 'gallus' cook, took pity +on our sodden misery. + +In the forecastle the men were better off. Collins had rigged an +affair of pipes to draw the smoke away, and it was possible, in all but +the worst of weather, to keep the bogie-stove alight. We would gladly +have shifted to these warmer quarters, but our parents had paid a +premium for _privileged berthing_, and the Old Man would not hear of +our flitting. Happily, we had little darkness to add to the misery of +our passage, for the sun was far south, and we had only three hours of +night. Yet, when the black squalls of snow and sleet rolled up from +the westward, there was darkness enough. At times a flaw in the +wind--a brief veering to the south--would let us keep the ship +travelling to the westward. All hands would be in high spirits; we +would go below at the end of our watches, making light of sodden +bedclothes, heartened that at last our 'slant' had come. Alas for our +hopes! Before our watch was due we would be rudely wakened. "_All +hands wear ship_"--the dreaded call, and the Mate thundering at the +half-deck door, shouting orders in a threatening tone that called for +instant spur. Then, at the braces, hanging to the ropes in a swirl of +icy water, facing up to the driving sleet and bitter spray, that cut +and stung like a whiplash. And when at last the yards were laid to the +wind, and the order '_down helm_' was given, we would spring to the +rigging for safety, and, clinging desperately, watch the furious sweep +of a towering 'greybeard' over the barque, as she came to the wind and +lay-to. + +Wild, heart-breaking work! Only the old hands, 'hard cases' like +Martin and Welsh John and the bo'sun, were the stoics, and there was +some small comfort in their "Whoo! This ain't nuthin'! Ye sh'd a' bin +shipmates with me in the ol' _Boryallus_!" (Or some such ancient +craft.) "_Them_ wos 'ard times!" + +Twice we saw Diego Ramirez and the Iledefonsos, with an interval of a +fortnight between the sightings--a cluster of bleak rocks, standing out +of surf and broken water, taking the relentless battery of huge seas +that swept them from base to summit. Once, in clear weather, we marked +a blue ridge of land far to the norrard, and Old Martin and Vootgert +nearly came to blows as to whether it was Cape Horn or the False Cape. + +Fighting hard for every inch of our laboured progress, doubling back, +crossing, recrossing (our track on the old blue-back chart was a maze +of lines and figures) we won our way to 70° W., and there, in the +hardest gale of the passage, we were called on for tribute, for one +more to the toll of sailor lives claimed by the rugged southern gateman. + +All day the black ragged clouds had swept up from the south-west, the +wind and sea had increased hourly in violence. At dusk we had +shortened sail to topsails and reefed foresail. But the Old Man hung +on to his canvas as the southing wind allowed us to go 'full and by' to +the nor'-west. Hurtling seas swept the decks, tearing stout fittings +from their lashings. The crazy old half-deck seemed about to fetch +loose with every sea that crashed aboard. From stem to stern there was +no shelter from the growing fury of the gale; but still the Old Man +held to his course to make the most of the only proper 'slant' in six +weary weeks. + +At midnight the wind was howling slaughter, and stout Old Jock, +dismayed at last at the furious sea upreared against him, was at last +forced to lay her to. In a piping squall of snow and sleet we set to +haul up the foresail. Even the nigger could not find heart to rouse +more than a mournful _i--o--ho_ at the buntlines, as we slowly dragged +the heavy slatting canvas to the yard. Intent on the work, we had no +eye to the weather, and only the Captain and steersman saw the sweep of +a monster sea that bore down on us, white-crested and curling. + +"Stand by," yelled the Old Man. "Hang on, for your lives, men! +Christ! Hold hard there!" + +Underfoot we felt the ship falter in swing--an ominous check in her +lift to the heaving sea. Then out of the blackness to windward a swift +towering crest reared up--a high wall of moving water, winged with +leagues of tempest at its back. It struck us sheer on the broadside, +and shattered its bulk aboard in a whelming torrent, brimming the decks +with a weight that left no life in the labouring barque. We were swept +to leeward at the first shock, a huddled mass of writhing figures, and +dashed to and fro with the sweep of the sea. Gradually, as the water +cleared, we came by foothold again, sorely bruised and battered. + +"Haul away again, men!" The Mate, clearing the blood of a head wound +from his eyes, was again at the foretack giving slack. "Hell! what ye +standing at? Haul away, blast ye! Haul an' rouse her up!" + +Half-handed, we strained to raise the thundering canvas; the rest, with +the Second Mate, were labouring at the spare spar, under which Houston, +an ordinary seaman, lay jammed with his thigh broken. Pinching with +handspikes, they got him out and carried aft, and joined us at the +gear; and at last the sail was hauled up. "_Aloft and furl_," was the +next order, and we sprang to the rigging in time to escape a second +thundering 'grey-beard.' + +It was dark, with a black squall making up to windward, as we laid out +on the yard and grappled with the wet and heavy canvas. Once we had +the sail up, but the wind that burst on us tore it from our stiffened +fingers. Near me a grown man cried with the pain of a finger-nail torn +from the flesh. We rested a moment before bending anew to the task. + +"Handy now, laads!" the Second Mate at the bunt was roaring down the +wind. "Stick t it, ma herts, ... hold aal, now! ... Damn ye, hold it, +you. Ye haandless sojer! ... Up, m' sons; up an' hold aal." + +Cursing the stubborn folds, swaying dizzily on the slippery footropes, +shouting for hold and gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed +monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. A turn of the +gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were +as weak and breathless as ourselves. The squall caught at an open lug, +and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard. + +There was a low but distinct cry, "Oh, Christ!" from the quarter, and +M'Innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. For a +moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the +thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to +come off the yard.... "The starboard boat .... Who? ... Duncan ... +It's Duncan gone.... Quick there, the star ... the lashings!" + +The Second Mate checked their movement. + +"No! No! Back, ye fools! Back, I say! Man canna' help Duncan now!" + +He stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his +heavy sea-boot menacingly. + +"Back, I say! Back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow +Duncan!" + +Slowly we laid out the yard again, and set sullenly to master Duncan's +murderer. + +A lull came. We clutched and pounded at the board-like cloths, dug +with hooked fingers to make a crease for handhold, and at last turned +the sail to the yard, though lubberly and ill-furled. + +One by one, as our bit was secured, we straggled down the rigging. +Some of the hands were aft on the lee side of the poop, staring into +the darkness astern--where Duncan was. Munro, utterly unmanned, was +crying hysterically. In his father's country manse, he had known +nothing more bitter than the death of a favourite collie. Now he was +at sea, and by his side a man muttered, "Dead?--My God, I hope he's +dead, ... out there!" + +The Old Man crossed over from the weather side, and addressing the men, +said: "The Second Mate tells me ye wanted t' get t' th' boat when +M'Innes .... went.... I'm pleased that ye've that much guts in ye, +but I could risk no boat's crew in a sea like this.... Besides, I'm +more-ally certain that M'Innes was dead before he took the water. Eh, +Mister?" + +"Aye ... dead," said the Mate. "I saw him strike the to'gal'nt rail, +and no man could live after a blow like that. Dead, sure!" + +Old Jock returned to his post under the weather-cloth, and the Mate +ordered the watch below. + +So Duncan took his discharge, and a few days later, in clearing +weather, his few belongings were sold at the mast. It was known that +he wasn't married, but Welsh John, who knew him best, said he had +spoken of his mother in Skye; and the Old Man kept a few letters and +his watch that he might have something besides his money to send to +Duncan's relatives. + +As if Duncan had paid our toll for rounding the storm-scarred Cape, the +weather cleared and winds set fair to us after that last dread night of +storm. Under a press of canvas we put her head to the norrard, and +soon left the Horn and the 'Roaring Forties' astern. + + * * * * * + +One night, in the middle watch, when we had nearly run out the +south-east trades, I went forward, looking for someone to talk to, or +anything to relieve the tedium of my two hours on the lee side of the +poop. I found Welsh John sitting on the main-hatch and disposed to +yarn. He had been the most intimate with Duncan, harkening to his +queer tales of the fairies in Knoidart when we others would scoff, and +naturally the talk came round to our lost shipmate. + +It was bright moonlight, and the shadow of sails and rigging was cast +over the deck. Near us, in the lee of the house, some sleepers lay +stretched. The Mate stepped drowsily fore and aft the poop, now and +then squinting up at the royals. + +"I wonder what brought Duncan to a windjammer," I said. "He was too +old to be starting the sea, an' there were plenty of jobs on the river +for a well-doin' man like him." + +Welsh John spat carefully on the deck, and, after looking round, said, +"Tuncan was here, indeed, because he thought the police would bother +him. He told me he wass in a small steamboat that runs from Loch Fyne +to the Clyde, an' the skipper was a man from Killigan or Kalligan, near +Tuncan's place." + +"Kyle-akin," I suggested. + +"That iss it, Kyle-akin; an' he was very far in drink. They started +from Inverary for the river, and it wass plowin' strong from the +south-east, an' the small boat wass makin' very bad weather, indeed. +The skipper wass very trunk, an' Tuncan, who wass steerin', said they +should put in to shelter for the night. But the skipper wass +quarrelsome, an' called Tuncan a coward an' a nameless man from Skye, +an' they came to plows. Tuncan let go the tiller, an' the small boat +came broadside on, and shipped a big sea, an' when Tuncan got to the +tiller an' put it up, the skipper was gone. They never saw him, so +they came on to the Clyde, where Tuncan left the poat. An' they were +askin' questions from him, an' Tuncan was afraid; but indeed to +goodness he had no need to pe. So he shipped with us--a pier-head jump +it wass...." + +A sleeper stirred uneasily, rolled over, and cursed us for a pair of +chatterin' lawyers. + +We were both quiet for a moment or two; then the strident voice of the +Mate rang out, "Boy! Boy! Where the hell have you got to now? Lay +aft and trim the binnacle!" + +I mounted the poop ladder, muttering the usual excuse about having been +to see the side-lights. I trimmed the lamps, and as it was then a +quarter to four, struck one bell and called the watch. As I waited on +the poop to strike the hour, the men were turning out forward, and I +could hear the voice of the eldest apprentice chiding the laggards in +the half-deck. I thought of Duncan, and of what Welsh John had told me. + +"Aye, aye, that was Duncan. That was the way of it. I always wond----" + +_Cla--clang--Cla--clang--Cla--clang--Cla--clang._ + +The Mate, anxious to get his head on pillow, had flogged the clock and +had struck eight bells himself. + + + + +VII + +A HOT CARGO + +Shorefolk can have but a hazy idea of all that it means to the +deep-water sailor when at last, after long voyaging, the port of his +destination heaves in sight. For months he has been penned up on +shipboard, the subject of a discipline more strict than that in any way +of life ashore. The food, poor in quality, and of meagre allowance at +the best, has become doubly distasteful to him. The fresh water has +nearly run out, and the red rusty sediment of the tank bottoms has a +nauseating effect and does little to assuage the thirst engendered by +salt rations. Shipmates have told and retold their yarns, discussions +now verge perilously on a turn of fisticuffs. He is wearying of sea +life, is longing for a change, for a break in the monotony of day's +work and watch-keeping, of watch-keeping and day's work. + +A welcome reaction comes on the day when he is ordered to put the +harbour gear in readiness. Generally he has only a hazy notion of the +ship's position (it is sea fashion to keep that an Officers' secret), +and the rousing up of the long idle anchor chains and tackle is his +first intimation that the land is near, that any day may now bring the +shore to view, that soon he will be kicking his heels in a sailor-town +tavern, washing off his 'salt casing' with lashings of the right stuff. + +This was in part our case when we were a hundred and forty days out +from the Clyde. The food was bad and short allowance; the key of the +pump was strictly guarded, but we had excitement enough and to spare, +for, six days before our 'landfall,' the bo'sun discovered fire in the +fore-hold that had evidently been smouldering for some time, was +deep-seated, and had secured a firm hold. + +It was difficult to get at the fire on account of the small hatchway, +and notwithstanding the laboured efforts of all hands, we were at last +obliged to batten the hatches down and to trust to a lucky 'slant' to +put us within hail of assistance. The water which we had so +fruitlessly poured below had all to be pumped out again to get the ship +in sailing trim; and heart-breaking work it was, with the wheezy old +pump sucking every time the ship careened to leeward. Anxiety showed +on all faces, and it was with great relief that, one day at noon, we +watched the Mate nailing a silver dollar to the mizzenmast. The dollar +was his who should first sight the distant shore. + +We held a leading wind from the norrard, and when, on the afternoon of +a bright day, we heard the glad shout from the fore-tops'l +yard--"Land-oh"--we put a hustle on our movements, and, light at heart, +found excuse to lay aloft to have a far-away look at God's good earth +again. It was the Farallone Islands we had made--thirty miles west +from the Golden Gate--a good landfall. Dutch John was the lucky man to +see it first, and we gave him a cheer as he laid aft to take the dollar +off the mast. + +In the second dog-watch we hung about the decks discussing prospective +doings when we set foot ashore, and those who had been in 'Frisco +before formed centres of inquiry and importance. From the bearing of +the land, we expected orders to check in the yards, but, greatly to our +surprise, the Mate ordered us to the lee fore-brace, and seemed to be +unable to get the yards far enough forrard to please him. When Wee +Laughlin came from the wheel at eight bells, we learned that the ship +was now heading to the nor'east, and away from our port; and the old +hands, with many shakings of the head, maintained that some tricky game +was afoot. The Old Man and the Mate were colloguing earnestly at the +break of the poop; and Jones, who went aft on a pretence of trimming +the binnacle, reported that the Old Man was expressing heated opinions +on the iniquity of salvage. At midnight we squared away, but as we +approached the land the wind fell light and hauled ahead. Wonder of +wonders! This seemed to please the Captain hugely, and his face beamed +like a nor'west moon every time he peered into the compass. + +Dawn found us well to the norrard of the islands, and close-hauled, +standing into the land. From break of day all hands were busy getting +the anchors cleared and the cables ranged. Some were engaged painting +out the rusty bits on the starboard top-side. A 'work-up' job they +thought it was until the Mate ordered them to leave the stages hanging +over the water abreast of the fore-hatch. Here the iron plating was +hot, the paint was blistered off, and every time the ship heeled over +there was an unmistakable _sssh_ as the water lapped the heated side. +This, and the smell of hot iron, was all that there was to tell of our +smouldering coal below, but 'Frisco men from the Water Front are sharp +as ferrets, and very little would give them an inkling of the state of +affairs. Presently we raised the land broad on the port bow, and two +of us were perched on the fore-to'gal'nt yard to look out for the pilot +schooner; or, if luck was in our way, a tow-boat. The land became more +distinct as the day wore on, and the bearing of several conspicuous +hills gave the Captain the position he sought. Before noon we reported +smoke ahead, and the Mate, coming aloft with his telescope, made out +the stranger to be a tow-boat, and heading for us. We were called down +from aloft, and the ship was put about. + +We were now, for the second time, heading away from our port; and when +the Mate set us to slap the paint on the burned patch, we understood +the Old Man's manoeuvre, which had the object of preventing the +tow-boat from rounding to on our starboard side. Her skipper would +there have assuredly seen evidences of our plight, and would not have +been slow to take advantage of it. + +The tug neared us rapidly (they lose no time on the Pacific slope), and +the Captain recognised her as the _Active_. + +"She's one of Spreckel's boats," said he, shutting his glass. "Cutbush +runs her, an' he's a dead wide ane. If he smells a rat, Mister, we'll +be damned lucky if we get into harbour under a couple o' thousand." + +We were all excited at the game, though it mattered little to us what +our owners paid, as long as we got out of our hot corner. Straight for +us he came, and when he rounded our stern and lay up on the lee +quarter, the bo'sun voiced the general opinion that the Old Man had +done the trick. + +"Morn, Cap.! Guess ye've bin a long time on th' road," sang out the +tow-boat's skipper, eyeing our rusty side and grassy counter. + +"Head winds," said the Old Man, "head winds, an' no luck this side o' +th' Horn." + +"Ye're a long way to th' norrard, Cap. Bin havin' thick weather +outside?" + +"Well, not what ye might call thick, but musty, these last few days. +We were lookin' to pick up the Farallones." (The unblushing old +Ananias!) + +There ensued a conversation about winds and weather, ships and +freights, interspersed with the news of five months back. The talk +went on, and neither seemed inclined to get to business. At last the +tow-boat man broke the ice. + +"Wall, Cap., I reckon ye don't want t' stay here all day. Wind's +easterly inside, an' there ain't none too much water on th' bar. Ye'd +better give us yer hawser 'n let's git right along." + +"Oh! no hurry, Capt'in; there's no hurry. What's a day here or there +when ye'r well over the hundreds? I can lay up to th' pilot ground on +th' next tack.... Ye'll be wantin' a big figure from here, an' my +owners won't stand a long pull." + +"Only six hundred, Cap., only six hundred, with your hawser." + +The Old Man started back in amazement. + +"Six hundred dollars, Capt'in. Did you say six hundred? Holy smoke! +I don't want t' buy yer boat, Capt'in.... Six hundred--well, I'm +damned. Loose them royals, Mister! Six hundred, no damn fear!" + +Quickly we put the royals on her, though they were little use, the wind +having fallen very light. The tow-boat sheered off a bit, and her +skipper watched us sheeting-home, as if it were a most interesting and +uncommon sight. + +He gave his wheel a spoke or two and came alongside again. + +"All right, Cap. Give us yer hawser 'n I'll dock ye for five-fifty!" + +The Old Man paid no attention to his request, but paced fore and aft +the weather side, gazing occasionally at the lazy royals, then fixing +the man at the wheel with a reproachful eye. At last he turned to +leeward with a surprised expression, as if astonished to find the +tow-boat still there. + +"Come, Cap.! Strike it right naow! What d'ye offer? Mind the wind, +as there is ov it, is due east in the Strait." + +The Old Man thought carefully for quite a time. "Hundred 'n fifty, 'n +your hawser," he said. + +The Captain of the _Active_ jammed his telegraph at full speed ahead. + +"Good morn', Cap.," he said. "Guess I'll see ye in 'Frisco this side +o' the Noo Year." He forged rapidly ahead, and when clear of the bows +took a long turn to seaward. The Mate took advantage of his being away +and wiped off the paint on the burned patch, which was beginning to +smell abominably. Fresh paint was hurriedly put on, and the stages +were again aboard when the _Active_, finding nothing to interest her on +the western horizon, returned--again to the lee quarter. + +"Saay, Cap., kan't we do a deal; kan't we meet somewhere?" said +Cutbush, conciliatory. "Say five hundred or four-eighty, 'n I'll toss +ye for th' hawser?" + +"I can't do it, Capt'in.... I'd lose my job if I went," (here the Old +Man paused to damn the steersman's eyes, and to tell him to keep her +full) "if I went that length." + +The tow-boat again sheered off, and her skipper busied himself with his +telescope. + +"Wall, Cap., she may be a smart barque, but I'm darn ef ye can beat her +though the Golden Gate the way th' wind is. Saay! Make it +three-fifty? What the hell's about a fifty dollars. Darn me! I've +blown that in half-hour's poker!" + +"Aye, aye! That's so; but I'm no' takin' a hand in that game. Set the +stays'ls, Mister, 'n get a pull on the fore 'n main sheets!" + +We went about the job, and the _Active_ took another turn, this time to +the south'ard. Munro, aloft loosing the staysails, reported a steamer +away under the land. She was sending up a dense smoke, and that caused +the Old Man to account her another tow-boat out seeking. + +"That'll fetch him," he said to the Mate, "'n if he offers again I'll +close. Three-fifty's pretty stiff, but we can't complain." + +"Egad, no!" said the Mate; "if I'd been you I'd have closed for five +hundred, an' be done with it." + +"Aye, aye, no doubt! no doubt! But ye're not a Scotchman looking after +his owners' interest." + +Soon we saw the _Active_ smoking up and coming towards us with 'a bone +in her mouth.' Cutbush had seen the stranger's smoke, and he lost no +time. He seemed to be heading for our starboard side, and we thought +the game was up; but the Old Man kept off imperceptibly, and again the +tug came to port. + +"Changed yer mind, Cap.? Guess I must be gwine back. Got t' take the +_Drumeltan_ up t' Port-Costa in th' mornin'. What d'ye say t' three +hundred?" + +The Old Man called the Mate, and together they held a serious +consultation, with many looks to windward, aloft, and at the compass. +The stranger was rapidly approaching, and showed herself to be a +yellow-funnelled tow-boat, with a business-like foam about her bows. +Spreckel's man was getting fidgety, as this was one of the opposition +boats, and he expected soon to be quoting a competitive figure. To his +pleased surprise, the Old Man came over to leeward, and, after a last +wrangle about the hawser, took him on at the satisfactory figure of +three hundred dollars. + +We put about, and the Mate had another little deal in burned paint. +Courses were hauled up, and the Active came along our starboard side to +pass the towing wire aboard. The paint hid the patch, and in the +manoeuvre of keeping clear of our whisker-booms, the smell escaped +notice, and the marks of our distress were not noticed by her crew. We +hauled the wire aboard and secured the end, and the _Active's_ crew +heard nothing significant in the cheer with which we set about +clewing-up and furling sail. + +The afternoon was far spent when we reached the pilot schooner. She +was lying at anchor outside the bar, the wind having died away; and as +she lifted to the swell, showed the graceful underbody of an old-time +'crack.' The pilot boarded us as we towed past. Scarce was he over +the rail before he shouted to the Old Man, "What's the matter, Cap'n? +Guess she looks 's if she had a prutty hot cargo aboard." + +"Hot enough, Pilot! Hot enough, b' Goad! We've bin afire forr'ard +these last seven days that we know of, and I'm no' sayin' but that I'm +glad t' see th' beach again." + +"Wall, that's bad, Cap'n. That's bad. Ye won't make much this trip, I +guess, when the 'boys' have felt ye over.' He meant when the 'Frisco +sharps had got their pickings, and the Old Man chuckled audibly as he +replied. + +"Oh, we'll chance that--aye, we'll chance that. It's no' so bad 's if +Cutbush was gettin' his figger." + +"What's he gettin', anyway?" + +"Oh, he's doin' verra well. He's doin' verra well," said the Old Man +evasively. + +We were now approaching the far-famed Golden Gate, the talk of mariners +on seven seas. We boys were sent aloft to unrig the chafing gear, and +took advantage of our position and the Mate's occupation to nurse the +job, that we might enjoy the prospect. The blue headland and the +glistening shingle of Drake's Bay to the norrard and the high cliffs of +Benita ahead: the land stretching away south, and the light of the +westing sun on the distant hills. No wonder that when the Mate called +us down from aloft to hand flags there was much of our work left +unfinished. + +At Benita Point we had a busy time signalling news of our condition to +the ship's agents at 'Frisco. After we passed through the Narrows, we +had a near view of the wooded slopes of Saucilito, with the +white-painted houses nestling comfortably among the trees. Away to the +right the undulating plains of the Presidio reached out to the purple +haze of the distant city. The Pilot, seeing admiration in our eyes, +couldn't help blowing, even to us boys, and exclaimed aloud on the +greatness of the U-nited States in possessing such a sea-board. + +"Saay, boys," he said. "Guess yew ain't got nothin' like this in th' +old country!" + +Young Munro, who was the nearest, didn't let the Pilot away with that, +and he mentioned a 'glint of Loch Fyre, when the sun was in the +west'ard.' "And that's only one place I'm speakin' of." + +The sun was low behind us as we neared the anchorage, and a light haze +softened and made even more beautiful the outlines of the stately City. +As we looked on the shore, no one had mind of the long dreary voyage. +That was past and done. We had thought only for the City of the West +that lay before us, the dream of many long weary nights. + +But, as I gazed and turned away, I was sharply minded of what the sea +held for us. Houston had been carried on deck, "t' see th' sichts," as +he said. His stretcher stood near me, and the sight of his wan face +brought up the memory of bitter times 'off the Horn.' Of the black +night when we lost Duncan! Of the day when Houston lay on the cabin +floor, and the master-surgeon and his rude assistants buckled to 'the +job'! Of the screams of the tortured lad--"Let me alane! Oh, Christ! +Let me al----" till kindly Mother Nature did what we had no means to +do! ... "Man, but it was a tough job, with her rolling and pitching in +the track o' th' gale!" The Old Man was telling the Pilot about it. +"But there he is, noo! As sound as ye like ... a bit weak, mebbe, but +sound! ... We'll send him t' th' hospital, when we get settled +down.... No' that they could dae mair than I've dune." Here a smile +of worthy pride. "But a ship 's no' the place for scienteefic +measures--stretchin', an' rubbin', an' that.... Oh, yes! Straight? +I'll bate ye he walks as straight as a serjunt before we're ready for +sea again!" + +As we drew on to the anchorage, a large raft-like vessel with barges in +tow made out to meet us. The Old Man turned his glasses on her and +gave an exclamation of satisfaction. + +"Meyer's been damn smart in sending out the fire-float," he said to the +Mate, adding, "Get the foreyard cock-billed, Mister; and a burton +rigged to heave out the cargo as soon 's we anchor. There's the +tow-boat whistlin' for ye to shorten in th' hawser. Bear a hand, mind +ye, for we've a tough night's work before us." + + * * * * * + +But all was not pleasant anticipation aboard of the screw tug _Active_, +towing gallantly ahead, for Captain John Cutbush had discovered his +loss, and the world wasn't big enough for his indictment of Fortune. + +He had seen our flags off Benita, but had not troubled to read the +message, as he saw the answering pennant flying from the Lighthouse. +In scanning the anchorage for a convenient berth to swing his tow in, +the fire-float caught his eye. + +"Hello! somethin' afire in th' Bay!" He turned his glasses among the +shipping, in search of a commotion, but all was quiet among the tall +ships. + +"But where's she lyin'-to fer? There ain't nothin' this side ov +Alcatraz, I reckon." + +Then a dread suspicion crossed his mind, that made him jump for the +signal-book. He remembered the flags of our last hoist, and feverishly +turned them up. + +"Arrange--assistance---for--arrival." + +Muttering oaths, he dropped the book and focussed his glasses on the +tow. The track of the fire was patent to the world now, and we were +unbending the sails from the yards above the fore-hatch. + +"She's afire right 'nuff, 'n I never cottoned. Roast me for a ----. +'N that's what the downy old thief was standin' t' th' norrard for, 'n +I never cottoned! 'N that's what he took me on at three hundred for, +'n Meyer's boat almost along-side. Three ---- hundred 'n my ---- +hawser. Waal--I'm--damned! The old limejuice pirate! Guess I should +'a known him for a bloody sharp when I saw Glasgow on her stern." + +He stopped cursing, to blow his whistle--a signal for us to shorten in +the towing hawser. In the ensuing manoeuvres he was able to relieve +his feelings by criticising our seamanship; he swung us round with a +vicious sheer, eased up, and watched our anchor tumbling from the bows. +He gazed despairingly at his Mate, who was steering. + +"Here's a ruddy mess, Gee-orge," he said. "Three thousan' dollars +clean thrown away. What'll the boss say. What'll they say on th' +Front?" + +George cursed volubly, and expended much valuable tobacco juice. + +"Here's a boomer fer th' 'Examiner,' Geeorge; here's a sweet headline +fer th' 'Call'! + +"'Cutbush done!' + +"'Cap'n Jan Cutbush done in th' eye!!' + +"'Cap'n Jan S. Cutbush, th' smartest skipper on th' Front, done in the +bloody eye by a bargoo-eatin' son ef a gun ef a grey-headed +limejuicer!!!'" + + + + +VIII + +WORK! + +Scarcely was our anchor down in 'Frisco Bay than the boarding-house +'crimps' were alongside, beaming with good-fellowship, and tumbling +over one another in their anxiety to shake 'Jack' by the hand, and to +tell him of the glorious openings and opportunities for smart sailormen +ashore. The Mate vainly endeavoured to prevent them boarding the ship, +but with the ordinary harassing duties incident on arrival, and the +extraordinary matter of a serious fire in the hold, he could not do +everything; so the 'crimps' installed themselves in the fo'cas'le, and +the grog (Welcome-home Brand) was flowing far and free. + +The starboard watch were aloft furling the tops'ls, and only the +presence of the Captain and Mates at the foot of the rigging kept them +from joining the hilarious crowd in the fo'cas'le. The Mate's watch +had been employed at the ground tackle, and had dodged in and out of +the fo'cas'le; so that, in a very short time, they were all 'three +sheets in the wind,' and making for trouble. Vootgert, the Belgian, +was the first to fall foul of the Mate, and that sorely-tried Officer +could hardly be blamed for using all four limbs on the offending +'squarehead.' Seeing their shipmate thus handled, the watch would have +raised a general mêlée, but the boarding-house 'crimps,' having no +liking for police interference, succeeded in calming the valiant ones +by further draughts of their fiery panacea. To us boys (who had heard +great tales of revolvers and other weapons being freely used by ship +captains in preventing their men from being 'got at') these mutinous +ongoings were a matter of great wonderment; but, later, we learned that +freights were low, and we were likely to be many months in 'Frisco; +that crews' wages and victualling, when the ship is earning no money, +reflect on the professional character of an old-time shipmaster, and +that to baulk the 'crimps' on arrival means an expensive delay in +making up a crew when the ship is again ready for sea. + +Wee Laughlin and the nigger were the first to yield to the eloquence of +their visitors. No one was surprised that the Mate let Laughlin clear +without interference. A poor sailor, though a lot had been licked into +him since he left the 'Poort,' he was not worth keeping. His kind +could be picked up on the Water Front any day. He had come on board at +Greenock--a pierhead jump, with his wardrobe on his back and a +'hauf-mutchkin' of very inferior whisky in his pocket. Now, to our +astonishment, he threw a well-filled bag over the side before he slid +down the rope into the 'crimp's' boat. Long intending to desert when +we arrived, he had taken as much of his pay in clothes and slop-chest +gear as the Old Man would allow. It was said, too, that a lot of poor +Duncan's clothes never came to auction, and more than one suspected Wee +Laughlin of a run through Duncan's bag before the Old Niven got forward +and claimed what was left. + +That well-filled bag! + +To the Second Mate, who was eyeing his departure, he flung a +salutation, first seeing that his line of retreat was clear. "Weel, so +long, Mister, ye Hielan' ----, ye can pit ma fower pun ten i' yer e'e +'n ca' yersel' a bloody banker!" + +No one saw the nigger go, but gone he was, bag and baggage; and loud +were the curses of the cook, to whom he owed four pounds of tobacco for +losses at crib. + +While all this was going on, and the 'crimps' were marking down their +prey, the crew of the fire-float had located the fire and cut a hole in +the 'tween-decks above the hottest part. Through this a big ten-inch +hose was passed, and soon the rhythmic _clank-clank_ of their pump +brought 'Frisco Bay to our assistance. + +Darkness fell on a scene of uproar. Everything was at sixes and sevens +forward, and the discipline of five months was set at naught. Drunken +men tumbled over the big hose and slippery decks, and got in the +firemen's way; steam enveloped the decks as in a fog; dim figures of +men struggled and quarrelled; curses and hoarse shouts came from the +fo'cas'le, whence the hands were being driven by the rising smoke and +steam; rushing figures transferred their few belongings to safer +quarters; and through all throbbed the steady _clank-clank_ of the +fire-engine. + +A strange contrast to the quiet and peaceful scene about us--with a low +moon over San Rafael, and the lights of the shipping reflected in the +placid water. A few fishing-boats were drifting out on the tide, with +creak of oar and rowlock; and above all was the glare of the lighted +streets and harbour lights of the great city. + +Not long had we to contrast the scenes, for the Mate, and the Old Man +himself, were at our backs, man-driving the few sober hands, to make up +for their inability to handle the skulkers. They did not spare +themselves in driving, and at salving the gear in the lamp-room the +Captain made a weird picture, black and grimy, with a cloth over his +mouth, passing the lamps out to the boys. + +With such a volume of water pouring below, it was necessary to get a +pump in position to keep our craft afloat. She was now far down by the +head and had a heavy list, and as the ship's pumps would not draw, the +Firemaster arranged to put one of his pumps into the fore-peak. To +make this efficient, we had to raise the sluice in the forrard +bulkhead; and even the Old Man looked anxious when the Carpenter +reported that the sluice was jammed, and that the screw had broken in +his hands. The stream of water into the hold was immediately stopped, +and all available hands (few enough we were) were put to clearing the +fore-peak, that the sluice could be got at. In this compartment all +the ship's spare gear and bos'un's stores were kept, and the lower hold +held ten tons of the ship's coal. The small hatchway made despatch +impossible, and the want of a winch was keenly felt. It was +back-breaking work, hauling up the heavy blocks, the cordage, sails and +tarpaulins, chains, kegs and coils, and dragging them out on deck. A +suffocating atmosphere and foul gases below showed that the seat of the +fire was not far off, and often the workers were dragged up in a +semi-conscious state. The Mate was the first to go down, and he hung +out till nature rebelled, and he was dragged up and put in the open +air. There the aggrieved Belgian saw him, and, maddened by drink, took +advantage of his exhaustion to kick him viciously in the ribs; but +Jones promptly laid the Dutchman out with a hand-spike. + +In a moment the drink, discontent, excitement, and overwork found vent +in furious riot: shipmates of five months' standing, comrades in fair +weather and foul, were at each other's throats, and amid the smoke and +steam no man could name his enemy. Welsh John, in trying to get young +Munro out of harm's way, was knocked down the open hatch, and he lay, +groaning, with a broken arm, amid the steam and stench. Hicks, the +bo'sun, was stabbed in the cheek, and someone knocking the lamps over, +added darkness to the vicious conflict. Blind and blaspheming, animals +all, we fought our way to the doors, and the malcontents, in ill plight +themselves, cared little to follow us. + +Meantime the Firemaster, seeing how matters stood, called his men +together and turned a hose into the fo'cas'le. The thin, vicious +stream proved too much for the mutineers, and we were soon in +possession again. John was taken up from the fore-peak (he was far +through) and carried aft. The mutineers, such as were fit, were put +down below to dig coals till they could dig no more; and again the work +went on--weary, body-racking work. + +With aching eyes and every muscle in revolt, we toiled on in silence, +not even a curse among us. Silence, broken only by the rattle of the +block-sheave, as the baskets of coal were hove up and emptied. There +was now no need for the Old Man to hold himself in readiness, with +something in his pocket that bulged prominently, for there was not an +ounce of fight left in the crowd, and 'Smith and Wessons' are +ill-fitting things to carry about. Two hours we had of this, and give +in was very near when the welcome news came up that they had got at the +sluice, that the water was trickling through. Soon after, the sluice +was prised up, and the pent-up water rushed into the peak. The +Firemaster passed his pipe below, and again the pumps were set agoing. + +We staggered out into the fresh morning air, red-eyed and ragged, and a +madhouse gang we looked in the half-light of an early Californian dawn. +Faces haggard and blackened by the smoke, eyes dazed and bloodshot, and +on nearly everyone evidence of the ten minutes' sanguinary encounter in +bruised eyes and bloody faces. The Mate called a muster to serve out +grog, and of our crew of twenty-seven hands only fifteen answered the +call. The Old Man tried to make a few remarks to the men. He had been +frequently to the bottle through the night, for his speech was thick +and his periods uncertain. + +"No bloody nozzush, b' Goad ... tan' no nozzush, Mis'r----" was about +the burden of his lay. + +With a modest glass of strong rum to raise our spirits momentarily, we +lingered before going below to note the wreck and confusion that our +once trim barque was now in. She was still down by the head, and +listed at an awkward angle. The decks were littered with gear and +stores, muddy and dirty as a city street on a day of rain. Aloft, the +ill-furled tops'ls hung bunched below the yards, with lazy gaskets +streaming idly in mid-air; and the yards, 'lifted' at all angles, gave +a lubberly touch to our distressed appearance. The riding-light, still +burning brightly on the forestay, though the sun was now above the +horizon, showed that we had lost all regard for routine. + +A damp mist, the 'pride o' the morning,' was creeping in from seaward, +and the siren at the Golden Gate emitted a mournful wail at intervals. +Near us, at the anchorage, a big black barque, loaded and in sea-trim, +was getting under weigh, and the haunting strain of 'Shenandoah,' most +beautiful of sea-chanteys, timed by the musical _clank_ of the windlass +pawls, was borne on the wind to us. + +"An outward-bounder, and a blue-nose at that," said Martin. + +We wondered if Wee Laughlin was already in her fo'cas'le, with a +skinful of drugged liquor to reckon with. The 'crimps' lose no time if +they can get their man under, and Wee Laughlin, by his own glory of it, +was a famous swallower. + +In the half-deck, some of the boys were already turned in, and lying in +uneasy attitudes, with only their boots and jackets off. Jones, who +had been severely handled in the scrimmage, was moaning fitfully in his +sleep, his head swathed in bloody bandages, and the pallor showing in +his face through the grime and coal-dust. Hansen was the last man in. +He threw himself wearily down on the sea-chests, now all of a heap to +leeward, snatched a pillow from under Munro's head, and composed +himself to rest. + +"Mate says I'm to keep watch, 'n call him at eight bells; but, judgin' +by th' way he put the grog down, I'm damn sure he'll stir tack nor +sheet till midday.... Firemaster says she's under hand, 'n he'll have +the fire out in two hours, 'n she can bally well look out for +herself.... T' hell with an anchor watch; I can't keep my eyes open, +an' 'll work ... work ... no m----" + + + + +IX + +IN 'FRISCO TOWN + +We moored at Mission Wharf to discharge what cargo the fire had spared, +and there we made a lubberly picture, outcast among so many trim ships. +The firemen had done their duty and had left us to do ours, and we had +to work our hardest to put the ship in order again. A firm of +shipwrights were employed to repair the damage--the twisted stanchions, +buckled beams, burnt decks, worthless pumps, and hold fittings. Old +Jock was not a Scotchman for nothing, and to make their contract +profitable, the 'wrights did nothing that they could wriggle out of. +So we had extra work to do--their work--and from daylight to dark were +kept hard at it, man-driven as only our hardcase Mate could drive. It +was no wonder that we were in a state of discontent. Here we were, +after a long, hard voyage, working our 'soul-case' to shreds! And +there--just across the wharf--were the lights of Market Street, that +seemed to beckon us to come ashore! There were angry mutterings, and +only a wholesome fear of the Mate's big hands kept us at the task. + +With the men forward it was even worse. The word had gone out that no +money would be advanced until the cargo was discharged and the ship put +to rights. No money--not even the price of a 'schooner'! And the +ghost of nigh six months, salt beef waiting to be 'laid!' + +Their state of mind was soon observed by the boarding-masters. Whalers +were in the Bay, fitted out and ready for sea, and only a lack of +sailormen kept them within the Golden Gate. To get these men--the +blood-money for their shipment, rather--was the business of the +'crimps,' who showed a wealth of imagination in describing the various +topping shore jobs that they held at their disposal. Now it was a +'mine manager' they were looking for in our forecastle; to-morrow it +would be a fruit salesman they wanted! They secured smiling Dutch John +as a decoy, and set him up behind the bar of a Water Front saloon. +There, when work was over for the day, his former shipmates +foregathered, and John (fairly sober, considering) put up free drinks +and expanded on the goodness of a long-shore life. + +"Vat jou boysh stop _mit der_ ship on? Jou tinks dere vas no yobs on +shore? De boardin'-master damn lie, eh? ... Ah vas get me four +dollars a day; _und der_ boss, ven 'e see me de glasses break, say me +nodings! Ah goes from _der haus, und_ comes to _der haus in--und_ 'e +say nod like _der_ Mate, 'Vat jou do dere, _verdamt shwine_? Was _für_ +jou no go on mit jour vark?' ... _'ttverdam_! It vas _der_ life, +_mein_ boysh! It vas _der_ life!" + +Against such a pronouncement from their whilom shipmate, and with the +plain evidence of his prosperity before their eyes, it was useless to +argue. Here was John able to stand free drinks all round, and the +saloon boss 'standin' by' and smiling pleasantly. Didn't John say, +"Here, boss, jou gif me a light for _mein_ cigar!" and the owner of the +place handed out his silver box instanter? John! A 'Dutchman,' +too,--not even the best sailorman of the 'crowd'! ... ("Here, boss, +what was that job ye was talkin' about? I _guess_ there ain't nuthin' +I can't do w'en I sets my 'ead to it!") Soon the 'crimps,' ever ready +at hand, were off to the ship, hot-foot, for bags and baggage! + +Those who still held by the ship were visited at all hours, and the +comings and goings of the tempters were not even checked by the Mate. +The dinner hour was the most opportune time for them, for then they had +the miserable meal to point to in scorn. + +"Call yewrselves min," they said, "a sittin' hyar at yer lobscouse an' +dawg biscuits, an' forty dallars a month jest waitin' t' be picked up? +... Forty dallars ... an' no more graft 'n a boy kin dew! Darn it, I +wouldn't give that mess to me dawg! ... A fine lot yees are, fer sure! +Ain't got no heart t' strike aout f'r decent grub 'n a soft job.... +Forty dallars, I guess! ... Is thar a 'man' among ye? ... Chip in +yewr dunnage an' step ashore, me bucks! A soft job in a free country, +an' no damn lime juice Mate t' sweat ye araound!" + +The 'spell worked'! Within a fortnight of our arrival most of the men +who had signed with us had, '_Deserted. Left no effects_,' entered +against their names in our official Log. Soon the whalers were at sea, +standing to the north, and Dutch John shorn of his proud position, was +shipped as cook on a hard-case New Yorker! + +The bos'un and Old Martin were still with us, and we had Welsh John and +Houston safe in the hospital--about the only place in 'Frisco where no +healthy 'crimp' could gain admission. For want of better game, +perhaps, the boarding-masters paid some attention to the half-deck, but +we had, in the Chaplain of the British Seamen's Institute, a muscular +mentor to guide us aright. From the first he had won our hearts by his +ability to put Browne (our fancy man) under the ropes in three rounds. +It was said that, in the absence of a better argument, he was able and +willing to turn his sleeves up to the stiffest 'crimp' on the Front. +Be that as it may, there was no doubt about his influence with +brassbounders in the port. Desertions among us--that had formerly been +frequent--were rare enough when James Fell came, swinging his stick, to +see what was doing on the Front! + +With the crew gone, we found matters improved with us. The Mate, +having no 'crowd' to rush around, was inclined to take things easy, +and, when sober, was quite decent. Although but a few weeks in the +country, we were now imbued with the spirit of freedom; learned to +'guess' and 'reckon'; called Tuesday 'Toosday'; and said "No, sir-rr!" +when emphatic denial was called for. Eccles even tried the democratic +experiment of omitting his "sir" when answering the Mate. Disastrous +result! + +Seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed like +longshore labourers on the ship's hull. The rust and barnacles of our +outward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more than +enough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patent +compositions. One day Burke discovered his elder brother's name +painted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride of +the painter's position, 'Captain of a big tramp steamer,' we were +consoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill as +others had done before us. When the painting was finished we had the +satisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of the +many tall ships that lined the wharves. + +At night, when work was over, we had the freedom of the City. It was +good to be on the beach again. Money was scarce with us, and in a +place where five cents is the smallest currency, we found our little +stock go fast, if not far. If luxuries were beyond our reach, at least +the lighted streets were ours, and it was with a delightful sense of +freedom from ship discipline that we sauntered from 'sailor-town' to +'China-town,' or through the giant thoroughfares that span the heart of +the City itself. Everything was new, and fine, and strange. The +simple street happenings, the busy life and movements, the glare and +gaudery of the lights, were as curious to us as if we had never landed +before. + +'Sailor-town'--the Water Front, was first beyond the gangway. Here +were the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' and +shoddy shops. The boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess of +an old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned their +doorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. On occasions they +would invite us in--"Come right in, boyees, an' drink the health o' th' +haouse," was the word of it--but we had heard of the _Shanghai +Passage_, and were chary of their advances. Often our evident distrust +was received with boisterous laughter. "Saay," they would shout. +"_Yew_ needn't shy, me sucking bloody Nelsons! It's little use _yew_ +'ud be aboard a packet!" ... "Light--the--binnacle, bo--oy!" was +another salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a lady +at an upper window, and there would be a sailorman there--out of sight, +as prompters properly are. + +At the clothing shop doors, the Jews were ever on the alert for custom. +A cheap way of entertainment was to linger for a moment at their +windows, pointing and admiring. Isaac would be at us in a moment, +feeling the texture of our jackets with his bony fingers and calling on +the whole street to witness that it was "a biece 'f damn good shduff!" +Then it would be, "Gome into de shop, Misdur! I guess I god de tingsh +you vannt!" + +After we had spent a time examining and pricing his scent-bottles and +spring garters, and hand-painted braces and flowered velvet slippers +and 'Green River' sheath-knives, we thought it but right to tell him +that Levy Eckstein of Montgomery Street was our man; that our Captain +would pay no bills for us but his! + +With Levy our business was purely financial; cent, per cent, +transactions in hard cash. He had contracted with the Old Man to +supply us with clothing, but, though our bills specified an outfit of +substantial dry goods, we were always able to carry away the parcels in +our smallest waistcoat pocket. "One dollar for two," was Levy's motto. +If his terms were hard, his money was good, and, excepting for the Old +Man's grudging advances, we had no other way of 'raising the wind.' + +In 'China-town' we found much to astonish us. We could readily fancy +ourselves in far Cathay. There was nothing in the narrow streets and +fancily carved house fronts to suggest an important City in the States. +Quaint shop signs and curious swinging lanterns; weird music and noises +in the 'theatres'; uncanny smells from the eating-houses; the cat-like +sound of China talk--all jumbled together in a corner of the most +western city of the West! + +The artisans in their little shops, working away far into the night, +interested us the most, and some of our little money went to purchase +small wares for the home folks. It was here that Munro bought that +long 'back-scratcher'; the one he took home to his father! + +Sometimes, when we could induce our Burke to make up to one of his +compatriots (the blue-coated, six-foot Fenians who keep 'Frisco under +martial law), we saw something of the real, the underground China-town. +It was supposed to be a hazardous excursion, but, beyond treading the +dark, forbidding alleys, haunts of 'Li-Johns' and 'Highbinders,' we had +no sight of the sensational scenes that others told us of. We saw +opium dens, and were surprised at the appearance of the smokers. +Instead of the wasted and debauched beings, of whom we had read, we +found stout Johns and lean Johns, lively Johns and somnolent Johns, +busy and idle--but all looking as if they regarded life as a huge joke. + +They laughed amiably at our open mouths, and made remarks to us. +These, of course, we were unable to understand, but at least we could +grin, and that seemed to be the answer expected. When our guide took +us to free air again, and we found ourselves far from where we had +entered, we could readily 'take it from Michael' that the underground +passages offered harbour to all the queer fellows of the City. With +the night drawing on, and a reminder in our limbs that we had done a +hard day's work, we would go to Clark's, in Kearney, a coffee-house +famed among brassbounders. There we would refresh and exchange ship +news with 'men' from other ships. Clark himself--a kindly person with +a hint of the Doric amidst his 'Amurricanisms'--was always open to +reason in the middle of the week, and we never heard that he had lost +much by his 'accommodations.' + +When we returned to the streets, the exodus from the theatres would be +streaming towards cars and ferry. It was time we were on board again. +Often there would be a crowd of us bound for the wharves. It was a +custom to tramp through 'sailor-town' together. On the way we would +cheer the 'crimps' up by a stave or two of 'Mariners of England.' + + + + +X + +THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S' + +In the half-deck differences, sometimes leading to fisticuffs, were of +daily occurrence; but, considering that we were boys, drawn from all +parts, each with his town or county's claim to urge, we dwelt very +happily together. Though our barque was Scotch, we were only two +strong, and at times it was very difficult to keep our end up, and +impress our Southron shipmates with a proper sense of our national +importance. The voice of reason was not always pacific, and on these +occasions we could but do our best. Our Jones (of Yorkshire) was of a +quarrelsome nature; most of our bickers were of his seeking, and to him +our strained relations with the 'Torreador's' was mainly due. + +The _Torreador_ had berthed next to us at Mission Wharf, and by the +unwritten laws of the sea and the customs of the port of San Francisco, +her crew should have fraternised with us; from the mates (who could +exchange views on the sizes of rope and the chances of promotion) down +to the younger apprentices (who should have visited one another to +'swap' ship's biscuit). With other ships matters might have been +arranged, but the _Torreador_ was a crack ship, and flew the blue +ensign, even on week-days; her captain was an F.R.A.S., and her boys +(whose parents paid heavy premiums for the glitter) wore brass buttons +to everyday work, and were rated as midshipmen, no less! The day after +her arrival some of them were leaning over the rail looking at our +barque, and acquaintance might have been made then and there, but Jones +(who fancied himself a wit) spoiled the chances of an understanding by +asking them if the stewardess had aired their socks properly that +morning. Such a question aroused great indignation, and for over a +fortnight we were 'low bounders,' and they 'kid-glove sailors.' + +Matters went ill between us, and our ships were too close together to +ignore one another altogether. The 'Torreador's' contented themselves +with looking smarter and more aggressively clean than ever, and with +casting supercilious glances all over us when they saw us chipping and +scraping the rust off our vessel's topside--(they never got such jobs +to do, as their Old Man was too busy cramming them up with "Sumners" +and "Deviation Curves"). We replied by making stage asides to one +another on the methods of 'coddling sickly sailors,' and Jones even +went the length of arraying himself in a huge paper collar when he was +put over-side to paint ship. A brilliant idea, he thought it, until +the Mate noticed him, and made his ears tingle till sundown. + +The 'Torreador's' kept a gangway watch, and one of his duties seemed to +be to cross the deck at intervals and inspect our barque, crew, and +equipment in a lofty manner. He would even (if his Mate--the Chief +Officer, they called him--wasn't looking) put his hands in his beckets +and his tongue in his cheek. At first we greeted his appearance with +exaggerated respect; we would stand to attention and salute him in +style; but latterly, his frequent appearances (particularly as he +always seemed to be there when our Mate was recounting our misdeeds, +and explaining what lazy, loafing, ignorant, and 'sodgering' creatures +he had to handle) got on our nerves. + +Matters went on in this way for over a week, and everybody was getting +tired of it; not only on our ship, for one day we caught a 'Torreador' +openly admiring our collection of sharks' tails which we had nailed to +the jib-boom. When he found himself observed he blushed and went about +some business, before we had a chance to ask him aboard to see the +sharks' backbones--fashioned into fearsome walking-sticks. Up town we +met them occasionally, but no one seemed inclined to talk, and a +'barley' was as far away as ever. If we went to the Institute they +were to be seen lolling all over the sofas in the billiard-room, +smoking cigarettes, when, as everyone knows, a briar pipe is the only +thing that goes decently with a brass-bound cap, tilted at the right +angle. They did not seem to make many friends, and their talk among +themselves was of matters that most apprentices ignore. One night +Jones heard them rotting about 'Great Circle sailing,' and 'ice to the +south'ard of the Horn,' and subjects like that, when, properly, they +ought to be criticising their Old Man, and saying what an utter duffer +of a Second Mate they had. Jones was wonderfully indignant at such +talk, and couldn't sleep at night for thinking of all the fine +sarcastic remarks he might have made, if he had thought of them at the +time. + +When our barque, by discharge of cargo, was risen in the water, we were +put to send the royal-yards down on deck, and took it as a great relief +from our unsailorly harbour jobs. The 'Torreador's,' with envious +eyes, watched us reeving off the yard ropes. They had a Naval Reserve +crew aboard to do these things, and their seamanship was mostly with a +model mast in the half-deck. They followed all the operations with +interest, and when Hansen and Eccles got the main royal yard on deck, +in record time, they looked sorry that they weren't at the doing. + +"Sumners" and "Deviation Curves" are all very well in their way, but a +seamanlike job aloft, on a bright morning, is something stirring to +begin the day with. A clear head to find one's way, and a sharp hand +to unbend the gear and get the yard canted for lowering; then, with a +glance at the fore (where fumblers are in difficulties with their +lifts), the prideful hail to the deck, "All clear, aloft! Lower away!" + +No wonder the 'Torreador's' were not satisfied with their model mast! + +Some days later we got another chance to show them how things were done +aloft, and even if we were not so smart at it as we might have been, +still it was a fairly creditable operation for some boys and a +sailorman. Our main topgal'nmast was found to be 'sprung' at the heel, +and one fine morning we turned-to to send the yard and mast down. This +was rather a big job for us who had never handled but royal-yards +before; but under the able instructions of the Mate and Bo'sun, we did +our work without any serious digression from the standards of +seamanship. The Mate wondered what was making us so uncommon smart and +attentive, but when he caught sight of the 'Torreador's' watching our +operations with eager eyes, he understood, and even spurred us on by +shouting, "_Mister!_" (the boys of the _Torreador_ were thus addressed +by their Officers) "_Mister_ Hansen, please lay out 'n the topsl-yard, +'n unhook that bloody brace!" + +At dusk the 'Torreador's' had stiff necks with looking aloft so much, +and when we knocked off, with the yard and mast on deck, and the gear +stopped-up, they went below and hid their elaborate model mast under a +bunk in the half-deck. + +Soon after this a better feeling began. Eccles met one of the +'Torreador's' up-town, and an acquaintance was made. They spent the +evening together, and he learned that the other chap came from near his +place. [It was really about fifty miles from there, but what's a fifty +miles when one is fourteen thousand miles from home?] The next evening +two of them came across. "To see the ship," they said. They brought +briar pipes with them, which was rather more than we could reasonably +have expected. Thereafter nightly visits were the rule, and we became +as thick as thieves. We took them to our bosom, and told them of many +fresh ways to rob the store-room, though they had no need to go +plundering, theirs being a well-found ship. We even went the length of +elaborating a concerted and, as we afterwards found, unworkable scheme +to get even with a certain policeman who had caught our Munro a clip on +the arm with his club when that youngster was singing "Rule Britannia" +along the Water Front at half-past midnight. In the evenings our +respective commanders could be seen leaning across their poop rails, +engaged in genial conversation, addressing one another as "Captain" in +the middle of each sentence with true nautical punctiliousness. + +Once the 'Torreador's' Old Man seemed to be propounding his views on +the training of apprentices with great earnestness. What he said we +could not hear, but our Old Man replied that he had work enough "---- +to get the young 'sodgers' to learn to splice a rope, cross a +royal-yard, and steer the ship decently, let alone the trouble of +keeping them out of the store-room," and that he'd "---- nae doot but +they'd learn navigation ---- in guid time!" + +The elder boys went picnicing on the Sundays to Cliff House or +Saucilito; the second voyagers played team billiards together at the +Institute, and proposed one another to sing at the impromptu concerts; +while the young ones--those who had only been a dog-watch at sea--made +themselves sick smoking black tobacco and talking 'ship-talk' in the +half-deck. + +Thus we fraternised in earnest, and when the _Torreador_ left for Port +Costa to load for home we bent our best ensign (though it was on a +week-day), and cheered her out of the berth. + +Next week a Norwegian barque took up her vacant place. She had come +out from Swansea in ninety-eight days, and was an object of interest +for a while. Soon, though, we grew tired of the daily hammering of +'stock-fish' before breakfast, and the sight of her Mate starting the +windmill pump when the afternoon breeze came away. We longed for the +time when we, too, would tow up to Port Costa, for we had a little +matter of a race for ship's gigs to settle with the 'Torreador's' and +were only waiting for our Captains to take it up and put silk hats on +the issue. + + + + +XI + +THE 'CONVALESCENT' + +Welsh John was discharged from hospital at ten on a Sunday morning; +before dark he was locked up, charged with riotous behaviour and the +assaulting of one Hans Maartens, a Water Front saloon keeper. A matter +of strong drink, a weak head, and a maudlin argument, we thought; but +Hansen saw the hand of the 'crimps' in the affair, and when we heard +that sailormen were scarce (no ships having arrived within a +fortnight), we felt sure that they were counting on John's blood-money +from an outward-bound New Yorker. + +"Ye see, John hadn't money enough t' get drunk on," he said. "We saw +him in hospital last Sunday, an' Munro gave him a 'half' to pay his +cars down t' th' ship when he came out. Half-dollars don't go far in +'sailor-town.' I guess these sharks have bin primin' him up t' get 'm +shipped down th' Bay. The _J. B. Grace_ has been lyin' at anchor off +The Presidio, with her 'Blue Peter' up this last week or more, an' +nobody 's allowed aboard 'r ashore but Daly an' his gang. Maartens is +in with 'em, an' the whole thing 's a plant to shanghai John. Drunk or +no' drunk, John 's seen th' game, an' plugged th' Dutchman for a start." + +As it was on Munro's account that he had come by the injuries that put +him in hospital, we felt more than a passing interest in John's case, +and decided to get him clear of the 'crimps' if we could. We knew he +would be fined, for saloon-keepers and boarding-masters are persons of +weight and influence in 'Frisco town, and, although John had nearly +eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort +of confession of Jack's importance, for the Captain to disburse on his +account. It being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few +dollars among us, so we applied to James Peden, a man of substance on +the Front, for assistance and advice. + +James was from Dundee. After a varied career as seaman, whaleman, +boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he +had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of +stevedores. He was an office-bearer of the local Scottish Society, +talked braid Scots on occasions (though his command of Yankee slang +when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a +tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans. + +To James we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his +'boy-ees made things hum.' It was rather a delicate matter to do this +properly, as we had to leave it to inference that James's knowledge of +these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that +of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business +were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of +shady doings. It was nicely done, though, and James, recalling a +parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic. + +"Weel, lauds, Ah guess Joan Welsh 'r Welsh Joan 'll be ootward bound +afore the morn's nicht. They'll pit 'm up afore Judge Kelly, a bluidy +Fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a +British sailorman alane. Pluggin' a Dutchman 's naethin'; it's th' +'Rid Rag' that Kelly's doon oan. Ah ken the swine; he touched me +twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug--an ill-faured +Dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. Ah guess there's nae chance for a +lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. Noo, +withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer Captain 's no' +gaun tae pey 't. Wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's ship +bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n +Ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this Joan Welsh. +This is whaur Daly 'll come in. He'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer +man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a +fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th' chance o' a spree. Daly 'll +pey th' fine, gae yer man a nicht's rope fur a maddenin' drunk, an' +ship 'm on th' New-Yorker i' th' mornin'. There's nae help for't; +that's th' wey they dae things oot here; unless maybe ye'd pey th' fine +yersels?" + +This was our opportunity, and Munro asked for a loan till next week. +He explained the state of our purses and the uselessness of applying to +the Captain so early in the week; James was dubious. Munro urged the +case in homely Doric; James, though pleased to hear the old tongue, was +still hesitating when Munro skilfully put a word of the Gaelic here and +there. A master move! James was highly flattered at our thinking he +had the Gaelic (though never a word he knew), and when Munro brought a +torrent of liquid vowels into the appeal, James was undone. The blood +of the Standard Bearer of the Honourable Order of the Scottish Clans +coursed proudly through his veins, and, readjusting his tartan necktie, +he parted with fifteen dollars on account. + +Now a difficulty arose. It being a working day, none of us would get +away to attend the Court. We thought of Old Martin, the night +watchman. As he slept soundly during three-fifths of his night watch, +it was no hardship for the old 'shellback' to turn out, but he wasn't +in the best of tempers when we wakened him and asked his assistance. + +"Yew boys thinks nuthin' ov roustin' a man out, as 'as bin on watch awl +night." (Martin was stretched out like a jib downhaul, sound asleep on +the galley floor, when we had come aboard on Sunday night). "Thinks +nuthin' at awl ov callin' a man w'en ye ain't got no damn business +to.... W'en Ah was a boy, it was ropesendin' fer scratchin' a match in +fo'cas'le, 'n hell's-hidin' fer speakin' in a Dago's whisper!"--Martin +sullenly stretched out for his pipe, ever his first move on +waking--"Nowadays boys is men an' men 's old.---- W'y"--Martin waved +his little black pipe accusingly--"taint only t' other day w'en that +there Jones lays out 'n th' tawps'l yardarm afore me 'n mittens th' +bloody earin' 's if awl th' sailormen wos dead!" His indignation was +great, his growls long and deep, but at last he consented to do our +errand--"tho' ain't got no use for that damned Welshman meself!" + +Arrayed in his pilot cloth suit, with a sailorlike felt hat perched +rakish on his hard old head, old Martin set out with our fifteen +dollars in his pocket, and his instructions, to pay John's fine and +steer clear of the 'crimps.' We had misgivings as to the staunchness +of our messenger, but we had no other, and it was with some slight +relief that we watched him pass the nearest saloon with only a wave of +his arm to the bar-keeper and tramp sturdily up the street towards the +City. + +At dinner-time neither John nor Old Martin had rejoined the ship. We +thought, with misgiving, that a man with fifteen dollars in his becket +would be little likely to remember the miserly meal provided by the +ship, and even Browne (the Mark Tapley of our half-deck) said he +shouldn't be surprised if the 'crimps' had got both John and Old Martin +(to say nothing of our fifteen dollars). As the day wore on we grew +anxious, but at last we got news of the absentees when Peden passed, on +his way out to the Bay. The sentimental Scotsman of the morning had +thought a lot after his liberal response to Munro's appeal, and had +called round at the Police Court to see that the affair was genuine. +He was now in his right senses; a man of rock, not to be moved even by +a mention of Burns's 'Hielan' Mary,' his tartan tie had slipped nearly +out of sight beneath the collar of his coat, and the hard, metallic +twang of his voice would have exalted a right 'down-easter.' + +"Yewr man was 'up' w'en Ah got raound," he said, "up before Kelly, 's +Ah reckoned. Ah didn't hear the chyarge, but thyar was th' Dutchman +with 's head awl bandaged up--faked up, Ah guess. Th' Jedge ses t' th' +prisoner, 'Did yew strike this man?' Yewr man answers, 'Inteed to +goodness, yer 'anner, he looks 's if somebody 'd struck 'm!' Wi' that +a laugh wint raound, an' yewr man tells 's story." (James's Doric was +returning to him, and the twang of his "u's" became less pronounced.) +"He had bin in hospital, he said, wasn't very strong--here th' Dutchman +looks up, wonderin' like--had ta'en a drap o' drink wi' a man he met in +'sailor-town.' There wis talk aboot a joab ashore, an' they were in +Mertin's tae see aboot it, an' yer man sees this Mertin pit somethin' +i' th' drink. He didna like the looks o't, he said, so he ups an' gies +Mertin yin on th' heid wi' a 'schooner' gless. That wis a' he kent +aboot it, an' th' Dutchman begood his yarn. Oot o' his +kind-hertedness, he'd gie'n th' pris'ner a gless or twa, fower at th' +maist, when th' thankless villain ups an' ca's 'm names an' belts 'm on +th' heid wi' a gless. 'Pit drugs i' th' drink?' Naethin' o' th' kind! +He wis jist takin' a fly oot o't wi' the haunle o' a spune. + +"A bad business, says Kelly, a bad business! There's faur too miny av +thim British sailormin makin' trouble on th' Front. It's tin dallars, +says he, tin dallars 'r fourteen days! + +"Ah saw Daly git up frae th' sate an' he his a long confab wi' yer man, +but jist then yer auld watchman tramps in, an' efter speirin' aboot he +ups an' peys th' fine, an' they let yer man oot. Ah seen th' twa o' +them gang aff wi' Daly, an' Ah couldna verra weel ha'e onythin' tae dae +wi' them when he wis bye." + +This was James's news; he was not surprised to learn that they had not +returned to the ship, and, as he passed on, on his way to the jetty +steps, muttered, "Weel, it's a gey peety they had that five dollars +ower much, for Ah doot they'll baith be under th' 'Blue Peter' before +th' morn's mornin'." + +When we knocked off for the day we were soon ashore looking for the +wanderers, and early found plain evidence that they had been +celebrating John's 'convalescence' and release. An Italian +orange-seller whom we met had distinct memory of two seafaring +gentlemen purchasing oranges and playing 'bowls' with them in the +gutter of a busy street; a Jewish outfitter and his assistants were +working well into the night, rearranging oilskins and sea-boots on the +ceiling of a disordered shop, and a Scandinavian dame, a vendor of +peanuts, had a tale of strange bargainings to tell. + +Unable to find them, we returned to the ship. One of us had to keep +Martin's watch, and the Mate was already on the track of the affair +with threatenings of punishment for the absent watchman. + +About ten we heard a commotion on the dock side, and looked over to see +the wanderers, accompanied by all the 'larrikins' of 'sailor-town,' +making for the ship. Two policemen in the near background were there +to see that no deliberate breach-of-the-peace took place. + +Martin, hard-headed Old Martin, who stood drink better than the +Welshman, was singing '_Bound away to the West'ard in th' Dreadnought +we go_' in the pipingest of trebles, and Welsh John, hardly able to +stand, was defying the Dutch, backed by numberless Judge Kellys, and +inviting them to step up, take off their jackets and come on. + + + + +XII + +ON THE SACRAMENTO + +After our cargo was discharged we left Mission Wharf for an anchorage +in the Bay, and there--swinging flood and ebb--we lay in idleness. +There were many ships in the anchorage, and many more laid up at +Martinez and Saucilito, for the year's crop was not yet to hand, and +Masters were hanging back for a rise in freights. There we lay, idle +ships, while the summer sun ripened the crops and reared the golden +grain for the harvest--the harvest that we waited to carry round the +roaring Horn to Europe. Daily we rowed the Old Man ashore, and when he +returned from the Agent's office, we could tell by the way he took a +request (say, for a small advance "to buy a knife") that our ship was +still unchartered, and likely to be so for some time. + +To a convenient wharf the gigs of each ship came every morning, and +from then to untold hours of the night the jetty steps were well worn +by comings and goings. Some of the Captains (the man-driving ones, who +owed no man a moment) used to send their boats back to the ship as soon +as they landed, but a number kept theirs at the wharf in case messages +had to be sent off. We usually hung around at the jetty, where there +were fine wooden piles that we could carve our barque's name on when +our knives were sharp enough. With the boats' crews from other ships +we could exchange news and opinions, and quarrel over points in +seamanship. + +Those amongst us who had often voyaged to 'Frisco, and others who had +been long in the port, were looked upon as 'oracles,' and treated with +considerable respect. The _Manydown_ had been sixteen months in +'Frisco, and her boys could easily have passed muster as Americans. +They chewed sweet tobacco ("malassus kyake," they called it), and swore +Spanish oaths with freedom and abandon. Their gig was by far the +finest and smartest at the jetty, and woe betide the unwitting 'bow' +who touched her glossy varnished side with his boat-hook. For him a +wet swab was kept in readiness, and their stroke, a burly ruffian, was +always willing to attend to the little affair if it went any farther. +Our Captains came down in batches, as a rule, and there would be great +clatter of oars and shipping of rowlocks as their boats hauled +alongside to take them off. Rivalry was keen, and many were the +gallant races out to the anchorage, with perhaps a little sum at stake +just for the honour of the ship. + +We had about a month of this, and it was daily becoming more difficult +to find a decently clear space on the piles on which to carve +'_Florence_, of Glasgow.' One day the Old Man returned at an unusual +hour, and it was early evident that something was afoot; he was too +preoccupied to curse Hansen properly for being away from the boat on +business of his own, and, instead of criticising our stroke and telling +us what rotten rowers we were, as was his wont, he busied himself with +letters and papers. We put off to the ship in haste, and soon the news +went round that we were going up-river to Port Costa, to load for home. +Old Joe Niven was the medium through whom all news filtered from the +cabin, and from him we had the particulars even down to the amount of +the freight. We felt galled that a German barque, which had gone up a +week before, was getting two and twopence-ha'penny more; but we took +consolation in the thought of what a fine crow we would have over the +'Torreador's,' who were only loading at forty-five and sixpence, direct +to Hull. + +On board we only mustered hands enough to do the ordinary harbour work, +and raising the heavy anchors was a task beyond us; so at daybreak next +morning we rowed round the ships to collect a crew. The other Captains +had promised our Old Man a hand, here and there, and when we pulled +back we had men enough, lusty and willing, to kedge her up a hill. + +There was mist on the water when we started to 'clear hawse'--the +thick, clammy mist that comes before a warm day. About us bells +clattered on the ships at anchor, and steamers went slowly by with a +hiss of waste steam that told of a ready hand on the levers. Overhead, +the sky was bright with the promise of a glorious day, but with no mind +to lift the pall from the water, it looked ill for a ready passage. We +had four turns of a foul hawse to clear (the track of a week's calms), +and our windlass was of a very ancient type, but our scratch crew +worked well and handy, and we were ready for the road when the screw +tug _Escort_ laid alongside and lashed herself up to our quarter. They +tow that way on the Pacific Coast--the wily ones know the advantage of +having a ship's length in front of them to brush away the 'snags.' + +A light breeze took the mist ''way down under,' and we broke the +weather anchor out with the rousing chorus of an old sea song: + + Old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, + (_To my way-ay, Storm-alo-ong;_) + O-old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, + (_Aye! Aye! Aye! Mister Storm-along._) + + +Some friends of the Captain had boarded us from the tug, eager for the +novelty of a trip up-river in a real Cape Horner. One elderly lady was +so charmed by our 'chantey,' that she wanted the Captain to make us +sing it over again. She wondered when he told her that that was one +thing he could not do. With the rare and privileged sight of frocks on +the poop, there was a lot of talk about who should go to the wheel. +Jones worked himself into it, and laid aft in a clean rig when the Old +Man called for a hand to the wheel. There he made the most of it, and +hung gracefully over the spokes with his wrists turned out to show the +tattoo marks. + +The skipper of the tug came aboard our ship to pilot up the river, and +he directed the movements of his own vessel from our poop deck. We +passed under the guns of rocky Alcatraz, and stood over to the wooded +slopes and vineyards of Saucilito, where many 'laid-up' ships were +lying at the buoys, with upper yards down and huge ballast booms lashed +alongside. Here we turned sharply to the norrard and bore up the broad +bosom of Sacramento--the river that sailormen make songs about, the +river that flows over a golden bed. Dull, muddy water flowing swiftly +seawards; straight rip in the channel, and a race where the high banks +are; a race that the Greek fishermen show holy pictures to, when the +springs are flowing! + +With us, the tide was light enough, and our Pilot twisted her about +with the skill and nonchalance of a master hand. One of our +passengers, a young woman who had enthused over everything, from the +shark's tail on the spanker-boom end ("Waal--I never!") to the curl of +the bo'sun's whiskers ("Jest real sweet!"), seemed greatly interested +at the frequent orders to the steersman. + +"Sa-ay, Pilot!" she said, "Ah guess yew must know every rock 'bout +hyar?" + +"Wa-al, no, Miss, ah kyan't say 's Ah dew," answered Palinurus; "but Ah +reckon tew know whar th' deep wa-r-r is!" + +As we approached the shallows at the head of San Pablo Bay, the Old Man +expressed an opinion as to the lack of water, and the Pilot again +provided a jest for the moment. + +"Oh, that's awl right, Cap.; she's only drawin' twelve feet, 'n Ah kin +tak' 'r over a damp meadow 'n this trim!" + +We met a big stern-wheel ferry bound down from Benicia with a load of +freight wagons. She looked like an important junction adrift. +Afterwards we saw a full-rigged ship towing down, and when near we made +her out to be the _Torreador_, ready for sea. This was a great +disappointment to us, for we had looked forward to being with her at +Port Costa. Now, our long-dreamt-of boat-race was off (with our boat's +crew in first-class trim, too!), and amid the cheering as we met and +passed on, we heard a shrill and unmistakable '_cock-a-doodle-doo!_' +which we remembered with indignation for many a day. Tall and stately +she looked, with her flags a-peak and everything in trim: yards all +aloft, and squared to an inch and her sails rolled up without crease +like the dummy covers on the booms of a King's yacht. A gallant ship, +and a credit to the flag she flew. + +We passed many floating tree trunks and branches in the river. The +snows had come away from the Sierras, and there was spate on +Sacramento. We rode over one of the 'snags' with a shudder, and all +our jack-easy Pilot said was, "Guess that'll take some 'f th' barnacles +off 'r battum, bettr'r a week's sojerin' with the patent scrubber!" +All the same he took very good care that his own craft rode free of +obstruction. + +Rounding a bend, we came in sight of our rendezvous, but Port Costa +showed little promise from the water-side, though the sight of our old +friends, the _Crocodile_, the _Peleus_, and the _Drumeltan_, moored at +the wharf cheered us. Two or three large mills, with a cluster of +white houses about, composed the township; a large raft-like ferry +which carried the 'Frisco mail trains bodily across the river +contributed to its importance, but there was nothing else about the +place to excite the remark of even an idle 'prentice boy. + +A little way up-stream was a town, indeed; a town of happy memories. +Benicia, with its vineyards and fruit gardens, and the low, old houses, +alone perhaps in all California to tell of Spain's dominion. A town of +hearty, hospitable folk, unaffected by the hustle of larger cities; a +people of peace and patience, the patience of tillers of the vine. + +Off Martinez, where the river is wide, we canted ship, and worked back +to Port Costa against the tide. We made fast at the ballast wharf, and +our borrowed crew, having completed their job, laid aft to receive the +Captain's blessing, and a silver dollar to put in their pockets. Then +they boarded the tug, and were soon on their way back to 'Frisco. + +When Jones came from the wheel, he had great tales to tell of the +attentions the ladies had paid him. He plainly wished us to understand +that he'd made an impression, but we knew that was not the way of it, +for Old Niven had told Eccles that the pretty one was engaged to be +married to the ship's butcher, down in 'Frisco, a fairy Dutchman of +about fifteen stone six. + + + + +XIII + +HOMEWARD + +In a Sunday morning, while Benicia's bells were chiming for early Mass, +we cast off from the wharf at Port Costa and towed down Sacramento. +Though loaded and in sea trim, we were still short of a proper crew, so +we brought up in 'Frisco Bay to complete our complement. + +Days passed and the boarding-masters could give us no more than two +'rancheros' (who had once seen the sea from Sonoma Heights), and a +young coloured man, a sort of a seaman, who had just been discharged +from Oakland Jail. The Old Man paid daily visits to the Consul, who +could do nothing--there were no men. He went to the boarding-houses, +and had to put up with coarse familiarity, to drink beer with the scum +of all nations, to clap scoundrels on the back and tell them what sly +dogs they were. It was all of no use. The 'crimps' were +crippled--there were no men. + +"Wa-al, Cap.," Daly would say to the Old Man's complaint, "what kin we +dew? I guess we kyan't make men, same's yewr bo'sin 'ud make +spunyarn.... Ain't bin a darned soul in this haouse fer weeks as cud +tell a clew from a crojeck. Th' ships is hangin' on ter ther men like +ole blue! Captens is a-given' em chickens an' soft-tack, be gosh, an' +dollars fer 'a drunk' on Sundays.... When they turns 'em to, it's, +'Naow, lads, me boys! When yew'r ready, me sons!' ... A month a-gone +it was, 'Out, ye swine! Turn aout, damn ye, an' get a move on!' ... +Ah, times is bad, Cap.; times is damn bad! I ain't fingered an advance +note since th' _Dharwar_ sailed--a fortnight ago! Hard times, I guess, +an' we kyan't club 'em aboard, same's we use ter!" + +A hopeless quest, indeed, looking for sailormen ashore; but ships were +expected, and when the wind was in the West the Old Man would be up on +deck at daybreak, peering out towards the Golden Gate, longing for the +glad sight of an inward bounder, that would bring the sorely needed +sailors in from the sea. + +A week passed, a week of fine weather, with two days of a rattling +nor'west wind that would have sent us on our way, free of the land, +with a smother of foam under the bows. All lost to us, for no ships +came in, and we lay at anchor, swinging ebb and flood--a useless hull +and fabric, without a crew to spread the canvas and swing the great +yards! + +Every morning the Mate would put the windlass in gear and set +everything in readiness for breaking out the anchor; but when we saw no +tug putting off, and no harbour cat-boats tacking out from the shore +with sailors' bags piled in the bows, he would undo the morning's work +and put us to 'stand-by' jobs on the rigging. There were other loaded +ships in as bad a plight as we. The _Drumeltan_ was eight hands short +of her crew of twenty-six, and the Captain of the _Peleus_ was +considering the risk of setting off for the Horn, short-handed by +three. Sailors' wages were up to thirty and thirty-five dollars a +month, and at that (nearly the wage of a Chief Mate of a 'limejuicer') +there were no proper able seamen coming forward. Even the 'hobos' and +ne'er-do-weels, who usually flock at 'Frisco on the chance of getting a +ship's passage out of the country, seemed to be lying low. + +One evening the ship _Blackadder_ came in from sea. She was from the +Colonies; had made a long passage, and was spoken of as an extra +'hungry' ship--and her crew were in a proper spirit of discontent. She +anchored near us, and the Old Man gazed longingly at the fine stout +colonials who manned her. He watched the cat-boats putting off from +the shore, and smiled at the futile attempts of the ship's Captain and +Mates to keep the 'crimps' from boarding. If one was checked at the +gangway, two clambered aboard by the head, and the game went merrily on. + +"Where's she from, Mister?" said the Old Man to the Mate who stood with +him. "Did ye hear?" + +"Newcastle, New South Wales, I heard," said Mr. Hollins. "Sixty-five +days out, the butcher said; him that came off with the stores this +morning." + +"Sixty-five, eh! Thirty o' that for a 'dead horse,' an' there'll be +about six pound due the men; a matter o' four or five pound wi' slop +chest an' that! They'll not stop, Mister, damn the one o' them' ... +Ah, there they go; there they go!" Sailors' bags were being loaded +into the cat-boats. It was the case of: + + _The grub was bad, an' th' wages low,_ + _An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_ + + +"Good business for us, anyway," said the Old Man, and told the Mate to +get his windlass ready for 'heaving up' in the morning. + +Alas! he left the other eager shipmasters out of his count. The +Captain of the _Drumeltan_ raised the 'blood-money' to an unheard-of +sum, and two days later towed out to sea, though the wind was W.S.W. +beyond the Straits--a 'dead muzzler'! + +A big American ship--the _J. B. Flint_--was one of the fleet of +'waiters.' She was for China. 'Bully' Nathan was Captain of her (a +man who would have made the starkest of pirates, if he had lived in +pirate times), and many stories of his and his Mates' brutality were +current at the Front. No seaman would sign in the _Flint_ if he had +the choice; but the choice lay with the boarding-master when 'Bully' +Nathan put up the price. + +"Give me gravediggers or organ-grinders, boys, if ye kyan't get +sailormen," he was reported to have said. "Anything with two hands an' +feet. I guess I'm Jan--K.--Nathan, and they'll be sailormen or +'stiffs' before we reach aout!" No one knew where she got a crew, but +while the Britishers were awaiting semi-lawful service, Jan K. slipped +out through the night, getting the boarding-house runners to set sail +for him before they left the _Flint_ with her crew of drugged +longshoremen. At the end of the week we got three more men. Granger, +a Liverpool man, who had been working in the Union Ironworks, and, +"sick o' th' beach," as he put it, wanted to get back to sea again. +Pat Hogan, a merry-faced Irishman, who signed as cook (much to the joy +of Houston, who had been the 'food spoiler' since McEwan cleared). The +third was a lad, Cutler, a runaway apprentice, who had been working +ashore since his ship had sailed. It was said that he had been +'conducting' a tramcar to his own immediate profit and was anxious. We +were still six hands short, but, on the morning after a Yankee clipper +came in from New York, we towed out--with three prostrate figures lying +huddled among the raffle in the fo'cas'le. + + * * * * * + +We raised the anchor about midnight and dawn found us creeping through +the Golden Gate in the wake of a panting tug. There was nothing to +see, for the morning mist was over the Straits, and we had no parting +view of the harbour. The siren on Benita Point roared a raucous +warning as we felt our way past the Head; and that, for us, was the +last of the land. + +When we reached the schooner and discharged our Pilot, it was still a +'clock calm,' and there was nothing for it but to tow for an offing, +while we put the canvas on her in readiness for a breeze. + +At setting sail we were hard wrought, for we were still three hands +short of our complement, and the three in the fo'cas'le were beyond +hope by reason of drug and drink. The blocks and gear were stiff after +the long spell in harbour. Some of the new men were poor stuff. The +Mexican 'rancheros' were the worst; one was already sea-sick, and the +other had a look of despair. They followed the 'crowd' about and made +some show of pulling on the tail of the halyards, but they were very +green, and it was easy to work off an old sailor's trick on +them--'lighting up the slack' of the rope, thus landing them on the +broad of their backs when they pulled--at nothing! We should have had +pity for them, for they never even pretended to be seamen; but we were +shorthanded in a heavy ship, and the more our arms ached, the louder +grew our curses at their clumsy 'sodgerin'.' + +One of the three in the fo'cas'le 'came to' and staggered out on deck +to see where he was. As he gazed about, dazed and bewildered, the +Mate, seeing him, shouted. + +"Here, you! What's yer name?" + +The man passed his hand over his eyes and said, "Hans." + +"Well, Hans, you git along to the tops'l halyards; damn smart's th' +word!" + +With hands to his aching head, the man staggered drunkenly. Everything +was confusion to him. Where was he? What ship? What voyage? The +last he remembered would be setting the tune to a Dago fiddler in a +gaudy saloon, with lashings of drink to keep his feet a-tripping. Now +all was mixed and hazy, but in the mist one thing stood definite, a +seamanlike order: "Top'sl halyards! Damn smart!" Hans laid aft and +tallied on with the crowd. + +Here was a man who had been outrageously used. +Drugged--robbed--'shanghai-ed'! His head splitting with the foul +drink, knowing nothing and no one; but he had heard a seamanlike order, +so he hauled on the rope, and only muttered something about his last +ship having a crab-winch for the topsail halyards! + +About noon we cast off the tug, but there was yet no wind to fill our +canvas, and we lay as she had left us long after her smoke had vanished +from the misty horizon. + +At one we were sent below for our first sea-meal. Over our beef and +potatoes we discussed our new shipmates and agreed that they were a +weedy lot for a long voyage. In this our view was held by the better +men in the fo'cas'le and, after dinner, the crew came aft in a body, +headed by Old Martin, who said "as 'ow they wanted t' speak t' th' +Captin!" + +The Old Man was evidently prepared for a 'growl' from forward, and took +a conciliatory stand. + +"Well, men? What's the trouble? What have you to say?" he said. + +Old Martin took the lead with assurance. "I speaks for all 'ans, +Captin," he said.... "An' we says as 'ow this 'ere barque is +short-'anded; we says as 'ow there's three empty bunks in th' +fo'cas'le; an' two of th' 'ans wot's shipped ain't never bin aloft +afore. We says as 'ow--with all doo respeck, Captin--we wants yer t' +put back t' port for a crew wot can take th' bloomin' packet round the +'Orn, Sir!" + +Martin stepped back, having fired his shot, and he carefully arranged a +position among his mates, so that he was neither in front of the 'men' +or behind, where Houston and the cook and the 'rancheros' stood. + +The Old Man leaned over the poop-rail and looked at the men +collectively, with great admiration. He singled out no man for +particular regard, but just admired them all, as one looks at soldiers +on parade. He moved across the poop to see them at a side angle; the +hands became hotly uncomfortable. + +"What's this I hear, men? What's this I hear?" + +("As fine a crowd o' men as ever I shipped, Mister," a very audible +aside to the Mate.) "What's this I hear? D'ye mean t' tell me that +ye're afraid t' be homeward bound in a well-found ship, just because +we're three hands short of a big 'crowd'?" + +"Wot 'bout them wot ain't never been aloft afore," muttered Martin, +though in a somewhat subdued voice. + +"What about them?" said the Old Man. "What about them? Why, a month +in fo'cas'le alongside such fine seamen as I see before me" (here he +singled out Welsh John and some of the old hands for a pleasant smile), +"alongside men that know their work." (Welsh John and the others +straightened themselves up and looked away to the horizon, as if the +outcome of the affair were a matter of utter indifference to them.) +"D'ye tell me a month alongside men that have sailed with me before +won't make sailors of them, eh? _Tchutt_, I know different.... +Sailors they'll be before we reach the Horn." (Here one of the +potential 'sailors' ran to the ship's side, intent on an affair of his +own.) + +The men turned to one another, sheepish. + +"Ye know well enough we can't get men, even if we did put back to +port," continued the Old Man. "They're no' t' be had! Ye'll have to +do yer best, and I'll see" (a sly wink to the Mate) "that ye ain't put +on. Steward!" + +He gave an order that brought a grin of expectation to the faces of all +''ans,' and the affair ended. + +A wily one was our Old Jock! + +The Mate was indignant at so much talk.... "A 'clip' under the ear for +that Martin," he said, "would have settled it without all that +palaver"; and then he went on to tell the Old Man what happened when he +was in the New Bedford whalers. + +"Aye, aye, man! Aye, aye," said Old Jock, "I know the Yankee game, +Mister--blood an' thunder an' belayin' pins an' six-ounce +knuckle-dusters! Gun play, too, an' all the rest of it. I know that +game, Mister, and it doesn't come off on my ship--no' till a' else has +been tried." + +He took a turn or two up and down the poop, whistling for a breeze. +Out in the nor'-west the haze was lifting, and a faint grey line of +ruffled water showed beyond the glassy surface of our encircling calm. + +"Stan' by t' check th' yards, Mister," he shouted, rubbing his +hands.... "Phe ... w! Phe ... w! Phe ... w! encouraging." + + + + +XIV + +A TRICK AT THE WHEEL + +"Keep 'r full an' by!" + +"Full 'n by!" + +Houston, relieved from the wheel, reports to the Mate and goes forward, +and I am left to stand my trick. + +We are in the south-east trades; a gentle breeze, and all sail set. +Aloft, the ghostly canvas stands out against a star-studded sky, and +the masthead trucks sway in a stately circle as we heave on the light +swell. She is steering easily, asking nothing but a spoke or two when +a fluttering tremor on the weather leach of the royals shows that she +is nearing the wind. The light in the binnacle is dim and spluttering, +the glass smoke-blackened, and one can but see the points on the +compass card. South sou'-west, she heads, swinging a little west at +times, but making a good course. Eccles, who should see to the lights, +is stretched out on the wheel-box grating, resuming the thread of his +slumbers; a muttered "'ware!" will bring him to his feet when the Mate +comes round; meantime, there are stars ahead to steer by, and the +binnacle-lamp may wait. + +South of the Line, at four in the morning, is a fine time to see the +stars, if one be but properly awake. Overhead, Orion has reached his +height, and is now striding towards the western horizon. The Dog-star +is high over the mizzen truck, and Canopus, clear of the weather +backstays, is a friend to a drowsy helmsman. The Southern Cross is +clearing the sea-line, and above it many-eyed Argus keeps watch over +the Pole. Old friends, all of them, companions of many a night watch +on leagues of lonely sea. A glow to the eastward marks where the dawn +will break, and the fleecy trade-clouds about the horizon are already +assuming shape and colour. There the stars are paling, but a planet, +Jupiter, perhaps, stands out in brilliance on the fast lightening sky. + +Forward one bell is struck, and the look-out chants a long-drawn, +"Aw--ll's well!" + +The Mate, who until now has been leaning lazily over the poop rail, +comes aft, yawning whole-heartedly, as men do at sea. He peers into +the dimly-lighted binnacle, turns his gaze to the sail aloft, sniffs +the wind, and fixes me with a stern though drowsy eye. + +"H-mm! You, is it?" (I have but a modest reputation as a steersman.) +"Jest you keep 'r full now, or I'll teach ye steerin' in your watch +below. Keep 'r full, an' no damned shinnanikin!" He goes forward. + +'Shinnanikin' is a sailor word; it means anything at all; it may be +made an adjective or a verb, or almost any part of speech, to serve a +purpose or express a thought. Here it meant that there was to be no +fooling at the helm, that she was to be steered as by Gunter himself. +"Full an' by," was the word. "Full an' by, an' no damned shinnanikin!" +Right! + +The light grows, and the towering mass of canvas and cordage shows +faint shadows here and there. The chickens in the quarter coops stir +and cackle; a cock crows valiantly. Eccles, sleeping his watch on the +lee side of the poop, stirs uneasily, finds a need for movement, and +tramps irresolutely up and down his appointed station. From somewhere +out of sight the Mate shouts an order, and he goes forward to take in +the sidelights; dim and sickly they shine as he lifts them inboard. + +There is now some sign of life about the decks. A keen smell of +burning wood and a glare from the galley show that the cook has taken +up the day's duties. Some men of the watch are already gathered about +the door waiting for their morning coffee, and the 'idlers' (as the +word is at sea), the steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, in various +states of attire, are getting ready for their work. + +Two bells marks five o'clock, and the crowd about the galley door grows +impatient. The cook has a difficulty with his fire, and is behind time. + +"Come on, 'doctor'!" shouts Old Martin; "get a move on yer! Them +tawps'l 'alyards is screechin' fer a pull, an' th' Mate's got 'is +heagle heye on that 'ere fore-tack. 'E'll be a-floggin' th' clock +afore ye knows it!" + +The Mate hears this, as Martin intended he should, and scowls darkly at +that ancient mariner. Martin will have his 'old iron' worked up for +that before the watch is out. He's a hard case. Coffee is served out, +and the crowd disperses. It is now broad daylight, and the sun is on +the horizon. The east is a-fire with his radiance; purest gold there +changing to saffron and rose overhead; and in the west, where fading +stars show, copper-hued clouds are working down to the horizon in track +of the night. Our dingy sails are cut out in seemly curves and glowing +colours against the deep of the sky; red-gold where the light strikes, +and deepest violet in the shadows. Blue smoke from the galley funnel +is wafted aft by the draught from the sails, and gives a kindly scent +to the air; there is no smell like that of wood fires in the pride of +the morning. This is a time to be awake and alive; a morning to be at +the wheel of a leaning ship. + +Presently I am relieved for a few minutes that I may have my coffee. +Being the last man, I get a bo'sun's share of the grounds. To my +protests the cook gives scant heed. + +"Ach, sure! Phwat are yez growlin' at? Sure, if ye'd been in my last +ship, yez wouldn't have none at all! Devil the coffee would yez get +till eight bells ov a marnin', an' tay at thatt, bedad!" + +The 'doctor,' being Irish, is beyond argument, so I take my pannikin +along to our quarters to sift the grounds as best I can. There is +naught but dry ship's biscuit to put down with it, for it is well on in +the week--Thursday, indeed--and only Hansen among us can make his +week's rations last out beyond that; he was bred in the north. The +half-deck is in its usual hopeless disorder--stuffy and close and +dismal in the shuttered half-light. Four small ports give little air, +and sea clothes hanging everywhere crowd up the space. The beams, +blackened by tobacco smoke, are hacked and carved, covered by the +initials and remarks of bygone apprentices. Only the after one is kept +clear; there the Board of Trade inscription (slightly altered by some +inspiring genius), reads, "Certified to suffocate eight seamen." A +dismal hole on a bright morning! Happily, one has not far to go for a +breath of keen air. Ten minutes is my time, and I am back at the wheel +again. + +The Mate is seated on the cabin skylight, smoking. This is his time to +consider the trim of the sails. It is no matter that the evening +before the gear was sweated up to the tautest of sailing trim; the wind +is unchanged, but morning shows wrinkles in the clew of the royals or a +sag in the foot of a topsail. Ropes give mysteriously, and this must +all be righted before the Old Man comes on deck. So he smokes +leisurely and considers the trim. + +The day's work begins at half-past five. The Mate strikes three bells +himself, exact, on the tick of the minute, and goes forward to turn the +men to. + +"Fore tack," as Martin said, is the first order. The Mate signs to me +to luff her up, and when the sail shakes the tack is hove hard down. +Then sheets and halyards are sweated up, ropes coiled, and a boy sent +aloft to stop up the gear. At the main they have the usual morning +wrestle with the weather topsail sheet--a clew that never did fit. +Macallison's loft must have been at sixes and sevens the day they +turned that sail out; a Monday after Glasgow Fair, belike. When the +trim is right, wash deck begins. A bucket and spar is rigged, and the +clear sparkling water is drawn from overside. This is the fine job of +the morning watch in summer seas. The sound of cool sluicing water and +the swish of scrubbing brooms is an invitation that no one can resist. +There is something in it that calls for bare feet and trousers rolled +above the knee. There is grace in the steady throwing of the +water--the brimming bucket poised for the throw, left foot cocked a few +inches above the deck, the balance, and the sweeping half-circle with +the limpid water pouring strongly and evenly over the planking; then +the recovery, and the quick half-turn to pass the empty bucket and +receive a full--a figure for a stately dance! + +Now it is six, and I strike four bells. Martin has the next trick, but +I see no signs of my relief. The Mate will have him at some lowly +'work-up' job, cleaning pig-pens or something like that, for his hint +about flogging the clock in the morning. The cranky old 'shellback' is +always 'asking for it.' + +In the waist a row begins, a bicker between the sailmaker and bo'sun. +Old Dutchy is laying it off because someone has spilt water on the +main-hatch, where a sail is spread out, ready for his work. In course, +the bo'sun has called him a 'squarehead,' and 'Sails,' a decent old +Swede, is justly indignant at the insult; only Germans are squareheads, +be it known. "Skvarehedd! Jou calls me skvarehedd! Ah vass no more +skvarehedd as jou vass," he says, excited. "Jou tinks d' sheep vass +jours, mit jour vash-backet und deck-scrub. Dere vass no places for d' +sailmake, aindt it? Skvarehedd! Skvarehedd jourselluf, dam Cockney +loafer!" There are the makings of a tidy row, but the Mate, coming +from forrard, cuts it short. + +"Now, then, you men there, quit yer chinning an' get on with the work!" + +'Sails' tries to explain his grievance, but meets with little sympathy. + +"Squarehead? Well, what the hell's th' odds, anyhow? If ye ain't a +squarehead, ye'r as near it 's can be!" + +This is rough on old 'Sails,' whose proud boast is that he has been +"for thirty jahrs sailmake mit British sheeps in!" He goes sorrowfully +to his work, and bends over his seam with many shakings of the head. +"Skvarehedd!" + +Time is drawing on, and I am getting tired of my long trick, when I see +Martin coming round the deck-house. He has donned the familiar old red +flannel shirt that he stands his wheel in, and, bareheaded as he always +is at sea, he looks a typical old salt, a Western Ocean warrior. He +mounts the lee ladder, crosses to windward in the fashion of the sea, +and stands behind me. Here, I thought, is a rare chance to get at +Martin. I give him the Mate's last steering order as I got it. + +"Full an' by," I said, concealing a foolish grin; "full an' by, and no +damned shinnanikin!" Martin looked at me curiously. "No shinnanikin," +was a new order to a man who could steer blindfold, by the wind on his +cheek; to a man who had steered great ships for perhaps half a century. +On the other hand, orders were orders, meant to be repeated as they +were given, seamanlike. + +Martin squared himself, put a fresh piece of tobacco in position, and +gripped the spokes. "Full 'n' by," he said, lifting his keen old eyes +to the weather clews of the royals, "full 'n' by, 'n' no damned +shinnanikin, it is!" + + + + +XV + +''OLY JOES' + +"She'll be one o' them 'oly Joes; them wot cruises among th' Islands +wi' tracks an' picter books for th' bloomin' 'eathens!" + +"'O--ly Joes! 'Oly Joes b' damn," said Martin. "'Oly Joes is +schooners same's mission boats on th' Gran' Banks! ... 'Oly Joes! +She's a starvation Britisher, that's wot _she_ is; a pound an' pint +ruddy limejuicer by th' set o' them trucks; sailor's misery in them +painted bloomin' ports o' her." + +The subject of discussion was a full-rigged ship, standing upright in +mid-Pacific, with all her canvas furled; looking as she might be in +Queenstown Harbour awaiting orders. The south-east trades had blown us +out of the tropics, and we held a variable wind, but there was nothing +in the clean, fresh morning to cause even a Killala pilot to clew up, +and the strange sight of an idle ship in a working breeze soon drew all +hands from work and slumber, to peer over the head rail, to vent +deep-sea logic over such an odd happening. + +One of the younger hands had expressed an opinion, and Martin, who held +that "boys an' Dutchmen should only speak when spoke to," was +scornfully indignant. + +"'O--ly bloomin' Joe! ... 'Ow should she be an 'oly Joe, me young +'know-all'? Wot d'ye know 'bout 'oly Joes, anyway?" + +"Well! ... 'eard as 'ow they clews up at eight bells o' a Saturd'y +night an' prays, solid on, till they sets tawps'ls, jack-easy, ov a +Monday mornin'!" + +The laugh of derision sent him shamefaced to the fo'cas'le, and we +talked about till there was a call for all hands to haul courses up and +stand by to work ship. We hauled sharp up to windward, and, as we drew +on, we saw what was the matter, and the sight caused our Old Man to +dive below to his charts, cursing his wayward chronometer. + +We saw the loom of a low island, scarce raised above the sea, with the +surf breaking lightly, and the big ship piled up, all standing, on the +verge of the weather reef. She looked to be but lately gone on, for +her topsides were scarce weather-beaten. The boats were gone from her +skids, and the davit tackles, swinging lubberly overside, told that her +crew had left her. Aloft, she seemed to be in good trim, and her sails +were as well stowed as if she were lying in the Canning Dock with her +nose against the Custom House. We lay-to for some time with our ensign +apeak, but saw no sign of life aboard of the wreck, and when we fired a +charge from our signal-gun (a rusty six-pounder), only a few sea-birds +rose at the report. We were about to bear off on our course again when +we saw two sail rounding the reef from the west side, and beating out. + +There was but a light breeze, and they were some time in reaching us. +One was a large boat with barked canvas, going well and weatherly, but +the other, plainly a ship's lifeboat, hung heavy in the wind, and +presently her crew lowered sail and came at us under oars. The big +boat reached us first, her steersman taking every inch out of the +fickle breeze. Plainly these were no deep-water sailor-men, by the way +they handled their boat. Smart, wiry men, they had no look of +castaways, and their light cotton clothes were cleanly and in order. +As they sheered alongside they hailed us in clear, pleasant English: +one shouted, in face of our line of wondering seamen, a strange sea +salutation: + +"God bless you, Captain Leish! Are you long out?" + +"Blimy," said the bo'sun, "th' young 'un wos right after all. 'Oly +Joes they be!" + +"Mebbe 'oly Joes, but them ain't sailormen," muttered Martin sullenly; +"them's Kanakas!" + +Neither was quite right, for the boatmen were Pitcairn Islanders, and +they were soon on deck greeting us in the friendly way of men from +afar. Their leader went aft to the Old Man, and the rest remained to +tell us of the wreck, in exchange for what scant knowledge we had of +affairs. + +The island was called Oeno. The ship was the _Bowden_, of Liverpool. +She had gone ashore, six weeks back, in a northerly wind, with all sail +on her: chronometer was twenty miles out: a bad case, the whole bottom +was ripped out of her, and her ruined cargo of grain smelt abominably; +two of their men were already sick. Ugh! ... The crew of the ship had +made for Pitcairn, ninety miles to the southward; they might be there +now. They (the Islanders) had now been three weeks on the reef, +salving what they could. There was not much: they were all pretty sick +of the job, and wanted to get back to Pitcairn. Perhaps the Captain +would give them a passage; it was on the way? + +As we stood about, the Old Man and the leader of the Islanders came out +of the cabin, and talked with the others. All wanted to get back to +Pitcairn, and, the Old Man agreeing to give them a passage, we hoisted +the smaller boat on our davits, towed the other astern, and were soon +on our way towards Pitcairn. + +When we got the ship in fair sailing trim, we had a rare opportunity of +learning something of the Island and its people. Discipline was, for +the time, relaxed, and but for working ship, in which the Islanders +joined us, we had the time to ourselves. In the shade of the great +sails, we stood or sat about, and our decks showed an unusual animation +in the groups of men colloguing earnestly--strangers met by the way. + +In stature the Islanders were perhaps above the average height, lithe +and wiry, and but few were darker-skinned than a Spaniard or Italian. +They spoke excellent English (though, among themselves, they had a few +odd words), and their speech had no unnecessary adjectives. They had a +gentle manner, and no ill language; sometimes our rough ship talk +raised a slight protest; a raised hand, or a mild, "Oh, Sir!" Their +leader, who was Governor of the Island, was a man in the prime of life, +and, though dressed in dungarees and a worn cotton shirt, barefooted +like the rest, had a quiet dignity in his manner and address that +caused even our truculent Old Martin to call him Sir. There was one +outlander among them, a wiry old man, an American whaleman, who had +been settled on the Island for many years; he it was who steered the +boat, and he knew a little of navigation. + +Their talk was mostly of ships that had visited the Island, and they +asked us to run over the names of the ships that were at 'Frisco when +we left; when we mentioned a ship that they knew, they were eager to +know how it fared with her people. They had fine memories. They could +name the Captain and Mates of each ship; of the whalers they had the +particulars even down to the bulk of oil aboard. They seemed to take a +pleasure in learning our names, and, these known, they let pass no +opportunity of using them, slipping them into sentences in the oddest +manner. They themselves had few surnames--Adams, Fletcher, Christian, +and Hobbs (the names of their forefathers, the stark mutineers of the +_Bounty_)--but their Christian names were many and curious, sometimes +days of the week or even dates. They told us that there was a child +named after our Old Man, who had called off the Island the day after it +was born, five years ago; a weird name for a lassie! In one way the +Islanders had a want. They had no sense of humour. True, they laughed +with us at some merry jest of our Irish cook, but it was the laugh of +children, seeing their elders amused, and though they were ever +cheery-faced and smiling, they were strangely serious in their outlook. + +We had light winds, and made slow progress, and it was the afternoon of +the second day when we saw Pitcairn, rising bold and solitary, on the +lee bow. The sun had gone down before we drew nigh, and the Island +stood sharp outlined against the scarlet and gold of a radiant western +sky. Slowly the light failed, and the dark moonless night found us +lifting lazily to the swell off the north point. The Islanders manned +their boats and made off to the landing place. It was clock calm, and +we heard the steady creak of their oars long after the dark had taken +them. We drifted close to the land, and the scent of trees, lime and +orange, was sweetly strange. + +The boats were a long time gone, and the Old Man was growing impatient, +when we heard voices on the water, and saw, afar off, the gleam of +phosphorescence on the dripping oars. We heard the cheery hail, "The +_Florence_, ahoy!" and burned a blue light to lead them on. + +There were many new men in the boats, and they brought a cargo of fruit +and vegetables to barter with us. The Old Man heaved a sigh of relief +when he learned that the _Bowden's_ crew were disposed of; they had +taken passage in a whaler that had called, nine days before, on her way +across to Valparaiso--a 'full' ship. + +In odd corners the bartering began. Cotton clothes were in most +demand; they had little use for anything heavier. A basket of a +hundred or more luscious oranges could be had for an old duck suit, and +a branch of ripening bananas was counted worth a cotton shirt in a +reasonable state of repair. Hansen had red cotton curtains to his +bunk, full lengths, and there was keen bidding before they were taken +down, destined to grace some island beauty. After the trade in +clothing had become exhausted, there were odd items, luxuries to the +Islanders, soap, matches, needles, thread. There was a demand for +parts of old clocks--Martin it was who had a collection; they told us +that there was a man on the island who was a famous hand at putting up +and repairing such battered timepieces as we had to offer. They had +some curios; rudely carved or painted bamboos, and sea-shells cunningly +fashioned into pin-cushions, with Pitcairn in bold black letters, just +as one might see "A Present from Largs." These were the work of the +women-folk, and showed considerable ingenuity in the way the shells +were jointed. + +Although they seemed to have a good idea of the value of the trifles we +offered, there was no 'haggling,' and latterly, when trade slackened, +it came to be, "Sir! if you like this, I will give it to you, and you +will give me something." + +There was no cheating. Those of our crew who would glory in 'bilking' +a runner or a Dutchman were strangely decent, even generous, in their +dealings. When we were called away to brace the yards round, stock was +taken on both sides; the Islanders had their boats well laden, and our +once trim deck was strewn with a litter of fruit and vegetables, like +the top of Bell Street on a busy morning. + +Light was breaking into the east when we laid the yards to a gentle +breeze, and shortly the Islanders, with a great shaking of hands and +"God bless you," got aboard their boats and sheered off. We were now +to leeward of the Island, and the light showed us the bold wooded +heights, high cliffs, steep to the water's edge, and the small houses +scattered apart among the trees. Astern the boats had hoisted sail, +and were standing inshore, leaning gently to the scented land breeze. +The ''oly Joes' were singing together as they sailed; the tune was an +old familiar one that minded us of quiet Sabbath days in the homeland, +of kirk and kent faces, and, somehow, we felt that it was we who were +the 'bloomin' 'eathens,' for their song was 'Rock of Ages,' and it had +a new sound, mellowed by distance and the water. + + + + +XVI + +EAST, HALF SOUTH + +On a day of high action in sea and sky we fled, hot-foot, before the +fury of a nor'-west gale. We had run her overlong. Old Jock, for once +at any rate, had had his weather eye bedimmed. He was expecting a +quick shift into the sou'-west, a moderate gale, and a chance to make +his 'easting' round Cape Horn, but the wind hung stubbornly in the +nor'-west; there was no break in the sky, no cessation in the black +bursts of rain and sleet that swept upon us. A huge sea set up, and we +were past the time when we could, in safety, heave her to the wind. +There was nothing for it but to run--run she did. + +We had tops'ls and a reefed foresail on her while daylight lasted, but +on threat of darkness we stowed all but the foretops'l; wings enough +for the weight of a hurricane wind. Under that narrow band of +straining canvas she sped on into the murk of advancing night, while +behind the lurid western sky showed threat of a mightier blast in bank +upon bank of ragged storm-cloud. It was a wild night, never a wilder! + +In the darkness the uncanny green shimmer of breaking seas gave an +added terror to the scene of storm. Rain and stinging sleet swept +constantly over us, thundering seas towered and curled at our stern, +lapping viciously at the fleeting quarter, or, parting, crashed aboard +at the waist, filling the decks man high with a power of destruction. +Part of the bulwarks were torn from the side. That was, perhaps, the +saving of us, for the seas swept off as fast as they thundered aboard, +and the barque rode buoyant, when, with bulwarks standing, the weight +of compassed water would have held her at mercy of the next towering +greybeard. A boat on the forward skids was smashed to atoms and the +wreck swept overboard, and every moment we looked to see our crazy +half-deck go tottering to ruin. The fo'ca'sle was awash through a +shattered door, and all hands were gathered on the poop for such safety +as it held. There was nowhere else where man could stand on the +reeling hull, and crouching at the rails, wet and chilled to the +marrow, we spent the night a-watching. + +The bo'sun and Martin and Hans took turns of the steering; that was +work beyond the rest of us, and the most we could do was to stand by +a-lee and bear on the spokes with the helmsman. Dutchy was the best +steersman, and his steering was no truer than the stout heart of him. +Once she pooped, and the crest of a huge following sea came crashing on +top of us. But for our hold-fasts, all would have been swept away. +That was the time of trial. A falter at the helm--she would have +'broached-to'--to utter destruction! + +Amid the furious rush of broken water, 'Dutchy' stood fast at his post, +though there was a gash on his forehead and blood running in his +eyes--the work of the wrenching wheel. + +We showed no lights; no lamps would stand to the weather. There was +only the flickering binnacle, tended as never was temple fire, to show +the compass card. By turns we kept a look-out from the tops'l yard, +but of what use was that when we could steer but to one point. We were +a ship of chance, and God help us and the outward-bounder, 'hove-to' in +the trough, that had come between us and the east that night! + +How we looked for daylight! How it was long a-coming! How the +mountain seas raced up and hove our barque, reeling from the blow, from +towering crest to hollow of the trough! How every day of the +twenty-five years of her cried out in creak of block, in clatter of +chain sheet, in the 'harping' of the backstays, the straining groan of +the burdened masts! + +From time to time through the night the Mate and some of us would go +forward to see to the gear; there was no need to touch a brace, for the +wind blew ominously true. When we got back again, battered and +breathless, it was something to know that the foretops'l still stood +the strain. It was a famous sail, a web of '00 storm,' stitched and +fortified at seam and roping for such a wind as this. Good luck to the +hands that stitched it, to the dingy sail loft in the Govan Road that +turned it out, for it stood us in stead that night! + +Once an ill-stowed clew of the mains'l blew out with a sounding crack, +and thrashed a 'devil's tattoo' on the yard. We thought it the tops'l +gone--but no! Macallison's best stood bravely spread to the shrieking +gale, and we soon had the ribbons of the main clew fast to the yard. + +There was no broad dawn, no glow in the east to mark its breaking; the +light grew out of the darkness. The masts and spars shaped themselves +out of the gloom, till they stood outlined against the dull grey +clouds. We could see the great seas, white-streaked by lash of driven +spray, running up into the lowering sky. When day came, and the +heaving, wind-swept face of the waters became plain to us, we saw the +stormy path round the Horn in its wildest, grandest mood. Stretching +far to the black murky curtain--the rear of the last shrieking rain +squall--the great Cape Horn greybeards swept on with terrific force and +grandeur, their mile-long crests hurtling skyward in blinding foam. +The old barque ran well, reeling through the long, stormy slopes with +buoyant spring, driving wildly to the trough, smashing the foam far +aside. At times she poised with sickening uncertitude on the crest of +a greater wave, then steadied, and leapt with the breaking water to the +smoother hollow. + +The Old Man stood by the helmsman, 'conning' her on. All night he had +stood there, ordering, to the shock of following seas, a steady voiced +command. Never a gainly man--short-legged, broad, uncouth--his was yet +a figure in keeping with the scene; unkempt and haggard, blue-lipped, +drenched by sea and rain, he was never less than a Master of the Sea. +At daybreak we heard a hail from the tops'l yard, and saw the +'look-out' pointing ahead. Peering down the wind, we made out the loom +of a ship rising and falling in the trough of the sea. A big +'four-master' she proved, lying 'hove-to' the wind. We shuddered to +think of what would have been if daylight had been further delayed! + +Out of the mist and spray we bore down on her and flew by, close to her +stern. We could see figures on her poop staring and pointing, a man +with glasses at his eyes. Only a fleeting glimpse--for she was soon +swallowed up by the murk astern, and we were driving on. The shift of +wind came suddenly. Nearly at noon there was a heavier fall of rain, a +shrieking squall that blew as it had never blown. The Old Man marked +the signs--the scud of the upper clouds, a brightening low down in the +south. + +"Stan' by ... head ... yards," he yelled, shouting hoarsely to be +heard. "Quick ... the word!" + +All hands struggled to the braces, battling through the wash of icy +water that swept over the decks. + +The squall passed, followed by a lull that served us to cant the yards; +then, sharp as a knife-thrust, the wind came howling out of the +sou'-west. The rain ceased and the sky cleared as by a miracle. Still +it blew and the seas, turned by the shift of wind, broke and shattered +in a whirl of confusion. For a time we laboured through the +treacherous cross sea--the barque fretting and turning to windward, +calling for all of 'Dutchy's' cunning at the helm, but it was none so +ill with the sun in sight and a clearing overhead. + +"Blast ye," said the Old Man, shaking his benumbed arms towards the +sou'-west. "Blast ye--but ye've been a long time comin'!" + +The wind was now to his liking, it was the weather he had looked for, +and sure enough, as quick succeeding squalls rolled up on us, the sea +grew less and ran truer, and the barque sailed easier. The wind fell +to a moderate gale, and by four in the afternoon we had a reefed +foresail and the tops'ls set, and were staggering along at a great +speed. + +The decks were yet awash, there was no comfort on deck or below; but +through it all we had one consoling thought: _East, half south_, we +were covering the leagues that lay between us and our journey's end! + + + + +XVII + +ADRIFT! + +Car-conducting may be a work of niceness and despatch, but it is ill +training for working on the spars of a rolling ship. John Cutler was +mousing clew-blocks on the main-yardarm, the ship lurched heavily, the +foot-ropes were wet and slippery, and John, ill-balanced and unready, +was cast into the sea. Instant, there was the cry "Man overboard"; the +Old Man ordered the helm down, and, springing to the rack, threw a +lifebuoy from the starboard quarter; the Second Mate, not seeing him +throw it, threw another from the port. + +We were below at the time, just after dinner, about to turn in, when we +heard the call. All hands ran on deck. The watch were swinging the +head yards; some were unlashing the lee boat. We joined them, tore the +cover off, hooked the tackles, and swung her out. There was confusion; +the Old Man and the Mate shouting cross orders, the boat swinging +wildly on the tackles, men crowding about the rail. + +"Another hand in the boat," yelled the Second Mate, as he sprang into +the stern-sheets, "lower away, you!" + +There was a whirr of block sheaves, the falls smoking on the pins, a +splash, a rush of water on the rusty side. "Bow off, there! Bow off, +you!" and I found myself in the bow of the boat, tugging frantically at +the heft of a long oar. + +There was that in the steady _clack--clack-a_ of oar on rowlock to +soothe the tremors of our moment of excited haste. Astern was the +barque, her mainyards aback, rolling heavily athwart the swell; we were +leaving her slowly, for, though the breeze was light, we had to climb +the long steep slopes of a Cape Horn swell. Old Martin's broad back +was bent to the oar in front of me, Houston beyond, and the bo'sun at +the stroke. The Second Mate was standing up at the tiller, listening +for a hail, gazing anxiously ahead for gleam of a painted life-buoy. +_Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; the bo'sun was setting us a feverish +stroke; it couldn't last. _Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; we were +already breathing heavily. Up and down the heaving swell we went; +crawling laboured to the crown--the shudder, and the quick, sickening +descent! _Clack--clack-a_! Would it ever end? Now I was pulling out +of stroke--a feeble paddle. My neck! I had the pain there! ... "Bow, +there! Lay in, an' keep yer eyes about. He must be here somewhere!" + +I laid in my oar, and faced about. We could not see far, the swell was +too great. When the boat rose we had a hasty glimpse of the face of +the water, but in the hollow, the great glassy walls rose ahead and +astern. We thought we had overrun the distance, and lay-to for a time. +Then on again, shouting as we went. The Second Mate saw something on +the crest of a roller, just a glimpse, and we pulled to it. It was +Cutler's round cap; we had steered a good course. Near by we found him +with his arm twisted round the grab rope of the lifebuoy. He was dazed +and quiet when we dragged him over the stern. + +"Oh, Chris'! Oh, Chris'!" was all he said. + +We were about to return when Mr. M'Kellar thought of the second +lifebuoy. + +"Bow, there! D'ye see the other buoy; it'll be somewhere t' th' +norrard!" + +I stood up, unsteadily. There was something white in the hollow of a +farther roller. We edged over; it was but a fleck of foam. Farther +over, up and down the swell we climbed until we found it. We turned to +row back. "Back starboard! Pull port, you!" the boat's head swung +round, and we rose quickly on the following swell. + +There was a startled cry from the stern-sheets, "_O Dhia! O Dhia!_" + +Well might M'Kellar cry out, for, unobserved of any, the mist had +closed in on us. There was no ship in sight, no point to steer +for--nothing to guide; there was only the great glassy walls rising and +falling, moving up into the thickening mist. + +A panic seized us; furiously we rowed, driving the boat into it with no +thought of course or distance. She was awash underfoot before we +exhausted ourselves, and lay, breathing heavily, over the oars. + +The bo'sun was the first to regain a state of sanity. "Vast rowin'," +he cried; "vast rowin'! We cawn't do no good like this. Liy 'er to, +Mister! Liy-to; it's the ownly thing!" + +M'Kellar put the tiller over, and we brought her head to swell again. + +We stood up, all eyes a-watching; we shouted together, listened intent; +there was no friendly sail looming in the mist, no answer to our cries. +We rowed aimlessly. Sometimes we fancied we could hear a hail or a +creak of blocks. We would lash blindly at the oars till the foam flew, +then lie-to again. There was no compass in the boat, no food; only a +small barreca of water. Sometimes it is thick weather off the Horn for +days! If the mist held? + +Cutler, crouching, shivering in the stern-sheets, began to cry like a +child. Cold, wet, unnerved, he was feeling it worst of us all. "Shut +up," said the Second Mate, dragging off his jacket and throwing it over +the shivering lad. Old Martin was strangely quiet; he, too, was +shivering. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the call, +and was ill-clad for boat service. Only once did he show a bit of his +old gallant truculence. "All right, Mister! If we loses track o' th' +ship, we've got plenty o' prewisions! We can eat them lifebuoys, wot +ye was so keen a-gettin'!" + +"Oh, quit yer chinnin', ye old croak! 'Oo's talkin' abaht losin' track +o' th' ship!" The bo'sun didn't like to think! Cutler became +light-headed, and began to talk wildly; he would stand up, pointing and +shouting out, "There she is, there!" Then he began to make queer +noises, and became very quiet. There was the canvas boat cover lying +in the bottom of the boat. The bo'sun put this round him, and I was +ordered aft to rub him down. + +The cold became intense. When the heat of our mad spurt had passed, +depression came on us and we cowered, chilled to the marrow by the +mist, on the gratings of the heaving boat. Long we lay thus, Houston +and the bo'sun pulling a listless stroke to keep her head to the swell. +We had no count of time. Hours must have passed, we thought. + +"The Dago 'll hae ma trick at th' wheel, noo," said Houston strangely. +"It wis ma turn at fower bells!" + +No one heeded him. + +"They'll hae tae shift some o' th' hauns i' th' watches, eh? ... wi' +you, an' Martin, an' th' young fla' no' there!" he continued. + +"Oh, shut up, damn ye! Shut up, an' listen. _O Dhia!_ can ye hear +nocht?" M'Kellar, standing up on the stern-sheets, was casting wild +glances into the pall that enshrouded us. "Here! All together, men--a +shout!" + +A weakly chorus went out over the water. + +Silence. + +Suddenly Houston stood up. "Maister, did ye hear that--a cheep!" We +thought that he was going off like Cutler; we could hear nothing. "A +cheep, Ah telt ye, Maister; a cheep, as shair's daith!" Houston was +positive. "The jerk o' a rudder, or" ... Almost on top of us there was +a flash of blinding fire, the roar of a gun followed! + +We sprang to the oars, shouting madly--shaping out of the mist was the +loom of a square sail, there was sound of a bell struck. No need now +to talk of eating lifebuoys; Houston would be in time for his trick at +the wheel! + + * * * * * + +"What th' blazes kept ye, Mister? We saw ye pickin' th' man up! What +made ye turn t' th' norrard?" The Old Man had a note of anger in his +voice. + +"Well, Sir, we couldn't see th' other buoy, an' I thought it a peety if +we didn't pick it up; an' while we were lookin' for it, we lost track +o' th' ship," said Mister M'Kellar, ashamed and miserable. + +The Mate broke in, "Ye damn fool! D'ye mean t' tell us ye risked a +whole boat's crew for a tuppence-ha'penny lifebuoy? B'gad, it would +serve ye right if ye had t' go seekin' like th' Flying Dutchman!" The +Mate continued to curse such stupidity, but the Old Man, though +permitting the Mate to rail, was wonderfully silent. After all, +M'Kellar, like himself, was a Scotchman, and much may be forgiven to a +Scotchman--looking after his owners' property! + + + + +XVIII + +"----AFTER FORTY YEAR!" + +"Martin?" ... "_Huh!_" "Lewis?" ... "_Iss!_" "Granger?" ... "_'Ere!_" +"Ulricks?" ... "_Ya!_" "Dago Joe?" ... "_Ser!_" "'Ansen?" ... "_Yep!_" +"Bunn?" ... "_Yes!_" "Munro?" ... "_Here!_" +"Eccles?--ECCLES!--ECC--Damn your eyes, lay 'long 'ere! You goin' t' +keep awl 'ans waitin'?" Eccles joined us fumbling with the buttons of +his jacket. (Eccles, for the time limit!) "Awl 'ere," continued the +bo'sun; then reported to the Mate, "Watch is aft, Sir!" + +A surly growl that might have been, "Relieve the wheel and look-out," +came from the poop, and we were dismissed muster; the starboard watch +to their rest; we of the port to take our turn on deck. + +It was a cold, raw morning that fell to our lot. A light wind, blowing +from north of west in fitful puffs, scarcely slanted the downpour of +thin, insistent rain; rain that by the keenness of it ought to have +been snow or sleet. The sea around was shrouded in mist, and breaking +day, coming in with a cold, treacherous half-light, added to the +illusion that made the horizon seem scarcely a length away. The barque +was labouring unsteadily, with a long westerly swell--the ghost of the +Cape Horn 'greybeards '--running under her in oily ridges. + +It needed but a bite of freshening wind to rouse the sea; at the lash +of a sudden gale the 'greybeards' would be at us again--whelming and +sweeping. Even in quiet mood they were loath to let us go north, and +we jarred and rattled, rolled, lurched, and wallowed as they hove at +us. Heave as they did, we were still able to make way on our course, +standing with yards in to the quartering wind and all plain sail on her. + +Thick weather! The horizon closed to us at a length or so ahead. But +she was moving slowly, four knots at the most, and we were well out of +the track of ships! Oh, it was all right--all right; and aft there the +Mate leaned over the poop rail with his arms squared and his head +nodding--now and then! + +As the light grew, it seemed to bring intenser cold. Jackets were not +enough; we donned coats and oilskins and stamped and stamped on the +foredeck, yawning and muttering and wishing it was five o'clock and the +'doctor' ready with the blessed coffee: the coffee that would make men +of us; vile 'hogwash' that a convict would turn his face at, but what +seemed nectar to us at daybreak, down there in fifty-five! + +By one bell the mist had grown denser, and the Mate sung out sudden and +angrily for the foghorn to be sounded. + +"Three blasts, d'ye 'ear," said the bo'sun, passing the horn up to +Dago, the look-out. "_Uno! ... Doo! ... Tray!_" (Three fingers held +up.) ... "_Tray_, ye burnt scorpion! ... An' see that ye sounds 'em +proper, or I'll come up there an' hide th' soul-case out o' ye! ... +(Cow-punchin' hoodlum! Good job I knows 'is bloomin' lingo!)" + +Now we had a tune to our early rising, a doleful tune, a tune set to +the deepening mist, the heaving sea, at dismal break of day. _R-r-ah! +... R-r-ah! Ra!_ was the way it ran; a mournful bar, with windy gasps +here and there, for Dago Joe was more accustomed to a cowhorn. + +"A horn," said Welsh John suddenly. "Did 'oo hear it?" + +No one had heard. We were gathered round the galley door, all talking, +all telling the 'doctor' the best way to light a fire quickly. + +"_Iss_! A horn, I tell 'oo! ... Listen! ... Just after ours is +sounded!" + +_R-r-ah! ... R-r-ah! ... R-ah!_ Joe was improving. + +We listened intently.... "There now," said John! + +Yes! Sure enough! Faint rasps answering ours. Ulrichs said three; +two, I thought! + +"Don't ye 'ear that 'orn, ye dago fiddler," shouted the bo'sun.... +"'Ere! Hup there, one of ye, an' blow a proper blast! That damn +hoodlum! Ye couldn't 'ear 'is trumpetin' at th' back of an area +railin's!" + +John went on the head; the bo'sun aft to report. + +A proper blast! The Welshman had the trick of the wheezing 'gad jet.' +... Ah! There again! ... Three blasts, right enough! ... She would +be a square rigger, running, like ourselves! ... Perhaps we were +making on her! ... The sound seemed louder.... It came from ahead! + +R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! + +_... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh!_ + +The Mate was now on the alert, peering and listening. At the plain +answer to our horn, he rapped out orders. "Lower away main an' +fore-to'gal'ns'ls ... let 'em hang, an' lay aft and haul th' mains'l +up! Come aft here, one of you boys, and call th' Captain! Tell him +it's come down thick! Sharp, now!" + +I went below and roused the Old Man. + +"Aye ... all right," he said, feeling for his sea-boots. (South'ard of +the 'forties' Old Jock slept 'all standing,' as we say.) .... "Thick, +eh? ... Tell th' Mate t' keep th' horn goin'! ... A ship, ye say? ... +Running, eh? ... Aye! All right ... I'll be up...." + +I had scarcely reached the poop again before the Old Man was at my +back. "Thick, b'Goad," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Man, man! Why was +I not called before?" + +The Mate muttered something about the mist having just closed in.... +"Clear enough t' be goin' on before that," he said. + +"Aye, aye! Where d'ye mak' this ship? Ye would see her before the +mist cam' doon, eh?" + +"Sound that horn, forrard there!" shouted the Mate, moving off to the +gangway. "Keep that horn going, there!" + +John pumped a stirring blast.... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... +R-R-R-R-R-AH! + +We bent forward with ears strained to catch the distant note. + +... _R-r-r-r-eh!_ ... At the first answering blast Old Jock raised +his head, glancing fearfully round.... _R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r----_ +"Down hellum! DOWN HELLUM! DOWN," he yelled, running aft to the +wheel! "Haul yards forrard! Le'go port braces! Let 'm rip! Le'go +an' haul! ... Quick, Mist'r! Christ! What ye standin' at? ... +Ice! Ice, ye bluidy eedi't! Ice! Th' echo! Let go! LE'GO AN' HAUL! +LE'GO!" + +Ice! The Mate stood stupid for an instant--then jumped to the +waist--to the brace pins--roaring hoarse orders. "All hands on deck! +Haul away, there! All hands! On deck, men--for your lives!" + +Ice! At the dread cry we ran to the ropes and tailed on with desperate +energy! Ice! The watch below, part dressed, swarmed from house and +fo'cas'le and hauled with us--a light of terror in their eyes--the +terror that comes with stark reason--when the brain reels from restful +stupor at a trumpet of alarms! + +Ice! The decks, that so late had been quiet as the air about us, +resounded to the din of sudden action! Yards swinging forward with a +crash--blocks _whirring_--ropes hurtling from the pins--sails lifting +and thrashing to the masts--shouts and cries from the swaying haulers +at the ropes--hurried orders--and, loud over all, the raucous bellow of +the fog-horn when Dago Joe, dismayed at the confusion, pumped +furiously, _Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra!_ + +... _Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh!_ ... Note for note--the echo--out +of the mist! + +"Belay, all! Well, mainyards!" The order steadied us. We had time +now to look! ... There was nothing in sight! ... No towering monster +looming in our path--no breakers--no sea--no sky; nothing! Nothing but +the misty wall that veiled our danger! The Unknown! The Unseen! + +She was swinging slowly against the scend of the running swell--laying +up to the wind. Martin had the wheel and was holding the helm down, +his keen eyes watching for the lift that would mark the limit of +steering-way. The Old Man stood by the compass, bending, peering, +smiling--nosing at the keen air--his quick eyes searching the +mist--ahead--abeam--astern.... Martin eased the helm; she lay quietly +with sails edged to the wind, the long swell heaving at her--broadside +on. + +Suddenly a light grew out of the mist and spread out on both bows--a +luminous sheen, low down on the narrowed sea-line! The 'ice-blink'! +Cold! White! + +At the first glow the Old Man started--his lips framed to roar an +order! ... No order came! + +Quickly he saw the hopelessness of it; what was to happen was plain, +inevitable! Broad along the beam, stretching out to leeward, the great +dazzling 'ice-blink' warned him of a solid barrier, miles long, +perhaps! The barque lay to the wind, at mercy of the swell, drifting +dead to leeward at every heave! ... On the other tack, perhaps? There +was a misty gap to the south of us; no 'ice-blink' there! ... If she +could be put about? ... No, there was no chance! ... To gather speed +to put her about he would have to bear off towards the brightening +sheen! Already the roar of the swell, lashing at the base, was loud in +our ears! ... There was no room! No sea-room to wear or stay! + +"Embayed!" he said bitterly, turning his palms up! ... "All hands aft +and swing th' port boat out!" + +The port boat? The big boat? Had it come, so soon, to that? More +than one of us cast an anxious look at the broad figure of our Master +as we ran aft. He stood quite still, glaring out at the ice ring. + +"This is it, eh!" he muttered, unheeding the stir and cries of us. +"This is it--after forty year!" + +Madly we tore and knifed at the lashings, working to clear the big +boat. She was turned down on the skids (the fashion of thrifty +'limejuicers'), bound and bolted to stand the heavy weather. We were +handless, unnerved by the suddenness of it all, faulty at the task. +The roar of breaking water spurred us on.... A heave together! .... +Righted, we hooked the falls and swayed her up. The Mate looked aft +for the word. "Aye," said the Old Man. "Oot wi' her, an' try tae tow +th' heid roun'! On th' ither tack we micht----" He left the words +unfinished! Well he knew we could never drag three thousand tons +against that swell! + +A wild outcry turns our eyes forward. Dago Joe (forgotten on the +lookout) is running aft, his precious horn still slung from his +shoulders. "_Arretto! Arretto! Arretto!_" He yells as he runs. +"_Arretto, Capitan!_" waving his arms and signing to the Old Man to +stop the ship! Behind him, over the bows, we see the clear outline of +a small berg--an outflung 'calf' of the main ice! There is no time! +Nothing can be done! Small as the berg is--not the height of our lower +yards--it has weight enough to sink us, when aided by the heaving swell! + +"Quick with th' boat, there," yells the Old Man! He runs over to the +companion-way and dives below, jostling the Second Mate, who is +staggering up under a weight of biscuit bags. + +In a moment we have closed with the ice and are hammering and grinding +at the sheer glistening wall. At the first impact the boom goes with a +crash! Then fore-to'gallant mast--yards--sails--rigging--all hurtling +to the head, driving the decks in! A shelf of solid ice, tons weight +of it, crashes aboard and shatters the fore-hatch! Now there is a +grind and scream of buckling iron, as the beams give to the +strain--ring of stays and guy-ropes, parting at high tension--crash of +splintering wood! The heaving monster draws off, reels, and comes at +us again! Another blow and---- + +"'Vast lowering! Hold on! Hold on the boat there!" The Old Man, come +on deck with his treasured papers, has seen more than the wreck of the +head! He runs to the compass--a look--then casts his eyes aloft. +"Square mainyards!" His voice has the old confident ring: the ring we +know. "Square main yards! ... A hand t' th' wheel!" + +Doubting, we hang around the boat. She swings clear, all ready! The +jar of a further blow sets us staggering for foothold! What chance? +... "A hand t' th' wheel, here," roars the Old Man. Martin looks up +... goes back to his post. + +A man at the wheel again! No longer the fearful sight of the main post +deserted; no longer the jar and rattle of a handless helm! Martin's +action steadies us. What dread, when the oldest of us all stands there +grasping the spokes, waiting the order? ... We leave the swinging +boat and hurry to the braces! + +A 'chance' has come! The power of gales long since blown out is +working a way for us: the ghostly descendants of towering Cape Horn +'greybeards' have come to our aid! + +As we struck, sidling on the bows, the swell has swept our stern round +the berg. Now we are head to wind and the big foresail is flat against +the mast, straining sternward! + +It is broad day, and we see the 'calf' plainly as we drift under +stern-way apart. The gap widens! A foot--a yard--an oar's-length! +Now the wind stirs the canvas on the main--a clew lifts--the tops'ls +rustle and blow out, drawing finely! Her head still swings! + +"Foreyards! Le'go an' haul!" roars the Old Man. We are stern on to +the main ice. Already the swell--recurving from the sheer base--is +hissing and breaking about us. There is little room for sternboard. +"Le'go an' haul!" We roar a heartening chorus as we drag the standing +head yards in. + +Slowly she brings up ... gathers way ... moves ahead! The 'calf' is +dead to windward, the loom of the main ice astern and a-lee. The wind +has strengthened: in parts the mist has cleared. Out to the south'ard +a lift shows clear water. We are broad to the swell now, but sailing +free as Martin keeps her off! From under the bows the broken boom +(still tethered to us by stout guy-ropes) thunders and jars as we move +through the water. + +"Cut and clear away!" roars Old Jock. "Let her go!" + +Aye, let her go! ... We are off ... crippled an' all ... out for open +sea again! + + + + +XIX + +IN LITTLE 'SCOTLAND' + +It was to no purpose that Lloyds' agent pointed out the convenience and +advantage of the inner port: it was as useless for the local pilot to +look grave and recall dire happenings to Captains who had elected to +effect their repairs in the outer harbour--just here, at Port William. +Old Jock's square jaw was set firm, his eyes were narrowed to a crafty +leer; he looked on everyone with unconcealed suspicion and distrust. +He was a shipmaster of the old school, 'looking after his Owners' +interest.' He had put in 'in distress' to effect repairs.... He was +being called upon to spend _money_! + +"No, no!" he said to all their reasoning. "My anchor's doon, an' here +I stoap! I've conseedered a' that ye've pit furrit! 'Convenience tae +th' toon, if supplies are needit'? (I'll no' need that mony!) ... 'Nae +distance tae bring th' workin' gang'? (I've a wheen men here mysel'!) +... 'Nae dues tae pay'? (We're jist as cheap here!) ... No, no, +Maister Fordyce! Ye can jist mak' up yeer mind on that! We'll dae a' +th' repairs oot here! I'm no' comin' in!" + +"Oh weel! Jist as ye like, Captain! Jist as ye like! ... But--as +th' pilot here 'll tell ye--ye're in a verra bad poseetion if it comes +on tae blow f'ae the south-east! An' south-east 's a hard win', I'm +tellin' ye!" + +"Aye, aye! Jist that! ... Weel, if it comes tae blow frae th' +south-east (I'm no much feart o' that at this time o' th' year) we're +in a guid berth tae slip anchor an' run her in tae Port Stanley. It'll +be time enough then! But I'm no' goin' in there if I can help it! ... +If I brocht her in therr"--pointing to the narrows that led to the +inner harbour--"I micht hae tae wait for a fair win' tae bring her oot, +when oor bit damage is sortit.... No, no! We'll dae fine oot here. +Smooth watter! Guid holdin' ground!" + +"Oh, the holding ground is all right," said the pilot. "Eight fathom +... mud and stones! Good enough for anything but south or southeast." + +"Oh, aye!" continued the Old Man. "We'll dae fine here.... If it +wisna' for that bowsprit bein' steeved up and th' rivets stertit in th' +bows o' her, I widna' be here at a'.... Spars? ... We can mak' a' +th' spars oorsel's; tho' I'm no' sayin' but that I'd be glad o' a spar +or twa--at a moderate cost. A moderate cost, mind ye!" + +The agent laughed. "Oh weel, Captain! We're no' exactly Jews doon +here, though they say an Aberdonian (I'm fa'e Aberdeen mysel') is th' +next thing! We can gi'e ye yeer spaurs--at a moderate cost! ... But +I'll tell ye again, Captain, ye'll lose time by stoappin' oot here. A' +this traffiking back an' furrit tae Port Stanley! Bringin' th' workmen +aff in th' mornin', an' takin' them hame at e'en! Ye'll no' get th' +smiths tae stey oan th' ship. It'll be, 'Hey, Jimmy! Whaur's ma lang +drift?' or, 'Jock, did ye bring oot th' big "Monday?"' ... an' then +naethin' 'll dae but they maun be awa' back tae th' Port, tae look for +theer tools in th' bar o' th' Stanley Airms!" + +"Oh, aye!" said the Old Man. "I ken them! They'll be as keen for a +dram doon here as onywhere! But we'll attend tae that. As for th' +traffiking, I've a big boat an' a wheen idle lauds therr that'll be +nane the waur o' a lang pull! ... Onyway, I'm no' goin' t' risk bein' +held up for a fair win' when th' time comes ... an' ye may tak' it that +we're no' goin' t' lose time owre th' joab! A wheen smiths, an' mebbe +a carpenter or twa, is a' I want ... an' if we can arrange wi' th' +Captain o' this schooner--ye were speakin' aboot--t' tak' a hunner' or +a hunner' an' fifty ton o' cargo ... for th' time bein'.... No! Jist +twa beams tae be cut an' strappit.... A screw-jack an' a forge or twa! +We can ... straighten them oot in their place! ... Naethin' wrang +below th' sheer strake! ... Jist plain rivettin'...." + +Talking of the repairs and their relation to the great god of Economy, +Old Jock led the way to the gangway and watched his visitors depart. + +In all he said the Old Man spoke his 'braidest' Scotch. This was +right! We had reached the Falkland Islands in safety, and what more +natural than that he should speak the language of the country? Even +the German saloon-keepers who had boarded us on arrival--to proffer +assistance in our distress--said 'aye' for yes, and 'Ach! Awa' wi' +ye'--a jocular negative! Nor did the resemblance to our 'ain countree' +end there. Port William was typical of a misty Scotch countryside: the +land about us was as bleak and home-like as a muirland in the Stewartry. + +A bare hill-side sloping to the sea, with here and there straggling +acres of cultivated land. A few wooden houses nestling in the bends +and gullies, where small streamlets ran. Uplands, bare of trees and +hedge growth, stretching away inland in a smooth coat of waving grass. +Grass, grass, grass--a sheep fank--a patch of stony hill-side--a +solitary hut, with blue smoke curling above--a misty sky-line--lowering +clouds, and the setting sun breaking through in fleeting patches. Port +William! A quiet place for anchorage after our stormy times! No ships +riding with us under the lee of the land! No sign of human life or +movement in the lonely bay! No noise! Quiet! Only the plaintive +cries of sea-birds that circled and wheeled about us, and the distant +_baa-ing_ of sheep on the green hill-side! + + * * * * * + +'No time was to be lost,' as the Old Man had said. Soon the quiet of +our lonely anchorage was broken by a din of strenuous work. The +sea-birds flew affrighted from the clang of fore-hammers and the roar +of forge fires. + +Our damage was all on the bows. The to'gallan'mast, in its fall, had +wrecked the starboard side of the fo'cas'le; the decks were smashed in; +some beams were broken, others were twisted and bent. The hull plating +had not escaped, and a big rent showed where the grinding ice had +forced the stout cat-head from its solid bed. These were minor +affairs--something might have been done to put them right without +coming to port--but the bowsprit! Ah! It was the bowsprit that had +brought us in! + +"It's no use talking," the Old Man had said when he and the Mate were +considering the damage. "That bowsprit! ... Spars? ... We could +make th' spars good; ... an' we could do a fair joab wi' th' ironwork! +... But th' bowsprit! ... No, no! We can't sail th' ship unless +we're sure o' th' head-gear! ... No use! No use talking, Mister! +We'll have t' bear up for th' Falklands, and get that put to rights!" + +If further cause were needed to justify the serious course of 'putting +in,' they had it when the carpenter reported water in the forepeak; and +it was discovered that the broken jibboom had not hammered at the bows +for nothing. No hesitation then! No talk! The course was set! + +Although the Falklands are famed as a refuge for vessels 'in distress,' +there was then no great facilities for repair. It is enough if the +ships stagger into port in time to save the lives of their crews. Port +Stanley had many such sheer hulks lying to rust and decay in the +landlocked harbour. Good ships that had cleared from the Channel in +seaworthiness; crossed the Line with a boastful "_All well!_" to a +homeward-bounder; steered south into the 'roaring forties'--to meet +disaster in fire, or wind, or sea, and falter into the Falklands with +the boats swung out! + +There was then no firm of ship repairers on the Islands. The most Mr. +Fordyce could do for us was to find workmen, and a schooner to take +part of our cargo and lighten us sufficiently to get at the leaky +rivets. Old Jock had to set up as a master shipwright and superintend +the repairs himself. And who better? Had he not set Houston's leg as +straight as a Gilmorehill Professor could? He was the man; and there +was no sign of hesitation when he got out his piece of chalk and made +marks (as many and as mysterious as a Clydeside gaffer's) on the +damaged ironwork! Such skilled labour as he could get--'smiths' from +the sheep camps (handy men, who were by turns stonemasons or +woolpackers or ironworkers)--were no great hands at ship-work; but the +Old Man, with his rough, chalked sketches, could make things plain; he +had, too, the great advantage of knowing the Islanders' language and +its proper application to the ordering of 'wis'like' men! What might +have been put elsewhere as, "What th' hell sort of work do you call +this?" he translated to, "Man, man, Jock Steel! Could ye no' pit a +fairer bend oan that knee?" ... Jock (who would have thrown down his +tools, and "on with his jacket" at the first) would perhaps turn red at +the kindlier reproof, mutter "Well, well," and have another try at the +stubborn knee. + +It was slow work, for all the din and clatter. Forge fires are +devilish in the hands of an unskilled blower; rivets break and twist +and get chilled when the striking is squint and irregular; iron is +tough and stubborn when leverage is misapplied. There were +difficulties. (Difficulties that wee Jonny Docherty, a Partick rivet +'b'ye,' would have laughed at!) The difficulty of strapping cut beams +to make them span their former length; the difficulty of small rivets +and big holes, of small holes and big rivets ... the sheer despair when +sworn measurements go unaccountably and mysteriously wrong in practice. + +All difficulties! Difficulties to be met and overcome! + +Every one of us had a turn at the ironwork. There was odd work that we +could do while the 'smiths' were heating and hammering at the more +important sections. We made a feeble show, most of us; but Joe Granger +gained honour in suggesting ways and showing how things were done. It +was the time of Granger's life. He was not even a good sailorman. His +steering was pitiful. Didn't Jones have to show him how the royal +buntlines led? What did Martin say about the way he passed a +head-earring? A poor sailorman! ... Yet here he was: bossing us +around; Able Seamen carrying tools to him; Old Man listening quite +decently to his suggestions--even the hard-case Mate (who knew Granger, +if anyone did) not above passing a word now and then! ... And all +because Granger had worked in the Union Ironworks at 'Frisco. At first +I am sure it was a _holder-on_ he told us he had been, but before our +job had gone far it was a whilom _foreman shipwright_ who told us what +was to be done! ... If Armstrong, the carpenter, had not taken up a +firm stand when it came to putting in the deck, there would have been +hints that we had a former _under-manager_ among us! It was the time +of Joe's life, and the bo'sun could only chuckle and grin and wag his +head in anticipation of 'proper sailor-work' on the mast and spars. + +It was good for us brassbounders to lie at Port William, where there +was little but the work in progress to interest us. In the half-deck +we were full of ship repairs. Little else was talked about when we +were below. Each of us carried a small piece of chalk, all ready to +make rough drawings to explain our ideas. We chalked on the walls, the +table, the deck, the sea-chests, lines and cross-lines, and bends and +knees--no matter what, so long as there were plenty of round "O's" to +show where the rivets were to go. We explained to one another the +mysteries of ship construction, talked loftily of breasthooks and sheer +strakes, and stringers and scantlings ... and were as wise after the +telling! That was while the ironwork repairs were in progress. In a +week or more we were spar-makers. Jock Steel and his mates put down +their drifts and hammers, and took up adzes and jack-planes. We were +getting on! We had no time for anyone who drew sketches of riveting. +It was 'striking cambers' and 'fairing' and 'tapering' now, and Joe +Granger got a cool reception when he came along to the half-deck after +work was over for the day. Poor Joe had fallen from his high place! +With the bowsprit hove down and securely strapped and riveted, and the +last caulking blow dealt at the leaky doubling, his services became of +small account. No one in the fo'cas'le would listen any longer to his +tales of structural efficiency. There was no spar-making in the Union +Ironworks at 'Frisco. Joe had to shut up, and let Martin and the +bo'sun instruct the ship's company in the art of masting and +rigging--illustrated by match-sticks and pipe-stems! + +There were pleasant intervals to our work on board--days when we rowed +the big boat through the Narrows to Port Stanley and idled about the +'town,' while the Old Man and Mr. Fordyce were transacting business +(under good conditions) in the bar-parlour of the Stanley Arms. We +made many friends on these excursions. The Falklanders have warm +hearts, and down there the Doric is the famous passport. We were +welcome everywhere, though Munro and I had to do most of the talking. +It was something for the Islanders to learn how the northern Scottish +crops had fared (eighteen months ago), or 'whatna'' catch of herrings +fell to the Loch Fyne boats (last season but one). + +There was no great commercial activity in the 'town.' The '_Great +Britian_' hulk, storehouse for the wool, was light and high in the +water. The sawmill hulks were idle for want of lumber to be dressed. +It was the slack time, they told us; the slack time before the rush of +the wool-shearing. In a week, or a month at the most, the sheep would +be ready for the shears. Then--ah, then!--Wully Ramsey (who had a head +for figures) would be brought forward, and, while his wind held out, +would hurl figures and figures at us, all proving that 'Little +Scotland,' for its size, was a 'ferr wunner' at wool production. + +The work of the moment was mostly at breaking up the wreck of the +_Glenisla_, a fine four-masted barque that had come in 'with the flames +as high as th' foreyard,' and had been abandoned as a total wreck. Her +burnt-out shell lay beached in the harbour, and the plates were being +drifted out, piece by piece, to make sheep tanks and bridge work. It +was here that the Old Man--'at a moderate cost, mind ye'--picked up a +shell-plate and knees and boom irons to make good our wants. A spar, +too (charred, but sound), that we tested by all the canons of +carpentry--tasting, smelling, twanging a steel at one end and listening +for the true, sound note at the other. It was ours, after hard +bargaining, and Mason, the foreman wrecker, looked ill-pleased with his +price when we rolled the timber down to tide mark, launched, and towed +it away. + +Pleasant times! But with the setting up of the new boom the Old Man +was anxious to get under weigh. The to'gallant mast could wait till +the fine weather of the 'trades.' We were sound and seaworthy again! +Outside the winds were fair and southerly. We had no excuse to lie +swinging at single anchor. Jock Steel and his mates got their +blessing, our 'lawin'' was paid and acquitted, and on a clear November +morning we shook out the topsails and left Port William to the circling +sea-birds. + + + + +XX + +UNDER THE FLAG + +A black, threatening sky, with heavy banks of indigo-tinted clouds +massed about the sea-line. A sickly, greenish light high up in the +zenith. Elsewhere the gloom of warring elements broken only by flashes +of sheet lightning, vivid but noiseless. The sea, rolling up from the +sou'-west in a long glassy swell, was ruffled here and there by the +checks of a fitful breeze. It needed not a deadly low barometer to +tell us of a coming storm; we saw it in the tiers of hard-edged +fearsome clouds, breaking up and re-forming, bank upon bank, in endless +figurations. Some opposing force was keeping the wind in check; there +was conflict up there, for, though masses of detached cloud were +breaking away and racing o'er the zenith, we held but a fitful gusty +breeze, and our barque, under low sail, was lurching uneasily for want +of a steadying wind. + +It was a morning of ill-omen, and the darkling sky but reflected the +gloom of our faces; our thoughts were in keeping with the day, for we +had lost a shipmate, one among us was gone, Old Martin was dead. + +He died sometime in the middle watch, no one knew when. He was awake +when the watch came below at midnight, for Welsh John had given him +matches for his pipe before turning in. That was the last, for when +they were called at four, Martin was cold and quiet. There was no +trouble on his face, no sign of pain or suffering. Belike the old man +had put his pipe aside, and finding no shipmate awake to 'pass the +word,' had gently claimed his Pilot. + +There was no great show of grief when it was known. Perhaps a bit +catch in the voice when speaking of it, an unusual gentleness in our +manner towards one another, but no resemblance of mourning, no shadow +of woe. His was no young life untimely ended, there was no accident to +be discussed, no blame to be apportioned. It was just that old lamp +had flickered out at last. Ours was a sense of loss, we had lost a +shipmate. There would be another empty bunk in the fo'cas'le, a hand +less at the halyards, a name passed over at muster; we would miss the +voice of experience that carried so much weight in our affairs--an +influence was gone. + +At daybreak we stood around to have a last look at the strong old face +we had known so long. The sailmaker was sewing him up in the clew of +an old topsail, a sailorly shroud that Martin would have chosen. The +office was done gently and soberly, as a shipmate has a right to +expect. A few pieces of old chain were put in to weight him down, all +ship-shape and sailor-fashion, and when it was done we laid him out on +the main hatch with the Flag he had served cast over him. + +"There goes a good sailorman," said one of the crowd; "'e knowed 'is +work," said another. + +"A good sailorman--'e knowed 'is work!" That was Martin's +epitaph--more, he would not want. + +His was no long illness. A chill had settled into bronchitis. Martin +had ever a fine disregard for weatherly precautions; he had to live up +to the name of a 'hard case.' Fits of coughing and a high temperature +came on him, and he was ordered below. At first he was taken aft to a +spare room, but the unaccustomed luxury of the cabin so told on him +that when he begged to be put in the fo'cas'le again, the Old Man let +him go. There he seemed to get better. He had his shipmates to talk +to; he was even in a position to rebuke the voice of youth and +inexperience when occasion required, though with but a shadow of his +former vehemence. Though he knew it would hurt him, he would smoke his +pipe; it seemed to afford him a measure of relief. The Old Man did +what he could for him, and spent more time in the fo'cas'le than most +masters would have done. Not much could be done, for a ship is +ill-fitted for an ailing man. At times there were relapses; times when +his breathing would become laboured. Sometimes he became delirious and +raved of old ships, and storms, and sails, then he would recover, and +even seemed to get better. Then came the end. The tough old frame +could no longer stand the strain, and he passed off quietly in the +silence of middle night. + +He was an old man, none knew how old. The kindly clerks in the +shipping office had copied from one discharge note to the other when +'signing him on,' and he stood at fifty-eight on our articles; at +sixty, he would never have got a 'sight.' He talked of old ships long +since vanished from the face of the waters; if he had served on these +he must have been over seventy years. Sometimes, but only to favoured +shipmates, he would tell of his service aboard a Yankee cruiser when +Fort Sumter fell, but he took greater pride in having been bo'sun of +the famous _Sovereign of the Seas_. + +"Three hundred an' seventy miles," he would say; "that wos 'er day's +travellin'! That's wot Ah calls sailin' a ship. None o' yer damn +'clew up an' clew down,' but give 'er th' ruddy canvas an'--let 'er go, +boys!" + +He was of the old type, bred in a hard sea-school. One of his boasts +was that he had sailed for five years in packet ships, 'an' never saw +th' pay table.' He would 'sign on' at Liverpool, giving his +boarding-master a month's advance note for quittance. At New York he +would desert, and after a bout ashore would sail for Liverpool in a new +ship. There was a reason for this seeming foolish way of doing. + +"None o' yer slavin' at harbour jobs an' cargo work; not fer me, me +sons! Ah wos a sailorman an' did only sailorin' jobs. Them wos th' +days w'en sailormen wos men, an' no ruddy cargo-wrastlin', coal-diggin' +scallywags, wot they be now!" + +A great upholder of the rights of the fo'cas'le, he looked on the Mates +as his natural enemies, and though he did his work, and did it well, he +never let pass an opportunity of trying a Mate's temper by outspoken +criticism of the Officers' way of handling ship or sail. Apprentices +he bore with, though he was always suspicious of a cabin influence. + +That was Martin, our gallantly truculent, overbearing Old Martin; and, +as we looked on the motionless figure outlined by folds of the Flag, we +thought with regret of the time we took a pleasure in rousing him to a +burst of sailorly invective. Whistling about the decks, or flying past +him in the rigging with a great shaking of the shrouds when the 'crowd' +was laying aloft to hand sail. "Come on, old 'has-been'!" Jones once +shouted to him as he clambered over the futtock shrouds. Martin was +furious. + +"Has-been," he shouted in reply. "Aye, mebbe a 'has-been,' but w'en ye +comes to my time o' life, young cock, ye can call yerself a +'never-bloody-wos'!" + +Well! His watch was up, and when the black, ragged clouds broke away +from the sou'-west and roused the sea against us, we would be one less +to face it, and he would have rest till the great call of 'all hands'; +rest below the heaving water that had borne him so long. + + * * * * * + +Surely there is nothing more solemn than a burial at sea. Ashore there +are familiar landmarks, the nearness of the haunts of men, the +neighbourly headstones, the great company of the dead, to take from the +loneliness of the grave. Here was nothing but a heaving ship on the +immensity of mid-ocean, an open gangway, a figure shrouded in folds of +a Flag, and a small knot of bare-headed men, bent and swaying to meet +the lurches of the vessel, grouped about the simple bier. The wind had +increased and there was an ominous harping among the backstays. The +ship was heaving unsteadily, and it was with difficulty we could keep a +balance on the wet, sloping deck. Overhead the sky was black with the +wrack of hurrying clouds, and the sullen grey water around us was +already white-topped by the bite of freshening wind. + +"I am th' Resurrection an' the Life, saith th' Loard"--Martin, laid on +a slanted hatch, was ready for the road, and we were mustered around +the open gangway. The Old Man was reading the service in his homely +Doric, and it lost nothing of beauty or dignity in the +translation--"an' whosoever liveth an' believeth in me sall never die." +He paused and glanced anxiously to windward. There was a deadly check +in the wind, and rain had commenced to fall in large, heavy drops. "A +hand t' th' tops'l halyards, Mister," quietly, then continuing, "I know +that my Redeemer liveth, an' that He sail stand at th' latter day upon +th' airth. An' though ... yet in my flesh sail I see Goad...." +Overhead, the sails were thrashing back and fore, for want of the +breeze--still fell the rain, lashing heavily now on us and on the +shrouded figure, face up, that heeded it not. + +Hurriedly the Old Man continued the service--"Foreasmuch as it hath +pleased Almighty Goad of his gre--at merrcy t' take unto Himself th' +so-al of oor de-ar brother, here departed, we therefore commit he's +boady t' th' deep ... when th' sea sall give up her daid, an' th' life +of th' worl-d t' come, through oor Loard, Jesus Christ." + +At a sign, the Second Mate tilted the hatch, the two youngest boys held +the Flag, and Martin, slipping from its folds, took the water feet +first in a sullen, almost noiseless, plunge. + +"Oor Father which airt in heaven"--with bent head the Old Man finished +the service. He was plainly ill at ease. He felt that the weather was +'making' on him, that the absence from the post of command (the narrow +space between wheel and binnacle) was ill-timed. Still, his sense of +duty made him read the service to a finish, and it was with evident +relief he closed the book, saying, "Amen! Haul th' mains'l up, Mister, +an' stand by t' square mainyards! ... Keep th' watch on deck; it's +'all hands'--thon," pointing to the black murk spreading swiftly over +the weather sky. + +We dragged the wet and heavy mains'l to the yard and stood by, waiting +for the wind. Fitful gusts came, driving the rain in savage, searching +bursts; then would come a deadly lull, and the rain beating on us, +straight from above--a pitiless downpour. It was bitter cold, we were +drenched and depressed as we stood shivering at the braces, and we +wished for the wind to come, to get it over; anything would be better +than this inaction. + +A gust came out of the sou'-west, and we had but squared the yards when +we heard the sound of a master wind on the water. + +Shrieking with fury long withheld, the squall was upon us. We felt the +ship stagger to the first of the blast; a furious plunge and she was +off--smoking through the white-lashed sea, feather-driven before the +gale. It could not last; no fabric would stand to such a race. "Lower +away tops'l halyards!" yelled the Old Man, his voice scarce audible in +the shrilling of the squall. The bo'sun, at the halyards, had but +started the yard when the sheet parted; instant, the sail was in +ribbons, thrashing savagely adown the wind. It was the test for the +weakest link, and the squall had found it, but our spars were safe to +us, and, eased of the press, we ran still swiftly on. We set about +securing the gear, and in action we gave little thought to the event +that had marked our day; but there was that in the shriek of wind in +the rigging, in the crash of sundered seas under the bows, in the cries +of men at the downhauls and the thundering of the torn canvas that sang +fitting Requiem for the passing of our aged mariner. + + + + +XXI + +DOLDRUMS + +"Lee fore-brace!" + +Mister M'Kellar stepped from the poop and cast off the brace coils with +an air of impatience. It wanted but half an hour of 'knocking off +time'--and that half-hour would be time enough, for his watch to finish +the scraping of the deck-house--but the wind waits on no man, and +already the weather clew of the mainsail was lifting lazily to a shift. +It was hard to give up the prospect of having the house all finished +and ship-shape before the Mate came on deck (and then trimming yards +and sail after the _work_ was done); but here was the wind working +light into the eastward, and the sails nearly aback, and any minute +might bring the Old Man on deck to inquire, with vehemence, "What the +---- somebody was doing with the ship?" There was nothing else for it; +the house would have to stand. + +"_T--'tt_, lee-fore-brace, the watch there!" Buckets and scrapers were +thrown aside, the watch mustered at the braces, and the yards were +swung slowly forward, the sails lifting to a faint head air. + +This was the last of the south-east trades, a clean-running breeze that +had carried us up from 20° S., and brace and sheet blocks, rudely +awakened from their three weeks' rest, creaked a long-drawn protest to +the failing wind; ropes, dry with disuse, ran stiffly over the sheaves, +and the cries of the men at the braces added the human note to a chorus +of ship sounds that marked the end of steady sailing weather. + +"_He--o--ro_, round 'm in, me sons; +_ho--io--io_--lay-back-an'-get-yer-muscle-up-fer ghostin' through th' +doldrums!" Roused by the song (broad hints and deep-sea pleasantries) +of the chanteyman, the Old Man came on deck, and paced slowly up and +down the poop, whistling softly for wind, and glancing expectantly +around the horizon. Whistle as he might, there was no wisp of stirring +cloud, no ruffling of the water, to meet his gaze, and already the sea +was glassing over, deserted by the wind. Soon what airs there were +died away, leaving us flat becalmed, all signs of movement vanished +from the face of the ocean, and we lay, mirrored sharply in the +windless, silent sea, under the broad glare of an equatorial sun. + +For a space of time we were condemned to a seaman's purgatory; we had +entered the 'doldrums,' that strip of baffling weather that lies +between the trade winds. We would have some days of calm and heavy +rains, sudden squalls and shifting winds, and a fierce overhead sun; +and through it all there would be hard labour for our crew (weak and +short-handed as we were), incessant hauling of the heavy yards, and +trimming of sail. Night or day, every faint breath of wind a-stirring, +every shadow on the water, must find our sail in trim for but a flutter +of the canvas that would move us on; any course with north in it would +serve. "Drive her or drift her," by hard work only could we hope to +win into the steady trade winds again, into the gallant sailing weather +when you touch neither brace nor sheet from sunset to sunrise. + +Overhead the sails hung straight from the head-ropes, with not even a +flutter to send a welcome draught to the sweltering deck below. +Everywhere was a smell of blistering paint and molten pitch, for the +sun, all day blazing on our iron sides, had heated the hull like a +furnace wall. Time and again we sluiced the decks, but still pitch +oozed from the gaping seams to blister our naked feet, and the moisture +dried from the scorched planking almost as quickly as we could draw the +water. We waited for relief at sundown, and hoped for a tropical +downpour to put us to rights. + +Far to the horizon the sea spread out in a glassy stillness, broken +only by an occasional movement among the fish. A widening ring would +mark a rise--followed by the quick, affrighted flutter of a shoal of +flying fish; then the dolphin, darting in eager pursuit, the sun's rays +striking on their glistening sides at each leap and flurry. A few +sharp seconds of glorious action, then silence, and the level sea +stretching out unbroken to the track of the westing sun. + +Gasping for a breath of cooler air, we watched the sun go down, but +there was no sign of wind, no promise of movement in the faint, vapoury +cirrhus that attended his setting. + + * * * * * + +Ten days of calms (blazing sun or a torrent of rain) and a few faint +airs in the night time--and we had gained but a hundred miles. 'Our +smart passage,' that we had hoped for when winds were fair and fresh, +was out of question; but deep-sea philosophy has a counter for every +occasion, and when the wind headed us or failed, someone among us would +surely say, "Well, wot's th' odds, anyway? More bloomin' days, more +bloomin' dollars, ain't it?" Small comfort this to the Old Man, who +was now in the vilest of tempers, and spent his days in cursing the +idle steersman, and his nights in quarrelling with the Mates about the +trim. If the yards were sharp up, it would be, "What are ye thinkin' +about, Mister? Get these yards braced in, an' look damn smart about +it!" If they were squared, nothing would do but they must be braced +forward, where the sails hung straight down, motionless, as before. +Everything and everybody was wrong, and the empty grog bottles went +'_plomp_' out of the stern ports with unusual frequency. When we were +outward bound, the baffling winds that we met off Cape Horn found him +calm enough; they were to be expected in that quarter, and in the stir +and action of working the ship in high winds, he could forget any +vexation he might have felt; but this was different, there was the +delay at the Falklands, and here was a further check to the passage--a +hundred miles in ten days--provisions running short, grass a foot long +on the counter, and still no sign of wind. There would be no +congratulatory letter from the owners at the end of this voyage, no +kindly commending phrase that means so much to a shipmaster. Instead +it would be, "We are at a loss to understand why you have not made a +more expeditious passage, considering that the _Elsinora_, which +sailed," etc., etc. It is always a fair wind in Bothwell Street! It +was maddening to think of. "Ten miles a day!" Old Jock stamped up and +down the poop, snarling at all and sundry. To the steersman it was, +"Blast ye, what are ye lookin' round for? Keep yer eye on th' royals, +you!" The Mates fared but little better. "Here, Mister," he would +shout; "what's th' crowd idlin' about for? Can't ye find no work t' +do? D'ye want me t' come and roust them around? It isn't much use o' +me keepin' a dog, an' havin' t' bark myself!" + +It was a trying time. If the Old Man 'roughed' the Mates, the Mates +'roughed' us, and rough it was. All hands were 'on the raw,' and +matters looked ugly between the men and Officers, and who knows what +would have happened, had not the eleventh day brought the wind. + +It came in the middle watch, a gentle air, that lifted the canvas and +set the reef points drumming and dancing at each welcome flutter, and +all our truculence and ill-temper vanished with the foam bubbles that +rose under our moving fore-foot. + +The night had fallen dark and windless as any, and the first watch held +a record for hauling yards and changing sheets. "'Ere ye are, boys," +was the call at eight bells. "Out ye comes, an' swigs them b----y +yards round; windmill tatties, an' th' Old Man 'owlin' like a dancin' +---- dervish on th' lid!" The Old Man had been at the bottle, and was +more than usually quarrelsome; two men were sent from the wheel for +daring to spit over the quarter, and M'Kellar was on a verge of tears +at some coarse-worded aspersion on his seamanship. The middle watch +began ill. When the wind came we thought it the usual fluke that would +last but a minute or two, and then, "mains'l up, an' square mainyards, +ye idle hounds!" But no, three bells, four bells, five, the wind still +held, the water was ruffling up to windward, the ship leaning +handsomely; there was the welcome heave of a swell running under. + +So the watch passed. There were no more angry words from the poop. +Instead, the Old Man paced to and fro, rubbing his hands, in high good +humour, and calling the steersman "m' lad" when he had occasion to con +the vessel. After seeing that every foot of canvas was drawing, he +went below, and the Second Mate took his place on the weather side, +thought things over, and concluded that Old Jock wasn't such a bad +sort, after all. We lay about the decks, awaiting further orders. +None came, and we could talk of winds and passages, or lie flat on our +backs staring up at the gently swaying trucks, watching the soft clouds +racing over the zenith; there would be a spanking breeze by daylight. +A bell was struck forward in the darkness, and the 'look-out' chanted a +long "Awl--'s well!" + +All was, indeed, well; we had picked up the north-east trades. + + + + +XXII + +ON SUNDAY + +Sunday is the day when ships are sailed in fine style. On week days, +when the round of work goes on, a baggy topsail or an ill-trimmed yard +may stand till sundown, till the _work_ be done, but Sunday is sacred +to keen sailing; a day of grace, when every rope must be a-taut-o, and +the lifts tended, and the Mates strut the weather poop, thinking at +every turn of suitable manoeuvres and sail drill that will keep the +sailormen from wearying on this, their Day of Rest. + +On a fine Sunday afternoon we lay at ease awaiting the Mate's next +discovery in the field of progress. She was doing well, six knots or +seven, every stitch of sail set and drawing to a steady wind. From +under the bows came the pleasing _thrussh_ of the broken water, from +aloft the creak of block and cordage and the sound of wind against the +canvas. For over an hour we had been sweating at sheets and halyards, +the customary Sunday afternoon service, and if the _Florence_, of +Glasgow, wasn't doing her best it was no fault of ours. + +Now it was, "That'll do, the watch!" and we were each following our +Sunday beat. + +Spectacled and serious, 'Sails' was spelling out the advertisements on +a back page of an old _Home Notes_; the two Dutchmen were following his +words with attentive interest. The Dagos, after the manner of their +kind, were polishing up their knives, and the 'white men' were brushing +and airing their 'longshore togs,' in readiness for a day that the +gallant breeze was bringing nearer. A scene of peaceful idling. + +"As shair's daith, he's gotten his e'e on that fore-tops'l sheet. Ah +telt ye; Ah telt ye!" Houston was looking aft. "Spit oan yer hauns, +lauds! He's seen it. We're gaun tae ha'e anither bit prayer for th' +owners!" + +The Mate had come off the poop, and was standing amidships staring +steadily aloft. + +"Keep 'oor eyes off that tops'l sheet, I tell 'oo," said Welsh John +angrily. "He can't see it unless he comes forra'd; if he sees 'oo +lookin', it's forra'd he'll be, soon, indeed!" + +There were perhaps a couple of links of slack in the tops'l sheet, a +small matter, but quite enough to call for the watch tackle--on a +Sunday. The crisis passed; it was a small matter on the main that had +called him down, and soon a 'prentice boy was mounting the rigging with +ropeyarns in his hand, to tell the buntlines what he thought of +them--and of the Mate. + +Bo'sun Hicks was finishing off a pair of 'shackles,' sailor handles for +Munro's sea-chest--a simple bit of recreation for a Sunday afternoon. +They were elaborate affairs of four stranded 'turks-heads' and double +rose knots, and showed several distinct varieties of 'coach whipping.' +One that was finished was being passed round an admiring circle of +shipmates, and Hicks, working at the other, was feigning a great +indifference to their criticisms of his work. + +"Di--zy, Di--zy, gimme yer awnswer, do," he sang with feeling, as he +twisted the pliant yarns. + +"Mind ye, 'm not sayin' as them ain't fine shackles"--Granger was ever +the one to strike a jarring note--"As fine a shackles as ever I see; +but there was a Dutchman, wot I was shipmates with in th' +_Ruddy-mantus_, o' London, as _could_ turn 'em out! Wire 'earts, 'e +made 'em, an' stuffin', an' made up o' round sinnet an' dimon' +'itchin'! Prime! W'y! Look a here! If ye was t' see one ov 'is +shackles on th' hend ov a chest--all painted up an' smooth like--ye +couldn't 'elp a liftin' ov it, jest t' try th' grip; an' it 'ud come +nat'ral t' th' 'and, jes' like a good knife. Them wos shackles as 'e +made, an'----" + +"Ho, yus! Shackles, wos they? An' them ain't no shackles wot 'm +a-finishin' of? No bloomin' fear! Them's garters f'r bally dancers, +ain't they? Or nose rings for Sullimans, or ----, or ----. 'Ere!" +Hicks threw aside the unfinished shackle and advanced threateningly on +his critic. + +"'Ere! 'Oo th' 'ell are ye gettin' at, anywye? D'ye siy as I cawn't +make as good a shackles as any bloomin' Dutchman wot ever said _yaw_ +f'r yes? An' yer _Ruddy-mantus_, o' London? I knows yer +_Ruddy-bloomin-mantus_, o' London! Never 'ad a sailorman acrost 'er +fo'cas'le door! Men wot knowed their work wouldn't sail in 'er, +anyhow, an' w'en she tided out at Gravesen', all th' stiffs out o' th' +'ard-up boardin'-'ouses wos windin' 'er bloomin' keeleg up! +_Ruddymantus_? 'Er wot 'ad a bow like the side o' 'n 'ouse--comin' up +th' Mersey Channel a-shovin' th' sea afore 'er, an' makin' 'igh water +at Liverpool two hours afore th' Halmanack! That's yer _Ruddy-mantus_! +An' wot th' 'ell d'you know 'bout sailorizin', anywye? Yer never wos +in a proper ship till ye come 'ere, on a dead 'un's discharge, an' ye +couldn't put dimon' 'itchin' on a broom 'andle, if it wos t' get ye a +pension!" + +Here was a break to our peaceful Sunday afternoon; nothing short of a +round or two could set matters fair after such an insult to a man's +last ship! + +Someone tried to pacify the indignant bo'sun. + +"'Ere, bo'sun! Wot's about it if 'e did know a blanky Dutchman wot +made shackles? Them o' yourn's good enough. I don't see nuthin' th' +matter wi' them!" + +"No--no! A-course ye don't, 'cos ye'r like that b----y Granger there, +ye knows damn all 'bout sailorizin' anywye! Didn't ye 'ear 'im say as +I couldn't make shackles?" + +A chorus of denials, a babel of confused explanation. + +"A-course 'e did," shouted the maker of shackles. "'E sed as I didn't +know 'ow t' work round sennit an' dimon' 'itchin', as I wos never in a +proper ship afore, as 'e knowed a bloomin' Dutchman wot could make +better shackles nor me; sed as 'ow my shackles worn't fit f'r a +grip----" + +"'Ere! 'Ere!! bo'sun--I never sed nuthin' ov th' kind!" The +unfortunate Granger was bowing to the blast. "Wot I sed wos, 'ow them +was good shackles; as fine a shackles as ever I see--an' I wos only +tellin' my mates 'ere 'bout a Dutchman wot was in th' _Ruddymanthus_ +along o' me as could make 'em as smooth to the 'and----" + +"An' wot's the matter wi' them?" Hicks picked up the discarded shackle +and threw it at Granger, striking him smartly on the chest. "Ain't +them smooth enough for yer lubberly 'an's, ye long-eared son of a----" + +"_Fore-tops'l sheet, the watch there!!_" + +The Mate had seen the slack links and the row in progress at the same +moment. The order came in time; strife was averted. + +Three sulky pulls at a tackle on the sheets, a tightening of the +braces, then: "That'll do, the watch there! Coil down and put away the +tackle!" Again the gathering at the fore-hatch. Hicks picked up his +work and resumed the twisting of the yarns. + +A great knocking out and refilling of pipes. + +"'Bout that 'ere Dutchman, Granger? 'Im wot ye wos shipmates with." + +Granger glanced covertly at the bo'sun. There was no sign of further +hostilities; he was working the yarns with a great show of industry, +and was whistling dolefully the while. + +"Well, 'e worn't a proper Dutchman, neither," he began pleasantly; "'im +bein' married on a white woman in Cardiff, wot 'ad a shop in Bute Road. +See? Th' Ole Man o' th' _Ruddymanthus_, 'e wos a terror on +sailorizin'----" Granger paused. + +Again a squint at the bo'sun. There was no sign, save that the +whistling had ceased, and the lips had taken a scornful turn. "'E wos +a terror on sailorizin', an' w'en we left Sydney f'r London, 'e said as +'ow 'e'd give two pun' fer th' best pair o' shackles wot 'is men could +make. There worn't many o' us as wor 'ands at shackles, an' there wor +only th' Dutchman an' a white man in it--a Cockney 'e wos, name o' +Linnet----" + +The bo'sun was staring steadily at the speaker, who added hastily, "'an +a damn good feller 'e wos, too, one o' th' best I ever wos shipmates +with; 'e wos a prime sailorman--there worn't many as could teach 'im +anythin'----" + +Bo'sun had resumed work, and was again whistling. + +"It lay a-tween 'im an' this 'ere Dutchman. All the w'yage they wos at +it. They wos in diff'rent watches, an' th' other fellers wos allus +a-settin' 'em up. It would be, ''Ere, Dutchy, you min' yer eye. +Linnet, 'e's got a new turn o' threads jes' below th' rose knots'; or, +'Look-a-here, Linnet, me son, that Dutchman's puttin' in glossy beads, +an' 'e's waxin' 'is ends wi' stuff wot th' stooard giv' 'im.' The +watches wos takin' sides. 'Linnet's th' man,' says th' Mate's watch. +'Dutchy, he's th' fine 'and at sailorizin',' says th' starbowlines. +Worn't takin' no sides meself"--a side glance at the bo'sun--"me bein' +'andy man along o' th' carpenter, an' workin' all day." + +The bo'sun put away his unfinished work, and, lighting his pipe--a sign +of satisfaction--drew nearer to the group. + +"Off th' Western Islands they finished their jobs," continued Granger +(confidently, now that the bo'sun had lit a pipe and was listening as a +shipmate ought). "They painted 'em, an' 'ung 'em up t' dry. Fine they +looked, dark green, an' th' rose knots all w'ite. Dutchy's shackles +wos werry narrer; worn't made f'r a sailorman's 'and at all, but 'e +knowed wot e' wos a-doin' of, for th' Ole Man wos one o' them dandy +blokes wot sails out o' London; 'an's like a lidye's 'e 'ad, an' w'en +they takes their shackles aft, 'e cottons t' Dutchy's at onest. 'Now, +them's wot I calls shackles, Johnson, me man,' sez 'e. 'Jest fits me +'and like a glove,' 'e sez, 'oldin' ov 'em up, an' lettin' 'em fall +back an' forrard acrost 'is wrist. 'Linnet's is too broad,' 'e sez. +'Good work, hexellint work,' 'e sez, 'but too broad for th' 'ands.' +Linnet, 'e sed as 'ow 'e made shackles for sailormen's 'ands; sed 'e +didn't 'old wi' Captains 'andlin' their own sea-chests, but it worn't +no use--Dutchy got th' two quid, an' th' stooard got cramp ov 'is 'ands +hevery time 'e took out th' Ole Man's chest ov a mornin'. An' th' Mate +giv' Linnet five bob an' an ole pair o' sea-boots f'r 'is pair, an' +cheap they wos, for Linnet, 'e wos a man wot knowed 'is work." + +"A Mate's th' best judge ov a sailorman's work, anywye," said the +bo'sun pleasantly. + +"'Im? 'E wor a good judge, too," said the wily Granger. "'E said as +'ow Linnet's wos out-an-out th' best pair. I knowed they wos, for them +Dutchmen ain't so 'andy at double rose knots as a white man!" + +"No! Sure they ain't!" + + + + +XXIII + +A LANDFALL + +In the dark of the morning a dense fog had closed around us, shutting +in our horizon when we had most need of a clear outlook. We had +expected to sight the Lizard before dawn to pick up a Falmouth pilot at +noon, to be anchored in the Roads by nightfall--we had it all planned +out, even to the man who was to stand the first anchor-watch--and now, +before the friendly gleam of the Lizard Lights had reached us, was +fog--damp, chilling, dispiriting, a pall of white, clammy vapour that +no cunning of seamanship could avail against. + +Denser it grew, that deep, terrifying wall that shut us off, shipmate +from shipmate. Overhead, only the black shadow of the lower sails +loomed up; forward, the ship was shrouded ghostly, unreal. Trailing +wreaths of vapour passed before and about the side-lamps, throwing back +their glare in mockery of the useless rays. All sense of distance was +taken from us: familiar deck fittings assumed huge, grotesque +proportions; the blurred and shadowy outlines of listening men about +the decks seemed magnified and unreal. Sound, too, was distorted by +the inconstant sea-fog; a whisper might carry far, a whole-voiced hail +be but dimly heard. + +Lifting lazily over the long swell, under easy canvas, we sailed, +unseeing and unseen. Now and on, the hand fog-trumpet rasped out a +signal of our sailing, a faint, half-stifled note to pit against the +deep reverberation of a liner's siren that seemed, at every blast, to +be drawing nearer and nearer. + +The Old Man was on the poop, anxiously peering into the void, though +keenest eyes could serve no purpose. Bare-headed, that he might the +better hear, he stepped from rail to rail--listening, sniffing, +striving, with every other sense acute, to work through the fog-banks +that had robbed him of his sight. We were in evil case. A dense fog +in Channel, full in the track of shipping--a weak wind for working +ship. Small wonder that every whisper, every creak of block or parrel, +caused him to jump to the compass--a steering order all but spoken. + +"Where d'ye mark that, now?" he cried, as again the liner's siren +sounded out. + +"Where d'ye mark ... d'ye mark ... mark?" The word was passed forward +from mouth to mouth, in voices faint and muffled. + +"About four points on th' port bow, Sir!" The cry sounded far and +distant, like a hail from a passing ship, though the Mate was but +shouting from the bows. + +"Aye, aye! Stan' by t' hand that foresheet! Keep the foghorn goin'!" + +"... Foresheet ... 'sheet ... th' fog'orn ... goin'!" The invisible +choir on the main-deck repeated the orders. + +Again the deep bellow from the steamer, now perilously close--the +futile rasp of our horn in answer. + +Suddenly an alarmed cry: "O Chris'! She's into us! ... The bell, +you! The bell! ..." A loud clanging of the forward bell, a united +shout from our crew, patter of feet as they run aft, the Mate shouting: +"Down hellum, Sir--down hellum, f'r God's sake!" + +"Hard down helm! Le' go foresheet!" answered to the Mate's cry, the +Old Man himself wrenching desperately at the spokes of the wheel. +Sharp ring of a metal sheave, hiss of a running rope, clank and throb +of engines, thrashing of sails coming hard to the mast, shouts! + +Out of the mist a huge shadowy hull ranges alongside, the wash from her +sheering cutwater hissing and spluttering on our broadside. + +Three quick, furious blasts of a siren, unintelligible shouts from the +steamer's bridge, a churning of propellers; foam; a waft of black +smoke--then silence, the white, clammy veil again about us, and only +the muffled throb of the liner's reversed engines and the uneasy lurch +of our barque, now all aback, to tell of a tragedy averted. + +"Oh! The murderin' ruffians! The b----y sojers!" The crisis over, +the Old Man was beside himself with rage and indignation. "Full speed +through weather like this! Blast ye!" he yelled, hollowing his hands. +"What--ship--is--that?" + +No answer came out of the fog. The throb of engines died away in a +steady rhythm; they would be on their course again, 'slowed down,' +perhaps, to twelve knots, now that the nerves of the officer of the +watch had been shaken. + +Slowly our barque was turned on heel, the yards trimmed to her former +course, and we moved on, piercing the clammy barrier that lay between +us and a landfall. + +"Well, young fellers? Wha' d'ye think o' that now?" Bo'sun was the +first of us to regain composure. "Goin' dead slow, worn't 'e? 'Bout +fifteen, I sh'd siy! That's the wye wi' them mail-boat fellers: +Monday, five 'undred mile; Toosd'y, four-ninety-nine; We'n'sd'y, +four-ninety-height 'n 'arf--'slowed on haccount o' fog'--that's wot +they puts it in 'er bloomin' log, blarst 'em!" + +"Silence, there--main-deck!" The Old Man was pacing across the break +of the poop, pausing to listen for sound of moving craft. + +Bo'sun Hicks, though silenced, had yet a further lesson for us +youngsters, who might one day be handling twenty-knot liners in such a +fog. In the ghostly light of fog and breaking day he performed an +uncanny pantomime, presenting a liner's officer, resplendent in collar +and cuff, strutting, mincing, on a steamer's bridge. (Sailormen walk +fore and aft; steamboat men, athwart.) + +"Haw!" he seemed to say, though never a word passed his lips. "Haw! +Them wind-jammers--ain't got no proper fog'orns. Couldn't 'ear 'em at +th' back o' a moskiter-net! An' if we cawn't 'ear 'em, 'ow do we know +they're there, haw! So we bumps 'em, an' serve 'em dem well right, +haw!" + +It was extraordinary! Here was a man who, a few minutes before, might, +with all of us, have been struggling for his life! + +Dawn broke and lightened the mist about us, but the pall hung thick as +ever over the water. At times we could hear the distant note of a +steamer's whistle; once we marked a sailing vessel, by sound of her +horn, as she worked slowly across our bows, giving the three mournful +wails of a running ship. Now and again we cast the lead, and it was +something to see the Channel bottom--grains of sand, broken +shell-pebbles--brought up on the arming. Fog or no fog, we were, at +least, dunting the 'blue pigeon' on English ground, and we felt, as day +wore on and the fog thinned and turned to mist and rain, that a +landfall was not yet beyond hope. + +A change of weather was coming, a change that neither the Old Man nor +the Mate liked, to judge by their frequent visits to the barometers. +At noon the wind hauled into the sou'-west and freshened, white tops +curled out of the mist and broke in a splutter of foam under the +quarter, Channel gulls came screaming and circling high o'er our +heads--a sure sign of windy weather. A gale was in the making; a +rushing westerly gale, to clear the Channel and blow the fog-rack +inland. + +"I don't like the looks o' this, Mister." The Old Man was growing +anxious; we had seen nothing, had heard nothing to make us confident of +our reckoning. "That aneroid's dropped a tenth since I tapped it last, +an' th' mercurial's like it had no bottom! There's wind behind this, +sure; and if we see naught before 'four bells,' I'm goin' out t' look +for sea-room. Channel fogs, an' sou'-westers, an' fifteen-knot liners +in charge o' b----y lunatics! Gad! there's no room in th' English +Channel now for square sail, an' when ye----" + +"Sail O! On the port bow, Sir!" Keen, homeward-bound eyes had sighted +a smudge on the near horizon. + +"Looks like a fisherman," said the Mate, screwing at his glasses. +"He's standing out." + +"Well, we'll haul up t' him, anyway," answered the Old Man. "Starboard +a point--mebbe he can give us the bearin' o' th' Lizard." + +Bearing up, we were soon within hailing distance. She was a Cardiff +pilot cutter; C.F. and a number, painted black on her mains'l, showed +us that. As we drew on she hoisted the red and white of a pilot on +station. + +"The barque--ahoy! Where--are--'oo--bound?" A cheering hail that +brought all hands to the rails, to stare with interest at the +oilskin-clad figures of the pilot's crew. + +"Falmouth--for orders!" + +"Ah!"--a disappointed note--"'oo are standin' too far t' th' west'ard, +Capt'in. I saw the Falmouth cutter under th' land, indeed, before the +fog came down. Nor'-by-east--that'll fetch 'm!" + +"Thank 'ee! How does the Lizard bear?" + +"'Bout nor'-nor'-west, nine mile, I sh'd say. Stand +in--as--far--as--thirty-five--fathoms--no less!" The pilot's Channel +voice carried far. + +"Thank Heaven! That's definite, anyway," said the Old Man, turning to +wave a hand towards the cutter, now fast merging into the mist astern. +"Nor'-nor'-west, nine mile," he said. "That last sight of ours was a +long way out. A good job I held by th' lead. Keep 'er as she's goin', +Mister; I'll away down an' lay her off on th' chart--nor'-nor'-west, +nine mile," he kept repeating as he went below, fearing a momentary +forgetfulness. + +In streaks and patches the mist was clearing before the westering wind. +To seaward we saw our neighbours of the fog setting on their ways. Few +were standing out to sea, and that, and the sight of a fleet of +fishermen running in to their ports, showed that no ordinary weather +lay behind the fast-driving fog-wreaths. North of us heavy masses of +vapour, banked by the breeze, showed where the land lay, but no +land-mark, no feature of coast or headland, stood clear of the mist to +guide us. Cautiously, bringing up to cast the lead at frequent +intervals, we stood inshore, and darkness, falling early, found us +a-lee of the land with the misty glare of the Lizard lights broad on +our beam. Here we 'hove-to' to await a pilot--"Thirty-five fathoms, no +less," the Welshman had advised--and the frequent glare of our +blue-light signals showed the Old Man's impatience to be on his way +again to Falmouth and shelter. + +Eight we burnt, guttering to their sockets, before we saw an answering +flare, and held away to meet the pilot. A league or so steady running, +and then--to the wind again, the lights of a big cutter rising and +falling in the sea-way, close a-lee. + +"What--ship?" Not Stentor himself could have bettered the speaker's +hail. + +"The _Florence_, of Glasgow: 'Frisco t' Channel. Have ye got my +orders?" + +A moment of suspense. Hull, it might be, or the Continent: the answer +might set us off to sea again. + +"No--not now! (We're right--for Falmouth.) We had 'm a fortnight +agone, but they'm called in since. A long passage, surely, Captain?" + +"Aye! A hundred an' thirty-two days--not countin' three week at th' +Falklan's, under repair. ... Collision with ice in fifty-five, south! +... No proper trades either; an' 'doldrums'! ... A long passage, +Pilot!" + +"Well, well! You'm be goin' on t' Falmouth, I reckon--stan' by t' put +a line in my boat!" A dinghy put off from the cutter; a frail +cockle-shell, lurching and diving in the short Channel sea, and soon +our pilot was astride the rail, greeting us, as one sure of a welcome. + +"You'm jest in time, Capten. It's goin' t' blow, I tell 'ee--(Mainyard +forrard, Mister Mate!)--an' a West-countryman's allowance, for sure!" +He rubbed his sea-scarred hands together, beamed jovially, as though a +'West-countryman's allowance' were pleasant fare.... "Th' glass +started fallin' here about two--(Well--the mainyard!--a bit more o' th' +lower tawps'l-brace, Mister!)--two o'clock yesterday afternoon--(How's +the compass, Capten? Half a point! Keep 'er nor'-east b' nor', when +she comes to it, m' lad!)--an' it's been droppin' steady ever since. +Lot o' craft put in for shelter sin'--(Check in th' foreyards now, will +'ee?)--since th' marnin', an' the Carrick Roads 'll be like West India +Dock on a wet Friday. A good job the fog's lifted. Gad! we had it +thick this marnin'. We boarded a barque off th' Dodman.... Thought he +was south o' th' Lizard, he did, an' was steerin' nor'-east t' make +Falmouth! A good job we sighted 'im, or he'd a bin--(Well--th' +foreyard, Mister!)--hard upon th' Bizzie's Shoal, I reckon." + +The look-out reported a light ahead. + +"'St. Ant'ny's, Capten," said our pilot. "Will 'ee give 'er th' main +to'galns'l, an' we'll be gettin' on?" + + + + +XXIV + +FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS + +High dawn broke on a scene of storm, on the waters of Falmouth Bay, +white-lashed and curling, on great ragged storm-clouds racing +feather-edged over the downs and wooded slopes that environ the fairest +harbour of all England. + +To us, so long habited to the lone outlook of sea and sky, the scene +held much of interest, and, from the first grey break of morning, our +eyes went a-roving over the windy prospect, seeing incident and novelty +at every turn. In the great Bay, many ships lay anchored, head to +wind, at straining cables. Laden ships with trim spars and rigging, +red-rusty of hull, and lifting at every scend to the rough sea, the +foul green underbody of long voyaging; tall clippers, clean and freshly +painted without, but showing, in disorder of gear and rigging, the mark +of the hastily equipped outward bound coasters, steam and sail, +plunging and fretting at short anchor or riding to the swell in +sheltered creeks; lumbermen, with high deck loads bleached and whitened +by wind and salt-spume of a winter passage; drifters and pilot +cruisers, sea trawlers, banksmen--a gathering of many craft that the +great west wind had turned to seek a shelter. + +Riding with the fleet, we lay to double anchor. Overhead the high wind +whistled eerily through spar and cordage--a furious blast that now and +then caught up a crest of the broken harbour sea and flung the icy +spray among us. Frequent squalls came down--rude bursts of wind and +driving sleet that set the face of the harbour white-streaked under the +lash, and shut out the near land in a shroud of wind-blown spindrift. +To seaward, in the clearings, we could see the hurtling outer seas, +turned from the sou'-west, shattering in a high column of broken water +at the base of St. Anthony's firm headland. We were well out of that, +with good Cornish land our bulwark. + +Ahead of us lay Falmouth town, dim and misty under the stormy sky. A +'sailor-town,' indeed, for the grey stone houses, clustered in +irregular masses, extended far along the water front--on the beach, +almost, as though the townsfolk held only to business with tide and +tide-load, and had set their houses at high-water mark for greater +convenience. In spite of the high wind and rough sea, a fleet of shore +boats were setting out toward the anchorage. Needs a master wind, in +truth, to keep the Falmouth quay-punts at their moorings when +homeward-bound ships lie anchored in the Roads, whose lean, ragged +sailormen have money to spend! + +Under close-reefed rags of straining canvas, they came at us, lurching +heavily in the broken seaway, and casting the spray mast-high from +their threshing bows. To most of them our barque was the sailing mark. +Shooting up in the wind's eye with a great rattle of blocks and _slatt_ +of wet canvas, they laid us aboard. There followed a scene of spirited +action. A confusion of wildly swaying masts and jarring +broadsides--shouts and curses, protest and insult; fending, pushing, +sails and rigging entangled in our out-gear. Struggling to a foothold, +where any offered on our rusty topsides, the boatmen clambered aboard, +and the Captain was quickly surrounded by a clamorous crowd, extending +cards and testimonials, and loudly praying for the high honour of +'sarving' the homeward bound. + +"Capten! I sarved 'ee when 'ee wos mate o' th' _Orion_! Do 'ee mind +Pengelly--Jan Pengelly, Capten!"--"Boots, Capten? Damme, if them a'nt +boots o' my makin', 'ee 're a-wearin' nah!"--"... can dew 'ee cheaper +'n any man on th' Strand, Capten!"--"Trevethick's th' man, Capten! +Fort--(_th' 'ell 'ee shovin' at?_)--Forty year in Falmouth, Capten!" + +Old Jock was not to be hurried in his bestowal of custom. From one he +took a proffered cigar; from another a box of matches. Lighting up, he +seated himself on the skylight settee. + +"Aye, aye! Man, but ye're the grand talkers," he said. + +The crowd renewed their clamour, making bids and offers one against the +other. + +"Come down t' th' cabin, one of ye," said the Old Man, leading the way. +A purposeful West-countryman, brushing the crowd aside, followed close +at heel. The others stood around, discussing the prospect of business. + +"Scotch barque, a'n't she?" said one. "Not much to be made o' them +Scotch Captens! Eh, Pengelly, 'ee knows? Wot about th' Capten o' th' +_Newtonend_, wot 'ee sarved last autumn?" + +The man addressed looked angrily away, the others laughed: a sore point! + +"Paid 'ee wi' tawps'l sheets, didn't 'e?" said another. "A fair wind, +an' him bound West! _Tchutt_! 'ee must 'a bin sleepin' sound when th' +wind come away, Pengelly, m' son!" + +Pengelly swore softly. + +"Don't 'ee mind un, Jan, m' boy?" added a third. "Mebbe th' Capten 'll +send 'ee 'Spanish notes' when 'e arrives out--Santa Rosalia, worn't it?" + +A bustle at the companionway put a stop to the chaff, the purposeful +man having come on deck, glum of countenance. + +"You'm struck a right 'hard case,' boys," he said. "Twenty per cent +ain't in it--an' I'm off. So long!" + +One by one the tradesmen had their interview, and returned to deck to +talk together, with a half laugh, of Scotch 'Jews' and hard bargains. +Hard bargains being better than no business, the contracts were taken +up, the crowd dispersed, and we were soon in a position to order our +longshore togs and table luxuries--at prices that suggested that +someone was warming his boots at our fire. + +With Jan Pengelly we bargained for foodstuffs. It was something of a +task to get comfortably aboard his 'bumboat,' heaving and tossing as +she was in the short sea. In the little cabin, securely battened and +tarpaulined against the drenching sprays that swept over the boat, he +kept his stock--a stock of everything that a homeward-bounder could +possibly require; but his silk scarves and velvet slippers, +silver-mounted pipes and sweet tobacco hats, held no attraction for us: +it was food we sought--something to satisfy the hunger of five months' +voyaging on scant rations--and at that we kept Jan busy, handing out +and taking a careful tally of our purchases. + +On deck there was little work for us to do. Little could be done, for, +as the day wore on to a stormy setting, wind and sea increased, forcing +even the hardy boatmen to cast off and run to a sheltered creek at St. +Mawes. The icy, biting spray, scattered at every plunge of our +ground-fast barque, left no corner of the deck unsearched, and, after a +half-hearted attempt to keep us going, the Mate was forced to order +'stand by.' In half-deck and fo'cas'le we gathered round the red-hot +bogies, and talked happily of the voyage's end, of the pay-table, of +resolves to stop there when we had come ashore. + +Then came the night, at anchor-watch. Tramping for a brief hour, two +together, sounding, to mark that she did not drive a-lee; listening to +the crash of seas, the harping of the rigging, to the _thrap, thrap_ of +wind-jarred halliards; struggling to the rigging at times, to put +alight an ill-burning riding lamp; watching the town lights glimmer +awhile, then vanish as quick succeeding squalls of snow enwrapped the +Bay. A brief spell of duty, not ill-passed, that made the warmth of +the half-deck and the red glow of the bogie fire more grateful to +return to. + +As day broke the gale was at its height. Out of a bleak and +threatening west the wind blew ominously true--a whole gale, +accompanied by a heavy fall of snow. There could be no boat +communication with the shore in such a wind, but, as soon as the light +allowed, we engaged the Signal Station with a string of flags, and +learnt that our orders had not yet come to hand, that they would be +communicated by signal, if received during the day. + +After we had re-stowed sails and secured such gear and tackle as had +blown adrift in the night, 'stand by' was again the order, reluctantly +given, and all hands took advantage of the rare circumstance of spare +time and a free pump to set our clothes cleanly and in order. + +Near noon the Mate spied fluttering wisps of colour rising on the +signal yard ashore. Steadying himself in a sheltered corner, he read +the hoist: W.Q.H.L.--our number. + +"Aft here, you boys, an' hand flags," he shouted. Never was order more +willingly obeyed; we wanted to know. + +The news went round that our orders had come. With bared arms, +dripping of soapsuds, the hands came aft, uncalled, and the Mate was +too busy with telescope and signal-book to notice (and rebuke) the +general muster of expectant mariners. + +As our pennant was run up, the hoist ashore was hauled down, to be +replaced by a new. The Mate read out the flags, singly and distinct, +and turned to the pages of the signal-book. + +"'You--are--ordered--to--proceed--to'--Answering pennant up, lively +now; damme, I can't rest you boys a minute, but ye run to seed an' +sodgerin'!" + +A moment of suspense; to proceed to--where? The Old Man was on deck +now, with code-book in hand, open at the 'geographicals.' +"'B--D--S--T,'" sang out the Mate. "B.D.S.T.," repeated the Old Man, +whetting a thumb and turning the pages rapidly. "B.D.S.T., +B.D.S--Sligo! Sligo, where's that, anyway?" + +"North of Ireland, sir," said M'Kellar. "Somewhere east of Broadhaven. +I wass in there once, mysel'." + +"Of course, of course! Sligo, eh? Well, well! I never heard of a +square-rigger discharging there--must see about th' charts. Ask them +to repeat, Mister, and make sure." + +Our query brought the same flags to the yard. B.D.S.T.--Sligo, without +a doubt--followed by a message, "Letters will be sent off as soon as +weather moderates." + +There was a general sense of disappointment when our destination was +known; Ireland had never even been suggested as a possible finish to +our voyage. Another injustice! + +As the afternoon wore on, the wind lessened and hauled into the north. +The bleak storm-clouds softened in outline, and broke apart to show us +promise of better weather in glimpses of clear blue behind. Quickly, +as it had got up, the harbour sea fell away. The white curling crests +no longer uprose, to be caught up and scattered afar in blinding +spindrift. Wind, their fickle master, had proved them false, and now +sought, in blowing from a new airt, to quell the tumult he had bidden +rise. + +With a prospect of letters--of word from home--we kept an eager +look-out for shore-craft putting out, and when our messenger arrived +after a long beat, the boat warp was curled into his hand and the side +ladder rattled to his feet before he had time to hail the deck. With +him came a coasting pilot seeking employ, a voluble Welshman, who did +not leave us a minute in ignorance of the fact that "he knew th' coast, +indeed, ass well ass he knew Car--narvon!" + +Then to our letters. How we read and re-read, and turned them back and +forward, scanning even the post-mark for further news! + + * * * * * + +Early astir, we had the lee anchor at the bows before dawn broke. A +bright, clear frosty morning, a cloudless sky of deepest blue, the land +around wrapped in a mantle of snow--a scene of tranquillity in sea and +sky, in marked contrast to the bitter weather of the day before. At +the anchorage all was haste and stirring action. A gentle breeze from +the north was blowing--a 'soldier's' wind that set fair to east and +west, and the wind-bound ships were hurrying to get their anchors and +be off, to make the most of it. A swift pilot cutter, sailing tack and +tack through the anchorage, was serving pilots on the outward bound, +and as each was boarded in turn, the merry _clank-clank_ of windlass +pawls broke out, and the chorus of an anchor chantey woke the echoes of +the Bay. Quay punts passed to and fro from ship to shore, lurching, +deep-laden with stores, or sailing light to reap the harvest that the +west wind had blown them. Among them came Jan Pengelly (anxious that +payment 'by tops'l sheets' did not again occur with him), and the Welsh +coasting pilot who was to sail with us. + +The weather anchor was strong bedded and loth to come home, and it was +as the last of the fleet that we hoisted our number and ran out between +Pendennis and the Head. The Old Man was in high good humour that he +had no towing bills to settle, and walked the poop, rubbing his hands +and whistling a doleful encouragement to the chill north wind. + +Safely past the dread Manacles, the Falmouth pilot left us. We crowded +sail on her, steering free, and dark found us in open channel, leaning +to a steady breeze, and the Lizard lights dipping in the wake astern. + + + + +XXV + +"T' WIND'ARD!" + +For over a week of strong westerly gales we had kept the open sea, +steering to the north as best the wind allowed. A lull had come--a +break in the furious succession, though still the sea ran high--and the +Old Man, in part satisfied that he had made his northing, put the helm +up and squared away for the land. In this he was largely prompted by +the coasting pilot (sick of a long, unprofitable, passage--on a +'lump-sum' basis), who confidently asked to be shown but one speck of +Irish land, and, "I'll tell 'oo the road t' Dub-lin, Capt'in!" + +Moderately clear at first, but thickening later, as we closed the land, +it was not the weather for running in on a dangerous coast, ill-lighted +and unmarked, but, had we waited for clear weather, we might have +marked time to the westward until the roses came; the wind was fair, we +were over-long on our voyage; sheet and brace and wind in squared sail +thrummed a homeward song for us as we came in from the west. + +At close of a day of keen sailing, the outposts of the Irish coast, +bleak, barren, inhospitable, lay under our lee--a few bold rocks, +around and above wreathed in sea-mist, and the never-dying Atlantic +swell breaking heavily at base. + +"Iss, indeed, Capt'in! The Stags! The Stags of Broad-haven, I tell +'oo," said the pilot, scanning through his glasses with an easy +assurance. "Indeed to goodness, it iss the best landfall I haf ever +seen, Capt'in!" + +Though pleased with his navigation, the Old Man kept his head. "Aye, +aye," he said. "The Stags, eh? Well, we'll haul up t' th' wind +anyway--t' make sure!" He gave the order, and went below to his charts. + +Rolling heavily, broad to the sea and swell, we lay awhile. There was +no sign of the weather clearing, no lift in the grey mist that hung +dense over the rugged coast-line. On deck again, the Old Man stared +long and earnestly at the rocky islets, seeking a further guidemark. +In the waning daylight they were fast losing shape and colour. Only +the breaking sea, white and sightly, marked them bold in the grey +mist-laden breath of the Atlantic. "----'present themselves, +consisting of four high rocky islets of from two thirty-three to three +ought-six feet in height, an' steep-to,'" he said, reading from a book +of sailing directions. "Damme! I can only see three." To the pilot, +"D'ye know the Stags well, Mister? Are ye sure o' ye're ground?" + +"_Wel, wel_! Indeed, Capt'in" (Mr. Williams laughed). "I know the +Stags, yess! Ass well ass I know Car-narvon! The Stags of +Broad-haven, I tell 'oo. When I wass master of the _Ann Pritchard_, of +Beaumaris, it wass always to the West of Ireland we would be goin'. +Summer and winter, three years, I tell 'oo, before I came to +pilotin'--an' there iss not many places between the Hull and Missen +Head that I haf not seen in daylight an' dark. It iss the Stags, +indeed! East, south-east now, Capt'in, an' a fine run to Sligo Bar!" + +Still unassured, the Old Man turned his glasses on the rocky group. +"One--two--three--perhaps that was the fourth just open to the +south'ard"--they certainly tallied with the description in the +book--"high, steep-to." A cast of the lead brought no decision. +Forty-seven! He might be ten miles north and south by that and former +soundings. It was rapidly growing dark, the wind freshening. If he +did not set course by the rocks--Stags they seemed to be--he would lose +all benefit of landfall--would spend another week or more to the +westward, waiting for a rare slant on this coast of mist and foul +weather! Already eighteen days from Falmouth! The chance of running +in was tempting! Hesitating, uncertain, he took a step or two up and +down the poop, halting at turns to stare anxiously at the rocks, in the +wind's eye, at the great Atlantic combers welling up and lifting the +barque to leeward at every rise. On the skylight sat Mr. Williams, +smiling and clucking in his beard that "he did not know the Stags, +indeed!" + +"We haul off, Pilot," said stout Old Jock, coming at a decision. "If +it had been daylight ... perhaps ... but I'm for takin' no risks. They +may be th' Stags, belike they are, but I'm no' goin' oan in weather +like this! We'll stand out t' th' norrard--'mainyards forrard, +Mister'--till daylight onyway!" + +Sulkily we hauled the yards forward and trimmed sail, leaving the rocks +to fade under curtain of advancing night, our high hopes of making port +dismissed. The 'navigators' among us were loud of their growling, as +the ship lurched and wallowed in the trough of the sea, the decks +waist-high with a wash of icy water--a change from the steadiness and +comfort of a running ship. + +Night fell black dark. The moon not risen to set a boundary to sea and +sky; no play of high light on the waste of heaving water; naught but +the long inky ridges, rolling out of the west, that, lifting giddily to +crest, sent us reeling into the windless trough. On the poop the Old +Man and Pilot tramped fore and aft, talking together of landfalls and +coasting affairs. As they came and went, snatches of their talk were +borne to us, the watch on deck--sheltering from the weather at the +break. The Old Man's "Aye, ayes," and "Goad, man's," and the voluble +Welshman's "iss, indeed, Capt'in," and "I tell 'oo's." The Pilot was +laying off a former course of action. "... Mister Williams, he said, I +can see that 'oo knows th' coast, he said, an' ... I 'oodn't go in +myself, he said; but if 'oo are sure----" + +"_Brea--kers a-head!_"--a stunning period to his tale, came in a long +shout, a scream almost, from the look-out! + +Both sprang to the lee rigging, handing their eyes to shield the wind +and spray. Faint as yet against the sombre monotone of sea and sky, a +long line of breaking water leapt to their gaze, then vanished, as the +staggering barque drove to the trough; again--again; there could be no +doubt. Breakers! On a lee shore!! + +"_Mawdredd an'l_! O Christ! The Stags, Capt'in.... My God! My God!" +Wholly unmanned, muttering in Welsh and English, Mr. Williams ran to +the compass to take bearings. + +Old Jock came out of the rigging. Then, in a steady voice, more +ominous than a string of oaths, "Luff! Down helm, m' lad, an' keep her +close!" And to the pilot, "Well? What d'ye mak' of it, Mister?" + +"Stags, Capt'in! _Diwedd i_! That I should be mistake.... The others +... God knows! ... If it iss th' Stags, Capt'in ... the passage t' +th' suth'ard.... I know it ... we can run ... if it iss th' Stags, +Capt'in!" + +"An' if it's no' th' Stags! M' Goad! Hoo many Stags d'ye know, +Mister? No! No! We'll keep th' sea, if she can weather thae rocks +... an' if she canna!!" A mute gesture--then, passionately, "T' hell +wi' you an' yer b----y Stags: I back ma ship against a worthless pilot! +All hands, there, Mister--mains'l an' to'galn's'l oan her! Up, ye +hounds; up, if ye look fur dry berryin'!" + +All hands! No need for a call! "Breakers ahead"--the words that sent +us racing to the yards, to out knife and whip at the gaskets that held +our saving power in leash. Quickly done, the great mainsail blew out, +thrashing furiously till steadied by tack and sheet. Then topgal'n' +sail, the spars buckling to overstrain; staysail, spanker--never was +canvas crowded on a ship at such a pace; a mighty fear at our hearts +that only frenzied action could allay. + +Shuddering, she lay down to it, the lee rail entirely awash, the decks +canted at a fearsome angle; then righted--a swift, vicious lurch, and +her head sweeping wildly to windward till checked by the heaving +helmsman. The wind that we had thought moderate when running before it +now held at half a gale. To that she might have stood weatherly, but +the great western swell--spawn of uncounted gales--was matched against +her, rolling up to check the windward snatches and sending her reeling +to leeward in a smother of foam and broken water. + +A gallant fight! At the weather gangway stood Old Jock, legs apart and +sturdy, talking to his ship. + +"Stand, good spars," he would say, casting longing eyes aloft. Or, +patting the taffrail with his great sailor hands, "Up tae it, ye bitch! +Up!! Up!!!" as, raising her head, streaming in cascade from a +sail-pressed plunge, she turned to meet the next great wall of water +that set against her. "She'll stand it, Mister," to the Mate at his +side. "She'll stand it, an' the head gear holds. If she starts +that!"--he turned his palms out--"If she starts th' head gear, Mister!" + +"They'll hold, Sir! ... good gear," answered the Mate, hugging himself +at thought of the new lanyards, the stout Europe gammon lashings, he +had rove off when the boom was rigged. Now was the time when Sanny +Armstrong's spars would be put to the test. The relic of the ill-fated +_Glenisla_, now a shapely to'gallant mast, was bending like a whip! +"Good iron," he shouted as the backstays twanged a high note of utmost +stress. + +Struggling across the heaving deck, the Pilot joined the group. +Brokenly, shouting down the wind, "She'll never do it, Capt'in, I tell +'oo! ... An' th' tide.... Try th' south passage.... Stags, sure! ... +See them fair now! ... Th' south passage, Capt'in.... It iss some +years, indeed, but ... I know. _Diwedd an'l_! She'll never weather +it, Capt'in!" + +"Aye ... and weather it ... an' the gear holds! Goad, man! Are ye +sailor enough t' know what'll happen if Ah start a brace, wi' this +press o' sail oan her? T' wind'ard ... she goes. Ne'er failed me +yet"--a mute caress of the stout taffrail, a slap of his great hand. +"Into it, ye bitch! T' wind'ard! T' wind'ard!" + +Staggering, taking the shock and onset of the relentless seas, but ever +turning the haughty face of her anew to seek the wind, she struggled +on, nearing the cruel rocks and their curtain of hurtling breakers. +Timely, the moon rose, herself invisible, but shedding a diffused light +in the east, showing the high summits of the rocks, upreared above the +blinding spindrift. A low moaning boom broke on our strained ears, +turning to the hoarse roar of tortured waters as we drew on. + +"How does 't bear noo, M'Kellar? Is she makin' oan't?" shouted the Old +Man. + +The Second Mate, at the binnacle, sighted across the wildly swinging +compass card. "No' sure, Sir. ... Th' caird swingin' ... think +there's hauf a p'int.... Hauf a p'int, onyway!" + +"Half a point!" A great comber upreared and struck a deep resounding +blow--"That for yeer half a point"--as her head swung wildly off--off, +till the stout spanker, the windward driver, straining at the stern +sheets, drove her anew to a seaward course. + +Nearer, but a mile off, the rocks plain in a shaft of breaking +moonlight. + +"How now, M'Kellar?" + +"Nae change, Sir! ... 'bout east, nor'-east ... deefecult ... th' caird +swingin'...." + +The Old Man left his post and struggled to the binnacle. "East, +nor'-east ... east o' that, mebbe," he muttered. Then, to 'Dutchy,' at +the weather helm, "Full, m' lad! Keep 'er full an' nae mair! Goad, +man! Steer as ye never steered ... th' wind's yer mairk.... Goad! +D'na shake her!" + +Grasping the binnacle to steady himself against the wild lurches of the +staggering hull, the Old Man stared steadily aloft, unheeding the roar +and crash of the breakers, now loud over all--eyes only for the +straining canvas and standing spars above him. + +"She's drawin' ahead, Sir," shouted M'Kellar, tense, excited. "East, +b' nor' ... an' fast!" + +The Old Man raised a warning hand to the steersman. "Nae higher! Nae +higher! Goad, man! Dinna let 'r gripe!" + +Dread suspense! Would she clear? A narrow lane of open water lay +clear of the bow--broadening as we sped on. + +"Nae higher! Nae higher! Aff! Aff! Up hellum, up!" His voice a +scream, the Old Man turned to bear a frantic heave on the spokes. + +Obedient to the helm and the Mate's ready hand at the driver sheets, +she flew off, free of the wind and sea--tearing past the towering +rocks, a cable's length to leeward. Shock upon shock, the great +Atlantic sea broke and shattered and fell back from the scarred granite +face of the outmost Stag; a seething maelstrom of tortured waters, +roaring, crashing, shrilling into the deep, jagged fissures--a shriek +of Furies bereft. And, high above the tumult of the waters and the +loud, glad cries of us, the hoarse, choking voice of the man who had +backed his ship. + +"Done it, ye bitch!"--a now trembling hand at his old grey head. "Done +it! Weathered--by Goad!" + + + + +XXVI + +LIKE A MAN! + +Spring in the air of it, a bright, keen day, and the mist only strong +enough to soften the bold, rugged outline of Knocknarea, our sailing +mark, towering high and solitary above Sligo Harbour. The strong west +wind that we had fought and bested at the Stags turned friendly, had +blown us fair to our voyage's end, and now, under easy canvas, we +tacked on shore and off, waiting for tide to bear up and float our +twenty feet in safety across the Bar. + +At Raghly, our signal for a local pilot was loyally responded to. A +ship of tonnage was clearly a rare sight in these parts, for the entire +male population came off to see us safely in--to make a day of it! Old +pilots and young, fishermen and gossoons, they swept out from creek and +headland in their swift Mayo skiffs, and though only one was Trinity +licensed for our draft of water, the rest remained, to bear willing +hands at the braces on the chance of a job at the cargo being given. + +'Ould Andy' was the official pilot--a hardy old farmer-fisherman, +weazened by years and the weather. He had donned his best in honour of +the occasion--a coarse suit of fearnought serges, quaintly cut, and an +ancient top hat, set at a rakish angle. Hasty rising showed in razor +cuts on his hard blue jowl, and his untied shoes made clatter as he +mounted the poop, waving a yellow time-stained license. An odd figure +for a master-pilot; but he made a good impression on Old Jock when he +said, simply, "... but bedad, now, Cyaptin! Sure, Oim no hand at thim +big yards ov yours, but Oi kin show ye where th' daape watther is!" + +The ship steered to his liking, and all in trim, he walked the poop, +showing a great pride of his importance as a navigator of twenty feet. +Suddenly--at no apparent call--he stepped to the side where his boat +was towing. + +"What-t," he yelled. "Ach, hoult yer whisht! What-t are yez shoutin' +about? What-t? Ast the Cyaptin f'r a bit av 'baccy f'r th' byes in +th' boat! Indade, an' Oi will natt ast th' dacent gintilman f'r a bit +av 'baccy f'r th' byes in th' boat! What-t? Ach, hoult yer whisht, +now!" + +Joining the Captain he resumed the thread of his description of Sligo +Port, apparently unheeding the Old Man's side order to the steward that +sent a package of hard tobacco over the rail. + +"... an' ye'll lie at Rosses Point, Cyaptin, till ye loighten up t' +fourteen faate. Thin, thr'll be watther f'r yes at th' Quay, but..." +(Another tangent to the lee rail.) ... "Ach! What-t's th' matther wit' +ye now. Be m' sowl, it's heart-breakin' ye are, wit' yer shoutin' an' +that-t! What-t? Salt baafe an' a few bisskits! No! Oi will natt!! +Ast 'im yersilf f'r a bit av salt baafe an' a few bisskits, bad scran +t' ye, yes ongrateful thaaves!" + +We are homeward bound; the beef and biscuits go down. After them, "a +tarn sail--jest a rag, d'ye moind, t' make a jib f'r th' ould boat"; +then, "a pat av paint an' a brush"--it becomes quite exciting with Ould +Andy abusing his boat's crew at every prompted request. We are +beginning to wager on the nature of the next, when sent to the stations +for anchoring. Ould Andy, with an indignant gesture and shake of his +fists, turns away to attend to his more legitimate business, and, at +his direction, we anchor to seaward of the Bar. + +The wind that has served us so well has died away in faint airs, +leaving a long glassy swell to score the placid surface of the Bay and +set a pearly fringe on the distant shore. The tide moves steadily in +flood, broadening in ruffling eddies at the shoals of the Bar. On a +near beacon a tide gauge shows the water, and when sail is furled and +the yards in harbour trim we have naught to do but reckon our wages, +and watch the rising water lapping, inch by inch, on the figured board. +From seaward there is little to be seen of the countryside. The land +about is low to the coast, but far inland blue, mist-capped ranges +stand bold and rugged against the clear northern sky. Beyond the Bar +the harbour lies bare of shipping--only a few fishing skiffs putting +out under long sweeps, and the channel buoys bobbing and heaving on the +long swell. A deserted port we are come to after our long voyage from +the West! + +"That'll be th' _Maid o' th' Moy_, Cyaptin," said Ould Andy, squinting +through the glasses at smoke-wrack on the far horizon. "Hot-fut from +Ballina, t' tow ye in. An' Rory Kilgallen may save his cowl, bedad, +f'r we'll naade two fut av watther yet before we get acrost. +Bedad"--in high glee--"he'll nat-t be after knowin' that it's twinty +faate, no liss, that Ould Andy is bringin' in this day!" + +With a haste that marks her skipper's anxiety to get a share of the +good things going, the _Maid_, a trim little paddle tug, draws nigh, +and soon a high bargaining begins between Old Jock and the tugman, with +an eager audience to chorus, "D'ye hear that-t, now!" at each fiery +period. Rory has the whip hand--and knows it. No competition, and the +tide making inch by inch on the beacon gauge! + +For a time Old Jock holds out manfully. "Goad, no! I'll kedge th' +hooker up t' Sligo Quay before I give ye that!" But high water at hand +and no sign of wind, he takes the tug on at a stiff figure, and we man +the windlass, tramping the well-worn round together for the last time. + +_Leave her_ is the set chantey for finish of a voyage, and we roar a +lusty chorus to Granger, the chanteyman. + + "O! Leave 'r John-ny, leave 'r like a man, + (_An' leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Oh! Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r when ye can, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") + + +A hard heave, and the tug lying short. A Merseyman would have the +weight off the cable by this. + + "O! Soon we'll 'ear 'th Ol' Man say, + (_Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Ye kin go ashore an' take yer pay, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") + + +"Heave, byes," the gossoons bearing stoutly on the bars with us. +"Heave, now! He's got no frin's!" + + "O! Th' times wos 'ard, an' th' wages low, + (_Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Th' w'yage wos long, an' th' gales did blow, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!"_) + +Check--and rally; check--a mad rush round--the anchor dripping at the +bows, and we move on across the eddies of the Bar in wake of the +panting tug. + +A short tow, for all the bargaining, and at Rosses Point we bring up to +moorings--the voyage at an end. + +"That'll do, you men," said the Mate, when the last warp was turned. +"Pay off at th' Custom House at twelve to-morrow!" + +"That'll do!" Few words and simple; but the meaning! Free at last! +No man's servant! With a hurricane whoop the crew rush to quarters to +sling their bags for the road. + +Then the trafficking with the shore, the boatmen reaping a harvest. "A +bob th' trip, yer 'anner, on a day like this." The doors of the +village inn swinging constantly, and the white-aproned landlord +(mopping a heated brow at royal orders), sending messengers to ransack +the village cupboards for a reserve of glasses. And when at last the +boats are ready for the long pull up to Sligo town, and the impatient +boatmen shouting, "Coom on now, byes! Before th' toide tarns; byes, +now!" The free men embark, and we, the afterguard (who draw no pay), +are left to watch them set off, and wish that our day were quickly come. + +For a time we hear their happy voices, and answer cheer for cheer, then +the dark comes, and the last is a steady _clack_ of rowlocks, and the +men singing "_Leave 'r, John-ny ... like a man!_" + + * * * * * + +Two days later, on deck of the Glasgow boat, I gazed on my old ship for +the last time. At the narrow bend we steamed slow, to steer cautiously +past her. The harbour watch were there to give me a parting cheer, and +Old Jock, from the poop, waved a cheery response to my salute. Past +her, we turned water again, and sped on to sea. + +It was a day of mist and low clouds, and a weakly sun breaking through +in long slanting shafts of light. Over the Point a beam was fleeting, +playing on the house-tops, shimmering in window glasses, lighting on +the water, on the tracery of spar and rigging, and showing golden on +the red-rusty hull of the old barque--my home for so long in fair +weather and foul. + +A turn of the steering shut her from my sight, and I turned to go below. + +"Fine ships! Fine ships--t' look aat!" + +The Mate of the steamer, relieved from duty, had stopped at my side, +sociable. He would be a Skye-man by the talk of him. It was good to +hear the old speech again. + +"Aye! she's a fine ship." + +"Haf you been th' voyage in her? Been long away?" + +"Oh yes! Sixteen months this trip!" + +"Saxteen munss! Ma grasshius! Y'll haf a fine pey oot o' her?" + +"Not a cent! Owing, indeed; but my time'll be out in a week, an I'll +get my indentures." + +"Oh, yiss! Oh, yiss! A bressbounder, eh!" Then he gave a half-laugh, +and muttered the old formula about "the man who would go to sea for +pleasure, going to hell for a pastime!" + +"Whatna voyage did ye haf, now?" he asked, after filling a pipe with +good 'golden bar,' that made me empty the bowl of mine, noisily. + +"Oh, pretty bad. Gales an' gales. Hellish weather off the Horn, an' +short-handed, an' the house full o' lashin' water--not a dry spot, fore +an' aft. 'Gad! we had it sweet down there. Freezin', too, an' th' +sails hard as old Harry. Ah! a fine voyage, wi' rotten grub an' short +commons at that!" + +"Man, man! D'ye tell me that, now! Ma grasshius! Ah wouldna go in +them if ye wass t' gif me twenty pounds a munss!" + +No; I didn't suppose he would, looking at the clean, well-fed cut of +him, and thinking of the lean, hungry devils who had sailed with me. + +"Naw! Ah wouldna go in them if ye wass t' gif me thirrty pounss a +munss! Coaffins, Ah caall them! Aye, coaffins, that iss what they +are!" + +Coffin! I thought of a ship staggering hard-pressed to windward of a +ledge of cruel rocks, the breakers shrieking for a prey, and the old +grey-haired Master of her slapping the rail and shouting, "Up t'it, m' +beauty! T' windward, ye bitch!" + +"Aye, coaffins," he repeated. "That iss what they are!" + +I had no answer--he was a steamboat man, and would not have understood. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +"1910" + +Into a little-used dock space remote from harbour traffic she is put +aside--out of date and duty, surging at her rusted moorings when the +dock gates are swung apart and laden steamships pass out on the road +she may no longer travel. The days pass--the weeks--the months; the +tide ebbs, and comes again; fair winds carry but trailing smoke-wrack +to the rim of a far horizon; head winds blow the sea mist in on +her--but she lies unheeding. Idle, unkempt, neglected; and the haughty +figurehead of her is turned from the open sea. + +Black with the grime of belching factories, the great yards, that could +yet spread broad sails to the breeze, swing idly on untended braces, +trusses creaking a note of protest, sheet and lift chains clanking +dismally against the mast. Stout purchase blocks that once _chirrped_ +in chorus to a seaman's chantey stand stiffened with disuse; idle rags +of fluttering sailcloth mar the tracery of spar and cordage; in every +listless rope, every disordered ratline, she flies a signal of +distress--a pennant of neglect. + +Her decks, encumbered with harbour gear and tackle, are given over to +the rude hands of the longshoreman; a lumber yard for harbour refuse, a +dumping ground for the ashes of the bustling dock tugs. On the hatch +covers of her empty holds planks and stages are thrown aside, left as +when the last of the cargo was dragged from her; hoist ropes, frayed +and chafed to feather edges, swing from the yardarms; broken cargo +slings lie rotting in a mess of grain refuse. The work is done. There +is not a labourer's pay in her; the stevedores are gone ashore. + +Though yet staunch and seaworthy, she stands condemned by modern +conditions: conditions that call for a haste she could never show, for +a burthen that she could never carry. But a short time, and her owners +(grown weary of waiting a chance charter at even the shadow of a +freight) may turn their thumbs down, and the old barque pass to her +doom. In happy case, she may yet remain afloat--a sheer hulk, drowsing +the tides away in some remote harbour, coal-hulking for her +steam-pressed successor. + +And of her crew, the men who manned and steered her? Scattered afar on +seven seas, learning a new way of seafaring; turning the grip that had +held to a life aloft to the heft of a coalman's shovel, the deft +fingers that had fashioned a wondrous plan of stay and shroud to the +touch of winch valve and lever. Only an old man remains, a warden, in +keeping with the lowly state of his once trim barque. Too old +(conservative, may be) to start sea life anew, he has come to +shipkeeping--a not unpleasant way of life for an aged mariner, so that +he can sit on the hatch on fine nights, with a neighbourly dock +policeman or Customs watcher and talk of the sea as only he knows it. +And when his gossip has risen to go the rounds, what links to the chain +of memory may he not forge, casting his old eyes aloft to the gaunt +spars and their burden of useless sail? Who knows what kindly ghosts +of bygone shipmates walk with him in the night watches, when the dock +lies silent and the flickering harbour lights are shimmering, reflected +in a broad expanse? + + + + +THE END + + + + +The New Readers' Library + +POCKET EDITIONS OF MODERN ENGLISH CLASSICS + +Printed on thin paper, and bound in flexible cloth. Size 7 x 4 1/2 in. +3s. 6d. net each. + +A new series of pocket editions of important copyright works by eminent +modern authors many of which have never before been available at a +popular price. + +"_An edition so nice and nimble that it might penetrate +anywhere._"--MR. WILLIAM GERHARDI. + +"_Books which every lover of English literature ought to own._"--PUBLIC +OPINION. + +_THE SIX MOST RECENT VOLUMES_ + + + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 39. English Poems. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 42. Faith. + 44. Scottish Stories. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 40. The Gathering of Brother Hilarius. + + MRS. WALDO RICHARDS + + 41. High Tide: an anthology. + + SACHEVERELL SITWELL + + 43. The Hundred and One Harlequins. + + MAURICE BARING + + 6. Lost Diaries. + + H. BELLOC + + 15. Caliban's guide to Letters, and Lambkin's Remains. + + JOHN BERESFORD + + 20. Gossip of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: six + studies in the human side of history. + + AUGUSTINE BIRRELL + + 16. Obiter Dicta. + + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 7. The Bonadventure: a random journal of an Atlantic holiday. + 31. The Shepherd and other poems of Peace and War. + + DAVID W. BONE + + 13. The Brassbounder: a tale of the sea. + + IVOR BROWN + + 35. The Meaning of Democracy. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 8. Success, and other sketches. + 34. Thirteen Stories. + + JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + + 11. God's Country. + + J. H. FABRE + + 26. Social Life in the Insect World. + 27. The Wonders of Instinct: chapters in the psychology of Insects. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 4. The Roadmender + + JOHN GALSWORTHY + + 24. Six Short Plays. + + WILLIAM GERHARDI + + 2. The Polyglots: a novel. + 21. Futility: a novel. + 32. Anton Chekov: a critical study. + + MAXIM GORKY + + 38. Twenty-six men and a girl, and other stories, with an + Introduction by Edward Garnett. + + W. H. HUDSON + + 1. Green Mansions: a Romance of the Tropical Forest. + 9. Birds and Man. + 14. The Purple Land. + 18. A Crystal Age. + 23. 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Bone +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brassbounder, by David W. Bone + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Brassbounder + A Tale of the Sea + +Author: David W. Bone + +Release Date: March 4, 2010 [EBook #31497] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRASSBOUNDER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE BRASSBOUNDER +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +<I>A Tale of the Sea</I> +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +DAVID W. BONE +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF "BROKEN STOWAGE" +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DUCKWORTH +<BR> +3 HENRIETTA STREET +<BR> +LONDON, W.C.2. +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +All Rights Reserved +<BR> +First published 1910. Reprinted (twice) 1910. +<BR> +Reprinted 1911. Popular Edition printed 1913. +<BR> +Reprinted 1916 and 1924. +<BR> +Reprinted (New Readers Library) 1927. +<BR><BR><BR> +Made and Printed in Great Britain by +<BR> +The Camelot Press Limited +<BR> +London and Southampton +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO +<BR> +JAMES HAMILTON MUIR +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE NEW READERS LIBRARY +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + 1. GREEN MANSIONS by W. H. HUDSON<BR> + 2. THE POLYGLOTS by WILLIAM GERHARDI<BR> + 3. THE SEA AND THE JUNGLE by H. M. TOMLINSON<BR> + 4. THE ROADMENDER by MICHAEL FAIRLESS<BR> + 5. THE TERROR by ARTHUR MACHEN<BR> + 6. LOST DIARIES by MAURICE BARING<BR> + 7. THE BONADVENTURE by EDMUND BLUNDEN<BR> + 8. SUCCESS by CUNNINGHAM GRAHAM<BR> + 9. BIRDS AND MAN by W. H. HUDSON<BR> +10. THE BLACK MONK by ANTON TCHEKOFF<BR> +11. GOD'S COUNTRY by JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD<BR> +12. BUCOLIC COMEDIES by EDITH SITWELL<BR> +13. THE BRASSBOUNDER by DAVID W. BONE<BR> +14. THE PURPLE LAND by W. H. HUDSON<BR> +15. CALABAN'S GUIDE TO LETTERS AND LAMKIN'S REMAINS by HILAIRE BELLOC<BR> +16. OBITER DICTA by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL<BR> +17. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR by RICHARD JEFFERIES<BR> +18. A CRYSTAL AGE by W. H. HUDSON<BR> +19. THE KISS by ANTON TCHEKOFF<BR> +20. GOSSIP OF THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTURIES by JOHN BERESFORD<BR> +21. FUTILITY by WILLIAM GERHARDI<BR> +22. TRIPLE FUGUE by OSBERT SITWELL<BR> +23. EL OMBÚ by W. H. HUDSON<BR> +24. SIX SHORT PLAYS by JOHN GALSWORTHY<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE 'BLUE PETER'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">STEERSMANSHIP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">THE 'DEAD HORSE'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">'SEA PRICE'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">ROUNDING THE HORN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A HOT CARGO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">WORK!</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">IN 'FRISCO TOWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE 'CONVALESCENT'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">ON THE SACRAMENTO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">HOMEWARD!</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">A TRICK AT THE WHEEL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">''OLY JOES'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">EAST, HALF SOUTH!</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">ADRIFT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">"——AFTER FORTY YEAR!"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">'IN LITTLE SCOTLAND'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">UNDER THE FLAG</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">'DOLDRUMS'</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">ON SUNDAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">A LANDFALL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">"T' WIND'ARD!"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">LIKE A MAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">EPILOGUE: "1910"</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE BRASSBOUNDER +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE 'BLUE PETER' +</H4> + +<P> +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong. The university bells toll out in +strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. On +the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, +strike tellingly on the ear—hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp +of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then +silence, broken in a little by the deep mournful note of a steamer's +siren, wind-borne through the Kelvin Valley, or the shrilling of an +engine whistle that marks a driver impatient at the junction points. +Sleepless, I think of my coming voyage, of the long months—years, +perhaps—that will come and go ere next I lie awake hearkening to the +night voices of my native city. My days of holiday—an all too brief +spell of comfort and shore living—are over; another peal or more of +the familiar bells and my emissary of the fates—a Gorbals cabman, +belike—will be at the door, ready to set me rattling over the granite +setts on the direct road that leads by Bath Street, Finnieston, and +Cape Horn—to San Francisco. A long voyage and a hard. And where +next? No one seems to know! Anywhere where wind blows and square-sail +can carry a freight. At the office on Saturday, the shipping clerk +turned his palms out at my questioning. +</P> + +<P> +"Home again, perhaps. The colonies! Up the Sound or across to Japan," +he said, looking in his <I>Murray's Diary</I> and then at the clock, to see +if there was time for him to nip home for his clubs and catch the 1.15 +for Kilmacolm. +</P> + +<P> +Nearly seventeen months of my apprenticeship remain to be served. +Seventeen months of a hard sea life, between the masts of a starvation +Scotch barque, in the roughest of seafaring, on the long voyage, the +stormy track leading westward round the Horn. +</P> + +<P> +It will be February or March when we get down there. Not the worst +months, thank Heaven! but bad enough at the best. And we'll be badly +off this voyage, for the owners have taken two able seamen off our +complement. "Hard times!" they will be saying. Aye! hard times—for +us, who will now have to share two men's weight in working our heavily +sparred barque. +</P> + +<P> +Two new apprentices have joined. Poor little devils! they don't know +what it is. It seemed all very fine to that wee chap from Inverary who +came with his father to see the ship before he joined. How the eyes of +him glinted as he looked about, proud of his brass-bound clothes and +badge cap. And the Mate, all smiles, showing them over the ship and +telling the old Hielan' clergyman what a fine vessel she was, and what +an interest he took in boys, and what fine times they had on board +ship, and all that! Ah yes—fine times! It's as well the old chap +doesn't know what he is sending his son to! How can he? We know—but +we don't tell.... Pride! Rotten pride! We come home from our first +voyage sick of it all.... Would give up but for pride.... Afraid to +be called 'stuck sailors' ... of the sneers of our old schoolmates.... +So we come home in a great show of bravery and swagger about in our +brass-bound uniform and lie finely about the fine times we had ... out +there! ... And then nothing will do but Jimmy, next door, must be off +to the sea too—to come back and play the same game on young Alick! +That's the way of it! ... +</P> + +<P> +Then when the Mate and them came to the half-deck, it was: "Oh yes, +Sir! This is the boys' quarters. Well! Not always like that, +Sir—when we get away to sea, you know, and get things shipshape. Oh, +well no! There's not much room aboard ship, you see. This is one of +our boys—Mister Jones." (Jones, looking like a miller's man—he had +been stowing ship's biscuits in the tanks—grinned foolishly at the +Mate's introduction: 'Mister!') "We're very busy just now, getting +ready for sea. Everything's in a mess, as you see, Sir. Only joined, +myself, last week. But, oh yes! It will be all right when we get to +sea—when we get things shipshape and settled down, Sir!" +</P> + +<P> +Oh yes! Everything will be all right then, eh? Especially when we get +down off the Horn, and the dingy half-deck will be awash most of the +time with icy water. The owners would do nothing to it this trip, in +spite of our complaints. They sent a young man down from the office +last week who poked at the covering boards with his umbrella and wanted +to know what we were growling at. Wish we had him out there—off Diego +Ramirez. Give him something to growl at with the ship working, and +green seas on deck, and the water lashing about the floor of the house, +washing out the lower bunks, bed and bedding, and soaking every stitch +of the clothing that we had fondly hoped would keep us moderately dry +in the next bitter night watch. And when (as we try with trembling, +benumbed fingers to buckle on the sodden clothes) the ill-hinged door +swings to, and a rush of water and a blast of icy wind chills us to the +marrow, it needs but a hoarse, raucous shout from without to crown the +summit of misery. "Out there, the watch! Turn out!" in tone that +admits of no protest. "Turn out, damn ye, an' stand-by t' wear ship!" +</P> + +<P> +(A blast of wind and rain rattles on my window-pane. <I>Ugh</I>! I turn +the more cosily amid my blankets.) +</P> + +<P> +Oh yes! He would have something to growl at, that young man who asked +if the 'Skipp-ah' was aboard, and said he "was deshed if he could see +what we hed to complain of." +</P> + +<P> +He would learn, painfully, that a ship, snugly moored in the south-east +corner of the Queen's Dock (stern-on to a telephone call-box), and the +same craft, labouring in the teeth of a Cape Horn gale, present some +points of difference; that it is a far cry from 58° South to the Clyde +Repair Works, and that the business of shipping is not entirely a +matter of ledgers. +</P> + +<P> +Oh well! Just have to stick it, though. After all, it won't always be +hard times. Think of the long, sunny days drowsing along down the +'Trades,' of the fine times out there in 'Frisco, of joys of strenuous +action greater than the shipping clerk will ever know, even if he +should manage to hole out in three. Seventeen months! It will soon +pass, and I'll be a free man when I get back to Glasgow again. +Seventeen months, and then—then—— +</P> + +<P> +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong.... Ding dong.... +</P> + +<P> +Quarter to! With a sigh for the comfort of a life ashore, I rise and +dress. Through the window I see the Square, shrouded in mist, the +nearer leafless shrubs swaying in the chill wind, pavement glistening +in the flickering light of street lamps. A dismal morning to be +setting off to the sea! Portent of head winds and foul weather that we +may meet in Channel before the last of Glasgow's grime and smoke-wrack +is blown from the rigging. +</P> + +<P> +A stir in the next room marks another rising. Kindly old '<I>Ding ... +dong</I>' has called a favourite brother from his rest to give me convoy +to the harbour. +</P> + +<P> +Ready for the road, he comes to my room. Sleepy-eyed, yawning. "Four +o'clock! <I>Ugh</I>! Who ever heard of a man going to sea at four in the +morning! Ought to be a bright summer's day, and the sun shining and +flags flying an'——" A choked laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad I'm not a sailorman to be going out on a morning like this! Sure +you've remembered everything? Your cab should be here now. Just gone +four. Heard the bells as I was dressing——" +</P> + +<P> +Rattle of wheels on the granite setts—sharp, metallic ring of shod +heels—a moment of looking for a number—a ring of the door-bell. +</P> + +<P> +"Perty that's tae gang doon tae th' Queen's Dock wi' luggage.... A' +richt, Mister! Ah can cairry them ma'sel'.... Aye! Weel! Noo that +ye menshun it, Sur ... oon a mornin' like this.... Ma respeks, gents!" +</P> + +<P> +There are no good-byes: the last has been said the night before. There +could be no enthusiasm at four on a raw November's morning; it is best +that I slip out quietly and take my seat, with a last look at the quiet +street, the darkened windows, the quaint, familiar belfry of St. Jude's. +</P> + +<P> +"A' richt, Sur. G'up, mere! Haud up, mere, ye!" +</P> + +<P> +At a corner of the Square the night policeman, yawning whole-heartedly, +peers into the cab to see who goes. There is nothing to investigate; +the sea-chest, sailor-bag, and bedding, piled awkwardly on the +'dickey,' tell all he wants to know. +</P> + +<P> +"A sailor for aff!" +</P> + +<P> +Jingling his keys, he thinks maybe of the many 'braw laads' from +Lochinver who go the same hard road. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Down the deserted wind-swept streets we drive steadily on, till house +lights glinting behind the blinds and hurrying figures of a +'night-shift' show that we are near the river and the docks. A turn +along the waterside, the dim outlines of the ships and tracery of mast +and spar looming large and fantastic in the darkness, and the driver, +questioning, brings up at a dim-lit shed, bare of goods and cargo—the +berth of a full-laden outward-bounder. My barque—the <I>Florence</I>, of +Glasgow—lies in a corner of the dock, ready for sea. Tugs are +churning the muddy water alongside, getting into position to drag her +from the quay wall; the lurid side-light gleams on a small knot of +well-wishers gathered at the forward gangway exchanging parting words +with the local seamen of our crew. I have cut my time but short. +</P> + +<P> +"Come en there, you!" is my greeting from the harassed Chief Mate. +"Are you turned a —— passenger, with your gloves and overcoat? You +sh'd have been here an hour ago! Get a move on ye, now, and bear a +hand with these warps.... Gad! A drunken crew an' skulkin' +'prentices, an' th' Old Man growlin' like a bear with a sore——" +</P> + +<P> +Grumbling loudly, he goes forward, leaving me the minute for +'good-bye,' the late 'remembers,' the last long hand-grip. +</P> + +<P> +Into the half-deck, to change hurriedly into working clothes. Time +enough to note the guttering lamp, evil smell, the dismal aspect of my +home afloat—then, on deck again, to haul, viciously despondent, at the +cast-off mooring ropes. +</P> + +<P> +Forward the crew—drunk to a man—are giving the Chief Mate trouble, +and it is only when the gangway is hauled ashore that anything can be +done. The cook, lying as he fell over his sailor bag, sings, "<I>'t wis +ye'r vice, ma gen-tul Merry!</I>" in as many keys as there are points in +the compass, drunkenly indifferent to the farewells of a sad-faced +woman, standing on the quayside with a baby in her arms. Riot and +disorder is the way of things; the Mates, out of temper with the +muddlers at the ropes, are swearing, pushing, coaxing—to some attempt +at getting the ship unmoored. Double work for the sober ones, and for +thanks—a muttered curse. Small wonder that men go drunk to the sea: +the wonder is that any go sober! +</P> + +<P> +At starting there is a delay. Some of the men have slipped ashore for +a last pull at a neighbourly 'hauf-mutchkin,' and at a muster four are +missing. For a time we hold on at single moorings, the stern tug +blowing a 'hurry-up' blast on her siren, the Captain and a River Pilot +stamping on the poop, angrily impatient. One rejoins, drunken and +defiant, but of the others there is no sign. We can wait no longer. +</P> + +<P> +"Let go, aft!" shouts the Captain. "Let go, an' haul in. Damn them +for worthless sodjers, anyway! Mister"—to a waiting Board of Trade +official—"send them t' Greenock, if ye can run them in. If not, +telephone down that we're three A.B.'s short.... Lie up t' th' +norr'ard, stern tug, there. Hard a-port, Mister? All right! Let go +all, forr'ard!" ... We swing into the dock passage, from whence the +figures of our friends on the misty quayside are faintly visible. The +little crowd raises a weakly cheer, and one bold spirit (with his +guid-brither's 'hauf-pey note' in his pocket) shouts a bar or two of +"Wull ye no' come back again!" A few muttered farewells, and the shore +folk hurry down between the wagons to exchange a last parting word at +the Kelvinhaugh. '<I>... Dong ... ding ... DONG ... DONG....</I>' Set to a +fanfare of steam whistles, Old Brazen Tongue of Gilmorehill tolls us +benison as we steer between the pierheads. Six sonorous strokes, loud +above the shrilling of workshop signals and the nearer merry jangle of +the engine-house chimes. +</P> + +<P> +Workmen, hurrying to their jobs, curse us for robbing them of a +'quarter,' the swing-bridge being open to let us through. "Come oon! +Hurry up wi' that auld 'jeely-dish,' an' see's a chance tae get tae wur +wark," they shout in a chorus of just irritation. A facetious member +of our crew shouts: +</P> + +<P> +"Wot—oh, old stiy-at-'omes. Cahmin' aat t' get wandered?"—and a +dockman answers: +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Jake, 'i ye therr? Man, th' sailormen maun a' be deid when th' +Mate gied you a sicht! Jist you wait tae he catches ye fanklin' th' +cro'-jeck sheets!" +</P> + +<P> +We swing slowly between the pierheads, and the workmen, humoured by the +dockman's jest, give us a hoarse cheer as they scurry across the still +moving bridge. In time-honoured fashion our Cockney humorist calls +for, 'Three cheers f'r ol' Pier-'ead, boys,' and such of the 'boys' as +are able chant a feeble echo to his shout. The tugs straighten us up +in the river, and we breast the flood cautiously, for the mist has not +yet cleared and the coasting skippers are taking risks to get to their +berths before the stevedores have picked their men. In the shipyards +workmen are beginning their day's toil, the lowe of their flares light +up the gaunt structures of ships to be. Sharp at the last wailing note +of the whistle, the din of strenuous work begins, and we are fittingly +drummed down the reaches to a merry tune of clanging hammers—the +shipyard chorus "Let Glasgow flourish!" +</P> + +<P> +Dawn finds us off Bowling, and as the fog clears gives us misty views +of the Kilpatrick Hills. Ahead, Dumbarton Rock looms up, gaunt and +misty, sentinel o'er the lesser heights. South, the Renfrew shore +stretches broadly out under the brightening sky—the wooded Elderslie +slopes and distant hills, and, nearer, the shoal ground behind the lang +Dyke where screaming gulls circle and wheel. The setting out is none +so ill now, with God's good daylight broad over all, and the flags +flying—the 'Blue Peter' fluttering its message at the fore. +</P> + +<P> +On the poop, the Captain (the 'Old Man,' be he twenty-one or fifty) +paces to and fro—a short sailor walk, with a pause now and then to +mark the steering or pass a word with the River Pilot. Of medium +height, though broad to the point of ungainliness, Old Jock Leish (in +his ill-fitting broadcloth shore-clothes) might have passed for a +prosperous farmer, but it needed only a glance at the keen grey eyes +peering from beneath bushy eyebrows, the determined set of a square +lower jaw, to note a man of action, accustomed to command. A quick, +alert turn of the head, the lift of shoulders as he walked—arms +swinging in seaman-like balance—and the trick of pausing at a windward +turn to glance at the weather sky, marked the sailing shipmaster—the +man to whom thought and action must be as one. +</P> + +<P> +Pausing at the binnacle to note the direction of the wind, he gives an +exclamation of disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"A 'dead muzzler,' Pilot. No sign o' a slant in the trend o' th' upper +clouds. Sou'west, outside, I'm afraid.... Mebbe it's just as weel; +we'll have t' bring up at th' Tail o' th' Bank, anyway, for these three +hands, damn them.... An' th' rest are useless.... Drunk t' a man, th' +Mate says. God! They'd better sober up soon, or we'll have to try +'Yankee music' t' get things shipshape!" +</P> + +<P> +The Pilot laughed. "I thought the 'Yankee touch' was done with at sea +now," he said. "Merchant Shippin' Act, and that sort of thing, +Captain?" +</P> + +<P> +"Goad, no! It's no bye wi' yet, an' never will be as long as work has +to be done at sea. I never was much taken with it myself, but, damn +it, ye've got to sail the ship, and ye can't do it without hands. Oh, +a little of it at the setting off does no harm—they forget all about +it before long; but at the end of a voyage, when ye're getting near +port, it's not very wise. No, not very wise—an' besides, you don't +need it!" +</P> + +<P> +The Pilot grins again, thinking maybe of his own experiences, before he +'swallowed part of the anchor,' and Old Jock returns to his walk. +</P> + +<P> +Overhead the masts and spars are black with the grime of a 'voyage' in +Glasgow Harbour, and 'Irish pennants' fluttering wildly on spar and +rigging tell of the scamped work of those whose names are not on our +'Articles.' Sternly superintended (now that the Mate has given up all +hope of getting work out of the men), we elder boys are held aloft, +reeving running gear through the leads in the maintop. On the deck +below the new apprentices gaze in open-mouthed admiration at our deeds: +they wonder why the Mate should think such clever fellows laggard, why +he should curse us for clumsy 'sodgers,' as a long length of rope goes +(wrongly led) through the top. In a few months more they themselves +will be criticising the 'hoodlums,' and discussing the wisdom of the +'Old Man' in standing so far to the south'ard. +</P> + +<P> +Fog comes dense on us at Port Glasgow, and incoming steamers, looming +large on the narrowed horizon, steer sharply to the south to give us +water. Enveloped in the driving wraiths we hear the deep notes of +moving vessels, the clatter of bells on ships at anchor, and farther +down, loud over all, the siren at the Cloch, bellowing a warning of +thick weather beyond the Point. Sheering cautiously out of the +fairway, we come to anchor at Tail of the Bank to wait for our +'pier-head jumps.' At four in the afternoon, a launch comes off with +our recruits and our whipper-in explains his apparent delay. +</P> + +<P> +"Hilt nor hair o' th' men that left ye hae I seen. I thocht I'd fin' +them at 'Dirty Dick's' when th' pubs opened ... but no, no' a sign: an' +a wheen tailor buddies wha cashed their advance notes huntin' high an' +low! I seen yin o' them ower by M'Lean Street wi' a nicht polis wi 'm +t' see he didna get a heid pit on 'm!—'<I>sss</I>! A pant! So I cam' doon +here, an' I hiv been lookin' for sailormen sin' ten o'clock. Man, +they'll no' gang in thae wind-jammers, wi' sae mony new steamers +speirin' hauns, an' new boats giein' twa ten fur th' run tae London.... +Thir's th' only yins I can get, an' ye wadna get them, but that twa's +feart o' th' polis an' Jorgensen wants t' see th' month's advance o' +th' lang yin!" +</P> + +<P> +The Captain eyes the men and demands of one: +</P> + +<P> +"Been to sea before?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Nach robh mhi</I>? Twa years I wass a 'bow rope' in the <I>I-on-a</I>, an' I +wass a wheelhouse in the Allan Line." +</P> + +<P> +A glance at his discharges confirms his claim, slight as it is, to +seamanship, and Duncan M'Innes, of Sleat, in Skye, after being +cautioned as to his obligations, signs his name and goes forward. +</P> + +<P> +Patrick Laughlin has considerable difficulty in explaining his absence +from the sea for two years, but the Captain, after listening to a long, +rambling statement... "i' th' yairds ... riggin' planks fur th' +rivitter boys.... Guid-brither a gaffer in Hamilton's, at the 'Poort' +... shoart time" ... gives a quick glance at the alleged seaman's +cropped head and winks solemnly at the Shipping-master, who is signing +the men on. Hands being so scarce, however, Patrick is allowed to +touch the pen. +</P> + +<P> +One glance at the third suffices. Blue eyes and light colourless hair, +high cheek-bones and lithe limbs, mark the Scandinavian. Strong, wiry +fingers and an indescribable something proclaim the sailor, and though +Von Shmit can hardly say 'yes' in English, he looks the most likely man +of the three. +</P> + +<P> +The Shipping-master, having concluded his business, steps aboard his +launch, leaving us with a full crew, to wait the weather clearing, and +the fair wind that would lift us down Channel. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Daybreak next morning shows promise of better weather, and a light +S.S.E. wind with a comparatively clear sky decides the Old Man to take +the North Channel for it. As soon as there is light enough to mark +their colours, a string of flags brings off our tug-boat from Princes +Pier, and we start to heave up the anchor. A stout coloured man sets +up a 'chantey' in a very creditable baritone, and the crew, sobered now +by the snell morning air, give sheet to the chorus. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'<I>Blow, boy-s, blow,—for Califor-ny, oh!</I><BR> +<I>For there's lot's of gold, so I've been told,</I><BR> +<I>On the banks—of Sa-cramen-to!</I>'<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The towing-hawser is passed aboard, and the tug takes the weight off +the cable. The nigger having reeled off all he knows of 'Californy,' a +Dutchman sings lustily of 'Sally Brown.' Soon the Mate reports, +"Anchor's short, Sir," and gets the order to weigh. A few more +powerful heaves with the seaman-like poise between each—"<I>Spent my +mo-ney on Sa-lley Brown!</I>"—and the shout comes, "Anchor's a-weigh!" +</P> + +<P> +Down comes the Blue Peter from the fore, whipping at shroud and +backstay in quick descent—our barque rides ground-free, the voyage +begun! +</P> + +<P> +The light is broad over all now, and the Highland hills loom dark and +misty to the norr'ard. With a catch at the heart, we pass the +well-known places, slowly making way, as if the flood-tide were +striving still to hold us in our native waters. A Customs boat hails, +and asks of us, "Whither bound?" "'Frisco away!" we shout, and they +wave us a brief God-speed. Rounding the Cloch, we meet the coasting +steamers scurrying up the Firth. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow'd ye like t' be a stiy-at-'ome, splashin' abaht in ten fathoms, +like them blokes, eh?" the Cockney asks me, with a deep-water man's +contempt in his tone. +</P> + +<P> +How indeed? Yearning eyes follow their glistening stern-wash as they +speed past, hot-foot for the river berths. +</P> + +<P> +Tide has made now. A short period of slack water, and the ebb bears us +seaward, past the Cowal shore, glinting in the wintry sunlight, the +blue smoke in Dunoon valley curling upward to Kilbride Hill, past +Skelmorlie Buoy (tolling a doleful benediction), past Rothesay Bay, +with the misty Kyles beyond. The Garroch Head, with a cluster of Clyde +Trust Hoppers, glides abaft the beam, and the blue Cock o' Arran shows +up across the opening water. All is haste and bustle. Aloft, +spider-like figures, black against the tracery of the rigging, cast +down sheets and clew lines in the one place where they must go. Shouts +and hails—"Fore cross-trees, there! Royal buntline inside th' +crin'line, <I>in</I>-side, damn ye!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! Stan' fr' under!" +</P> + +<P> +...<I>rrup</I>! A coil of rope hurtling from a height comes rattling to the +rail, to be secured to its own particular belaying-pin. Out of a +seeming chaos comes order. Every rope has its name and its place and +its purpose; and though we have 'sodjers' among us, before Arran is +astern we are ready to take to the wind. Off Pladda we set staysails +and steer to the westward, and, when the wind allows, hoist topsails +and crowd the canvas on her. The short November day has run its course +when we cast off the tow-rope. As we pass the standing tug, all her +hands are hauling the hawser aboard. Soon she comes tearing in our +wake to take our last letters ashore and to receive the Captain's +'blessing.' A heaving-line is thrown aboard, and into a small oilskin +bag are put our hastily written messages and the Captain's material +'blessing.' Shades of Romance! Our last link with civilisation +severed by a bottle of Hennessy's Three Star! +</P> + +<P> +The tugmen (after satisfying themselves as to the contents of the bag) +give us a cheer and a few parting 'skreichs' on their siren and, +turning quickly, make off to a Norwegian barque, lying-to, off Ailsa +Craig. +</P> + +<P> +All hands, under the Mates, are hard driven, sweating on sheet and +halyard to make the most of the light breeze. At the wheel I have +little to do; she is steering easily, asking no more than a spoke or +two, when the Atlantic swell, running under, lifts her to the wind. +Ahead of us a few trawlers are standing out to the Skerryvore Banks. +Broad to the North, the rugged, mist-capped Mull of Cantyre looms up +across the heaving water. The breeze is steady, but a falling +barometer tells of wind or mist ere morning. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness falls, and coast lights show up in all airts. Forward, all +hands are putting a last drag on the topsail halyards, and the voice of +the nigger tells of the fortunes of— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'<I>Renzo—boys, Renzo!</I>'<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +STEERSMANSHIP +</H4> + +<P> +Wee Laughlin, dismissed from the wheel for bad steering, was sitting on +the fore-hatch, a figure of truculence and discontent, mouthing a +statement on the Rights of Man, accompanied by every oath ever heard on +Clydeside from Caird's to Tommy Seath's at Ru'glen. It was not the +loss of his turn that he regretted—he was better here, where he could +squirt tobacco juice at will, than on the poop under the Mate's +eye—but, hardened at the 'Poort' as he was, he could not but feel the +curious glances of his watchmates, lounging about in dog-watch freedom +and making no secret of their contempt of an able seaman who couldn't +steer, to begin with. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow wos she 'eadin', young feller, w'en ye—left?" Cockney Hicks, +glancing away from the culprit, was looking at the trembling leaches of +top'gal'nsails, sign of head winds. +</P> + +<P> +"'Er heid? Ach, aboot Nor' thurty west!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor' thirty west? Blimy! Where th' 'ell's that? 'Ere! Give us it +in points! None o' yer bloomin' degrees aboard square-sail, young +feller!" +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, that's a' th' wye I ken it!" Sullen, mouth twisted askew in the +correct mode of the 'Poort,' defiant. +</P> + +<P> +"It wis aye degrees in a' th' boats I hiv been in—none o' thae wee +black chats ye ca' p'ints; we niver heeded thim. Degrees, an' 'poort' +an' 'starboord '—t' hell wit' yer 'luffs' an' 'nae highers'!" +</P> + +<P> +"Blimy!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, blimy! An' I cud steer them as nate's ye like; but I'm no guid +enough fur that swine o' a Mate, aft there!" He spat viciously. "'Nae +higher,' sez he t' me. 'Nae higher, Sur,' says I, pitten' the wheel a +bit doon. 'Up,' says he, 'up, blast ye! Ye're lettin 'r come up i' +th' win',' says he. I pit th' —— wheel up, keepin' ma 'ee on th' +compass caird; but that wis a fau't tae.... 'Damn ye!' says he; 'keep +yer 'ee on th' to'gallan' leaches,' ... 'Whaur's that?' sez I. 'Oh, +holy smoke!' sez he. 'Whit hiv we got here?' An' he cam' ower and hut +me a kick, an' shouts fur anither haun' t' th' wheel! ... By ——" +mumbling a vicious formula, eyes darkening angrily as he looked aft at +the misty figure on the poop. +</P> + +<P> +Cockney looked at him curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Wot boats 'ave ye bin in, anyway?" he said. "Them boats wot ye never +steered by th' win' before?" +</P> + +<P> +"—— fine boats! A ban' sicht better nor this bluidy ould wreck. +Boats wi' a guid gaun screw at th' stern av thim! Steamers, av coorse! +This is th' furst bluidy win'-jammer I hae been in, an' by —— it'll +be th' last! An' that Mate! Him! ... Oh! If I only hid 'm in +Rue-en' Street ... wi' ma crood aboot,"—kicking savagely at a coil of +rope—"he widna be sae smert wi' 'is fit! Goad, no!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye' fust win'-jammer, eh?" said Cockney pleasantly. "Oh well—ye'll +l'arn a lot! Blimy, ye'll l'arn a lot before ye sees Rue-hend Street +again. An' look 'ere!"—as if it were a small matter—"if ye cawn't +steer th' bloomin' ship afore we clears th' bloomin' Channel, ye kin +count <I>hon</I> me fer a bloomin' good 'idin'! I ain't agoin' t' take no +other bloomin' bloke's w'eel! Not much, I ain't!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor me!" "Nor me!" said the others, and Wee Laughlin, looking round at +the ring of threatening faces, realised that he was up against a +greater power than the Officer tramping the poop beyond. +</P> + +<P> +"Wull ye no'?" he said, spitting with a great show of bravery. "Wull +ye no'? Mebbe I'll hae sumthin' t' say aboot th' hidin'.... An' ye'll +hae twa av us tae hide whin ye're a' it. I'm nut th' only yin. +There's the Hielan'man ... him wi' th' fush scales on's oilskins. He +nivvir wis in a win'-jammer afore, he telt me; an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"An' whaat eef I nefer wass in a win'-chammer pefore?" M'Innes, quick +to anger, added another lowering face to the group. "Wait you till I +am sent awaay from th' wheel ... an' thaat iss not yet, no! ... +Hielan'man? ... Hielan'man? ... Tamm you, I wass steerin' by th' win' +pefore you wass porn, aye! ... An' aal t' time you wass in chail, +yess!" +</P> + +<P> +In the face of further enmity, Wee Laughlin said no more, preferring to +gaze darkly at the unknowing Mate, while his lips made strange +formations—excess of thought! The others, with a few further +threats—a word or two about 'hoodlums' and 'them wot signed for a +man's wage, an' couldn't do a man's work'—returned to their short +dog-watch pacings, two and two, talking together of former voyages and +the way of things on their last ships. +</P> + +<P> +We were in the North Channel, one day out, with the Mull of Cantyre +just lost to view. The light wind that had carried us out to the Firth +had worked to the westward, to rain and misty weather, and all day we +had been working ship in sight of the Irish coast, making little +headway against the wind. It was dreary work, this laggard setting +out—hanging about the land, tack and tack, instead of trimming yards +to a run down Channel. Out on the open sea we could perforce be +philosophic, and talk of 'the more days, the more dollars'; but here in +crowded waters, with the high crown of Innistrahull mocking at our +efforts, it was difficult not to think of the goodness of a shore life. +As the close of each watch came round the same spirit of discontent +prompted the question of the relief, officer or man. On the poop it +was, "Well, Mister! How's her head now? Any sign of a slant?" On the +foredeck, "'Ere! Wot th' 'ell 'ave ye bin doin' with 'er? Got th' +bloomin' anchor down or wot?" +</P> + +<P> +At nightfall the rain came down heavily before fitful bursts of chill +wind. Ours was the first watch, and tramping the deck in stiff, new +oilskins, we grumbled loudly at the ill-luck that kept us marking time. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder w'y th' Old Man don't put abaht an' run dahn th' Gawges +Channel. Wot's 'e 'angin' abaht 'ere for, hanyw'y? Wot does 'e +expeck?" said Cockney, himself a 'navigator'—by his way of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shift o' wind, or something," said I. "I was aft at th' binnacles +an' heard him talkin' t' th' Mate about it. Says th' wind 'll back t' +th' south'ard if th' barometer don't rise. Told the Mate to call him +if the glass went up before twelve. I see old 'Steady-all'" (we are +one day out, but all properly named) "popping up and down the cabin +stairs. He'll be building a reef of burnt matches round the barometers +before that fair wind comes." +</P> + +<P> +"Sout' vass fair vind, ass ve goes now, aind't id?" asked Dutch John, a +pleasant-faced North German. +</P> + +<P> +"Fair wind? 'Oo th' 'ell's talkin' 'bout fair win's, an' that Shmit at +th' w'eel? 'Ow d'ye expeck a fair win' with a Finn—a bloody Rooshian +Finn's a-steerin' ov 'er?" Martin, a tough old sea-dog, with years of +service, claimed a hearing. +</P> + +<P> +"No, an' we won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky steers 'er! Ain't +much that way myself—me bein' a Liverpool man—but there's Collins +there—the nigger.... Niggers is lucky, an' West-country-men, an' +South of Ireland men—if they ain't got black 'air—but Finns! Finns +is the wu'st o' bloody bad luck! ... Knowed a Finn onst wot raised an +'owlin' gale agin us, just a-cos th' Ol' Man called 'im a cross-eyed +son ef a gun fur breakin' th' p'int ov a marlinspike! Raised an +'owlin' gale, 'e did! No, no! Ye won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky +man goes aft. 'Ere, Collins! Your nex' w'eel, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Collins grinned an affirmative. +</P> + +<P> +"Right-o! Well, young fellers, ye kin spit on yer 'an's fur squarin' +them yards somewheres between four an' eight bells. Nuthin' like a +nigger for bringin' fair win's.... An' 'e's a speshul kind o' nigger, +too.... Nova Scotiaman, Pictou way ... talks the same lingo as th' +'ilandman ... 'im on th' look-out, there." +</P> + +<P> +"Not the Gaelic, surely?" said I. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, Gaelic. That's it. They speak that lingo out there, black an' +w'ite. Knowed lots o' niggers wot spoke it ... an' chows too!" +</P> + +<P> +I turned to Collins—a broad, black nigger with thick lips, woolly +hair, white, gleaming teeth—the type! He grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yass," he said. "Dat's ri'! Dey speak de Gaelic dere—dem +bluenose Scotchmen, an' Ah larn it when Ah wass small boy. Ah doan' +know much now ... forgot it mos' ... but Ah know 'nuff t' ask dat boy +Munro how de wass. <I>Hoo! Ho!! Hoo!!!</I> 'Cia mar tha thu nis,' Ah +says, an' he got so fright', he doan' be seasick no mo'!" +</P> + +<P> +A wondrous cure! +</P> + +<P> +At ten Collins relieved the wheel and we looked for the shift that old +Martin had promised, but there was no sign of it—no lift to the misty +horizon, no lessening in the strength of the squalls, now heavy with a +smashing of bitter sleet. Bunched up against the helm, a mass of +oilskins glistening in the compass light, our 'lucky man' scarce seemed +to be doing anything but cower from the weather. Only the great eyes +of him, peering aloft from under the peak of his sou'wester, showed +that the man was awake; and the ready turns of the helm, that brought a +steering tremor to the weather leaches, marked him a cunning steersman, +whichever way his luck lay. +</P> + +<P> +Six bells struck, the Mate stepped below to the barometers, and a gruff +"Up! up!" (his way of a whisper) accompanied the tapping of the +aneroid. There he found encouragement and soon had the Old Man on +deck, peering with him in the wind's eye at the brightening glare of +Innistrahull Light out in the west. +</P> + +<P> +"Clearing, eh? And the glass risin'," said the Old Man. "Looks like +nor'-west! Round she goes, Mister: we'll lose no more time. Stan' by +t' wear ship!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye, Sir! Stan' by t' square mainyards, the watch, there!" +</P> + +<P> +Shouting as he left the poop, the Mate mustered his men at the braces. +</P> + +<P> +"Square mainyards! That's th' talk," said old Martin, throwing the +coils down with a swing. "Didn't Ah tell ye it wos a nigger as'd bring +a fair win'!" +</P> + +<P> +"But it ain't fair yet," said I. "Wind's west as ever it was; only th' +Old Man's made up his mind t' run her down th' George's Channel. Might +ha' done that four hours ago!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wot's th' use o' talkin' like that? 'Ow th' 'ell could 'e make up 'is +min' wi' a Rooshian Finn at th' w'eel, eh? Don't tell me! Ah knows as +niggers is lucky an' Finns ain't; an' don't ye give me none o' yer +bloody sass, young feller, cos ..." ("Haul away mainyards, there!") ... +"<I>Ho! ... io ... io....</I> Ho! round 'em in, me sons. ... <I>Ho! ... io +... io....</I> Twenty days t' th' Line, boys! ... <I>Ho ... io ... ho!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +A hard case, Martin! +</P> + +<P> +Turning on heel, we left Innistrahull to fade away on the quarter, and, +under the freshening breeze, made gallant steering for the nigger. +This was more like the proper way to go to sea, and when eight bells +clanged we called the other watch with a rousing shout. +</P> + +<P> +"Out, ye bloomin' Jonahs! Turn out, and see what the port watch can do +for ye. A fair wind down Channel, boys! Come on! Turn out, ye hungry +Jonahs, and coil down for your betters!" +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +After two days of keen sailing, running through the Channel traffic, we +reached the edge of soundings. The nor'-west breeze still held, though +blowing light, and under a spread of canvas we were leaning away to the +south'ard on a course for the Line Crossing. We sighted a large +steamer coming in from the west, and the Old Man, glad of a chance to +be reported, hauled up to 'speak' her. In hoists of gaily coloured +bunting we told our name and destination, and a wisp of red and white +at the liner's mast acknowledged our message. As she sped past she +flew a cheering signal to wish us a 'pleasant voyage,' and then lowered +her ensign to ours as a parting salute. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep her off to her course again—sou'-west, half south!" ordered the +Old Man when the last signal had been made. +</P> + +<P> +"Aff tae her coorse ag'in, Sur! Sou'-west, hauf south, Sur!" +</P> + +<P> +At sound of the steersman's answer I turned from my job at the signal +locker. Wee Laughlin, eyes on the weather clew of the royals, was +learning! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK +</H4> + +<P> +The guttering lamp gave little light in the half-deck; its trimming had +been neglected on this day of storm, so we sat in semi-gloom listening +to the thunder of seas outside. On the grimy deal table lay the +remains of our supper—crumbs of broken sea-biscuits, a scrap of greasy +salt horse, dirty plates and pannikins, a fork stabbed into the deal to +hold the lot from rolling, and an overturned hook-pot that rattled from +side to side at each lurch of the ship, the dregs of the tea it had +held dripping to the weltering floor. For once in a way we were +miserably silent. We sat dourly together, as cheerless a quartette as +ever passed watch below. "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" +asked Hansen, throwing off his damp jacket and boots and turning into +his bunk. "'A life on th' ocean wave,' eh? Egad! here's one who +wishes he had learned to drive a wagon!" +</P> + +<P> +"And another," said Eccles. "That—or selling matches on th' highway! +... Come on, Kid! Get a move on ye and clear away! ... And mind ye +jamm the gear off in the locker. No more o' these tricks like ye did +in Channel—emptyin' half the bloomin' whack into th' scupper! You +jamm the gear off proper, or I'll lick ye!" +</P> + +<P> +Young Munro, the 'peggy' of our watch, swallowed hard and set about his +bidding. His small features were pinched and drawn, and a ghastly +pallor showed that a second attack of sea-sickness was not far off. He +staggered over to the table and made a half-hearted attempt to put the +gear away, +</P> + +<P> +"What's th' matter with ye?" said Eccles roughly. "Ye've been long +enough away from ye'r mammy t' be able t' keep ye'r feet. A fortnight +at sea, an' still comin' th' 'Gentle Annie'! You look sharp now, an' +don't——" +</P> + +<P> +"Eccles!" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"You let the Kid alone," said Hansen in a dreamy, half-sleepy tone. +"You let the Kid alone, or I'll twist your damn neck! Time enough for +you to start chinnin' when your elders are out o' sight. You shut up!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, all right! Ye needn't get ratty. If you want t' pamper the +bloomin' Kid, it's none of my business, I s'pose.... All the same, you +took jolly good care I did <I>my</I> 'peggy' last voyage! There was no +pamperin' that I remember!" +</P> + +<P> +"Different!" said Hansen, still in the same sleepy tone. "Different! +You were always big enough an' ugly enough t' stand the racket. You +leave the Kid alone!" +</P> + +<P> +Eccles turned away to his bunk and, seeking his pipe, struck match +after match in a vain attempt to light the damp tobacco. Now and then +the ship would falter in her swing—an ominous moment of silence and +steadiness—before the shock of a big sea sent her reeling again. The +crazy old half-deck rocked and groaned at the battery as the sea ran +aft, and a spurt of green water came from under the covering board. +Some of the sea-chests worked out of the lashings and rattled down to +leeward. Eccles and I triced them up, then stowed the supper gear in +the locker. +</P> + +<P> +"A few more big 'uns like that," said I, "and this rotten old house 'll +go a-voyagin'! ... Wonder it has stood so long." +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye think there's danger?" asked the Kid, in a falter, and turning +terrified eyes on one after another. +</P> + +<P> +"Course," said Hansen—we had thought him asleep—"course there is! +That's what ye came here for, isn't it? This is when th' hero stands +on th' weather taffrail, graspin' th' tautened backst'y an' hurlin' +defiance at th' mighty elements—'Nick Carter,' chap. one!" +</P> + +<P> +Eccles and I grinned. Munro took heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Danger," still the drowsy tone, "I should think there is! Why, any +one o' these seas might sweep the harness-cask and t'morrow's dinner +overboard! Any one of 'em might——" +</P> + +<P> +The door swung to with a crash, a blast of chill wind and rain blew in +on us, the lamp flickered and flared, a dripping oilskin-clad figure +clambered over the washboard. +</P> + +<P> +"Door! door!" we yelled as he fumbled awkwardly with the handle. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up! Ye'd think it was the swing-door of a pub. t' hear ye +shouting!" He pulled heavily, and the broken-hinged baulk slammed into +place. It was Jones, of the other watch, come in to turn us out. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm hanged!" He looked around the house—at the litter on the +floor, at the spurting water that lashed across with the lurch of her. +"Why don't some of ye bale the place out 'stead of standing by t' shout +'Door, door!' when there's no need? Damn! Look at that!" She lurched +again. A foot or more of broken water dashed from side to side, +carrying odds of loose gear with it. "Egad! The port watch for lazy +sojers—every time! Why don't ye turn to an' dry the half-deck out? +Oh no; not your way! It's 'Damn you, Jack—I'm all right!' with you +chaps. Goin' on deck again soon, eh? Why should ye dry up for the +other watch, eh? ... Oh! all right. Just you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dry up yourself, Jones!" Hansen sat up in his bunk and turned his +legs out. "What you making all the noise about? We've been balin' and +balin', and it's no use! No use at all ... with that covering board +working loose and the planks opening out at every roll.... What's up, +anyway? ... All hands, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. 'All hands wear ship' at eight bells! We've just set the fore +lower tops'l. Think we must be getting near the Western Islands by the +way th' Old Man's poppin' up and down. It's pipin' outside! Blowin' +harder than ever, and that last big sea stove in the weather side of +the galley. The watch are at it now, planking up and that.... Well, +I'm off! Ye've quarter an hour t' get your gear on. Lively, now! ..." +At the door he turned, eyeing the floor, now awash. "Look here, young +'un"—to poor, woebegone Munro—"the Mate says you're not to come on +deck. You stay here and bale up, an' if the damn place isn't dry when +we come below I'll hide the life out o' ye! ... Oh, it's no use +screwin' your face up. 'Cry baby' business is no good aboard a packet! +You buck up an' bale the house ... or ... look out!" He heaved at the +door, sprawled over, and floundered out into the black night. +</P> + +<P> +Munro turned a white, despairing face on us elders. We had no support +for him. Hansen was fumbling with his belt. I was drawing on my long +boots. Both of us seemed not to have heard. This was the way of the +half-deck. With Eccles it had been different. He was only a second +voyager, a dog-watch at sea—almost a 'greenhorn.' There was time +enough for him to 'chew the rag' when he had got the length of keeping +a regular 'wheel and look out.' Besides, it was a 'breach' for him to +start bossing about when there were two of his elders in the house. We +could fix him all right! +</P> + +<P> +Ah! But Jones! ... It was not that we were afraid of him. Either of +us would have plugged him one at the word 'Go!' if it had been a +straight affair between us. But this was no business of ours. Jones +was almost a man. In a month or two his time would be out. There +could be no interference, not a word could be said; it was—the way of +the half-deck. +</P> + +<P> +Swaying, sailor-like, on the reeling deck, we drew on our oilskins and +sea-boots, buckled our belts, tied down the flaps of our sou'westers, +and made ready. While we were at it Munro started on his task. He +filled the big bucket, dragged it half-way to the door, then sat down +heavily with a low cry of dismay. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter, Kid, eh?" said Hansen kindly. "Got the blues, eh? +Buck up, man! Blue's a rotten colour aboard ship! Here, hand me the +bucket!" +</P> + +<P> +He gripped the handle, stood listening for a chance, then swung the +door out an inch or two, and tipped the bucket. +</P> + +<P> +"It ... it's ... not ... that," said the youngster. "It's ... +s-s-staying in here w-when you fellows are on d-deck! ... Ye ... +s-said th' house m-might go ... any time! ... Let me come!..." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! Th' Mate said you weren't t' come on deck! You stay here! +You'd only be in th' way! You'll be all right here; the rotten old box +'ll stand a few gales yet! ... What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +Above the shrilling of the gale we heard the Mate's bull roar: "All ... +hands ... wear ... ship!" +</P> + +<P> +We took our chance, swung the door to, and dashed out. Dismayed for a +moment—the sudden change from light to utter darkness—we brought up, +grasping the life-lines in the waist, and swaying to meet the wild +lurches of the ship. As our eyes sobered to the murk we saw the lift +of the huge seas that thundered down the wind. No glint of moon or +star broke through the mass of driving cloud that blackened the sky to +windward; only when the gleam of a breaking crest spread out could we +mark the depth to which we drove, or the height when we topped a wall +of foaming water. The old barque was labouring heavily, reeling to it, +the decks awash to our knees. Only the lower tops'ls and a stays'l +were set; small canvas, but spread enough to keep her head at the right +angle as wave after wave swept under or all but over her. "Stations!" +we heard the Mate calling from his post at the lee fore braces. "Lay +along here! Port watch, forrard!" +</P> + +<P> +We floundered through the swirl of water that brimmed the decks and +took our places. Aft, we could see the other watch standing by at the +main. Good! It would be a quick job, soon over! The Old Man was at +the weather gangway, conning the ship and waiting for a chance. Below +him, all hands stood at his orders—twenty-three lives were in his +keeping at the moment; but there was no thought of that—we knew our +Old Jock, we boasted of his sea cunning. At length the chance came; a +patch of lesser violence after a big sea had been met and surmounted. +The sure, steady eye marked the next heavy roller. There was time and +distance! ... "Helm up, there!" (Old Jock for a voice!) +</P> + +<P> +Now her head paid off, and the order was given, 'Square mainyards!' +Someone wailed a hauling cry and the great yards swung round, tops'l +lifting to the quartering wind. As the wind drew aft she gathered +weight and scudded before the gale. Seas raced up and crashed their +bulk at us when, at the word, we strained together to drag the +foreyards from the backstays. Now she rolled the rails under—green, +solid seas to each staggering lift. At times it seemed as if we were +all swept overboard there was no hold to the feet! We stamped and +floundered to find a solid place to brace our feet and knees against; +trailed out on the ropes—all afloat—when she scooped the ocean up, +yet stood and hauled when the chance was ours. A back roll would come. +"Hold all! ... Stand to it, sons! ..." With a jerk that seemed to +tear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. There +was no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." Then, to us +again: "Hay ... o ... Ho.... Hay ... o! ... Round 'em in, boys! ..." +Quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran in +the slack. +</P> + +<P> +"Vast haulin' foreyards! Turn all and lay aft!" We belayed the ropes, +and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. The +sea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail with +great fury. Twice the Second Mate, who was 'tending the weather +braces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "Haul +awaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post. +"Haul, you!" +</P> + +<P> +We dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again we +stood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to. +</P> + +<P> +"All hands off the deck!" roared the Mate when the headyards were +steadied. "Lay aft, all hands!" +</P> + +<P> +Drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in our +scramble for safe quarters—some to the poop, some to the main rigging. +We knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that. +</P> + +<P> +"All ready, Sir," said the Mate when he came aft to report. "All hands +are off the deck!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye!" Old Jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly for +a chance to put his helm down. There was a perceptible lull in the +wind, but the sea was high as ever. The heavy, racing clouds had +broken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through which +shone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for a +moment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed a long time before the Old Man saw the 'smooth' he was +waiting for. A succession of big seas raced up, broke, and poured +aboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to the +trough. Now—the chance! "Ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "Stand +by, all!" Her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way was +well timed. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone on +the wet decks. The half-deck door was swung out—a figure blocked the +light, sprawling over the washboard—Munro! "Back!" we yelled. "Go +back!" +</P> + +<P> +There was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ran +forward, then aft, bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +The ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. Already her head was +driving down before the coming of the wave that was to check her way. +In a moment it would be over us. The Mate leapt to the ladder, but, as +he balanced, we saw one of the men in the main rigging slide down a +backstay, drop heavily on deck, recover, and dash on towards the boy. +</P> + +<P> +Broad on the beam of her, the sea tore at us and brimmed the decks—a +white-lashing fury of a sea, that swept fore and aft, then frothed in a +whelming torrent to leeward. +</P> + +<P> +When we got forward through the wash of it, we found Jones crouching +under the weather rail. One arm was jammed round the bulwark +stanchion, the wrist stiffened and torn by the wrench, the other held +the Kid—a limp, unconscious figure. +</P> + +<P> +"Carry him aft," said Jones. "I think ... he's ... all right ... only +half drowned!" He swayed as he spoke, holding his hand to his head, +gasping, and spitting out. "D-damn young swine! What ... he ... +w-want t' come on deck f-for? T-told ... him t' ... s-stay below!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE 'DEAD HORSE' +</H4> + +<P> +Fine weather, if hot as the breath of Hades, and the last dying airs of +the nor'-east trades drifting us to the south'ard at a leisured three +knots. +</P> + +<P> +From the first streak of daylight we had been hard at work finishing up +the general overhaul cf gear and rigging that can only be done in the +steady trade winds. Now it was over; we could step out aloft, sure of +our foothold; all the treacherous ropes were safe in keeping of the +'shakin's cask,' and every block and runner was working smoothly, in +readiness for the shifting winds of the doldrums that would soon be +with us. +</P> + +<P> +The work done, bucket and spar were manned and, for the fourth time +that day, the sun-scorched planks and gaping seams of the deck were +sluiced down—a job at which we lingered, splashing the limpid water as +fast the wetted planks steamed and dried again. A grateful coolness +came with the westing of the tyrant sun, and when our miserable evening +meal had been hurried through we sought the deck again, to sit under +the cool draught of the foresail watching the brazen glow that attended +the sun's setting, the glassy patches of windless sea, the faint +ripples that now and then swept over the calm—the dying breath of a +stout breeze that had lifted us from 27° North. What talk there was +among us concerned our voyage, a never-failing topic; and old Martin, +to set the speakers right, had brought his 'log'—a slender +yardstick—from the forecastle. +</P> + +<P> +"... ty-seven ... ty-eight ... twenty-nine," he said, counting a row of +notches. "Thirty days hout t'morrer, an' th' 'dead 'orse' is hup t' +day, sons!" +</P> + +<P> +"'Dead 'oss' hup t' dye? 'Ow d'ye mike that aht?" said 'Cockney' +Hicks, a man of importance, now promoted to bo'sun. "Fust Sunday we +wos in Channel, runnin' dahn th' Irish lights, worn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye!" +</P> + +<P> +"Secon' Sunday we wos routin' abaht in them strong southerly win's, +hoff th' Weste'n Isles?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," said Martin, patting his yard-stick, "Right-o!" +</P> + +<P> +"Third Sunday we 'ad th' trides, runnin' south; lawst Sunday wos fourth +Sunday hout, an' this 'ere's Friday—'peasoup-dye,' ain't it? 'Ow d'ye +mike a month o' that? 'Dead 'oss' ain't up till t'morrer, I reckon!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, ye reckons wrong, bo'sun! Ye ain't a-countin' of th' day wot we +lay at anchor at th' Tail o' th' Bank!" +</P> + +<P> +"Blimy, no! I'd forgotten that dye!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! An' I tell ye th' 'dead 'orse' is hup, right enuff. I don't make +no mistake in my log.... Look at 'ere," pointing to a cross-cut at the +head of his stick. "That's the dye wot we lay at anchor—w'en you an' +me an' the rest ov us wos proper drunk. 'Ere we starts away," turning +to another side; "them up strokes is 'ead win's, an' them downs is +fair; 'ere's where we got that blow hoff th' Weste'n Isles," putting +his finger-nail into a deep cleft; "that time we carries away th' +topmas' stays'l sheet; an' 'ere's th' trade win's wot we're 'avin' now! +... All k'rect, I tell ye. Ain't no mistakes 'ere, sons!" He put the +stick aside the better to fill his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Vat yo' calls dem holes in de top, Martin, <I>zoone</I>? Dot vass +sometings, aind't id?" +</P> + +<P> +Vootgert, the Belgian, picked the stick up, turning it over carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +Martin snatched it away. +</P> + +<P> +"A course it's 'sometings,' ye Flemish 'og! If ye wants to know +pertiklar, them 'oles is two p'un' o' tebaccer wot I had sence I come +aboard. Don't allow no Ol' Man t' do <I>me</I> in the bloomin' hye w'en it +comes t' tottin' th' bill! ... I'll watch it! I keeps a good tally ov +wot I gets, tho' I can't read nor write like them young 'know-alls' +over there" (Martin had no love for 'brassbounders'), "them wot orter +be aft in their proper place, an' not sittin' 'ere, chinnin' wi' th' +sailormen!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who's chinnin'?" said Jones, Martin's particular enemy. "Ain't said a +word! Not but what I wanted to ... sittin' here, listenin' to a lot of +bally rot about ye'r dead horses an' logs an' that!" +</P> + +<P> +Jones rose with a great pantomime of disgust (directed especially at +the old man), and went aft, leaving Munro and me to weather Martin's +rage. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up, Martin!" said the bo'sun. "They ain't doin' no 'arm! +Boys is boys!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ho no, they ain't, bo'sun: not in this ship, they ain't. Boys is men, +an' men's old beggars, 'ere! I don't 'old wi' them a-comin' forrard +'ere at awl! A place fer everything, an' everybody 'as 'is place, I +says! Captin' on the bloomin' poop o' her, an' cook t' th' foresheet! +That's shipshape an' Bristol fashion, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's so, that's so! ... But them young 'uns is 'ere for +hin-for-mashun, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Martin grumbled loudly and turned to counting his notches. "Know-alls! +That's wot <I>they</I> is—ruddy know-alls! Told me I didn't know wot a +fair win' wos!" he muttered as he fingered his 'log.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Dead 'oss?'" said the bo'sun, turning to Munro. "'Dead 'oss' is th' +fust month out, w'en ye're workin' for ye'r boardin'-mawster. 'E gets +ye'r month's advawnce w'en ye sails, an' ye've got to work that hoff +afore ye earns any pay!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who vass ride your 'dead 'oss,' Martin?" asked the Belgian when quiet +was restored. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Jemmy Grant; 'im wot 'as an 'ouse in Springfield Lane. Come in t' +th' Clyde in th' <I>Loch Ness</I> from Melb'un—heighty-five days, an' a +damn good passage too, an' twel' poun' ten of a pay day! Dunno' 'ow it +went.... Spent it awl in four or five days. I put up at Jemmy Grant's +for a week 'r two arter th' money was gone, an' 'e guv' me five bob an' +a new suit of oilskins out 'er my month's advawnce on this 'ere 'ooker!" +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed to goodness, now! That iss not pad at all, indeed," said John +Lewis, our brawny Welshman. "I came home in th' <I>Wanderer</I>, o' St. +Johnss, an' wass paid off with thirty-fife poun'ss, I tell 'oo. I +stayed in Owen Evanss' house in Great Clyde Street, an' when I went +there I give him ten poun'ss t' keep for me. 'Indeed, an' I will, m' +lad,' he sayss, 'an' 'oo can have it whenever 'oo likes,' he sayss.... +Damn him for a rogue, I tell 'oo!" +</P> + +<P> +Martin laughed. "Well, ye was soft. Them blokes' bizness is keepin', +ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Iss, indeed! Well, I tell 'oo, I got in trouble with a policeman in +th' Broomielaw. It took four o' them to run me in, indeed!" pleasantly +reminiscent; "an' the next mornin' I wass put up for assaultin' th' +police. 'I don't know nothin' about it,' I sayss, when the old fella' +asked me. 'Thirty shillins' or fourteen days,' he sayss! ... Well, I +didn't haf any money left, but I told a policeman, and he said he would +send for Owen Evanss.... After a while Evanss come to the office, an' +they took me in. I was quite quiet, indeed, bein' sober, I tell +'oo.... 'Owen, <I>machgen-i</I>,' I sayss, 'will 'oo pay the thirty +shillin's out of the ten poun'ss I give 'oo?' 'What ten poun'ss?' he +sayss. 'What ten poun'ss?' I sayss. '<I>Diwedd-i</I>, the ten poun'ss I +give 'oo t' keep for me,' I sayss. 'Ten poun'ss,' he sayss, 'ten +poun'ss to keep for 'oo, an' it iss two weeks' board an' lodgin' 'oo +are owin' me, indeed!' 'Damn 'oo!' I sayss. 'Did I not give 'oo ten +poun'ss when I wass paid off out of the <I>Wanderer</I>, an' 'oo said 'oo +would keep it for ne and give it back again when I wanted it?' I +sayss.... 'What are 'oo talkin' about?' he sayss. ''Oo must be drunk, +indeed!' ... 'Have 'oo got a receipt for it, m' lad?' sayss the +Sergeant. 'No, indeed,' I sayss. 'I didn't ask him for a receipt.' +... 'Oh,' he sayss, 'we've heard this pefore,' he sayss, shuttin' th' +book an' signin' to the policeman to put me away. I made for Owen +Evanss, but there wass too many policemen indeed.... So I had to serve +the month, I tell 'oo!" John stroked his beard mournfully, muttering, +"Ten poun'ss, indeed! Ten poun'ss, py damm!" +</P> + +<P> +"An' didn't ye git square wi' th' bloke wot done ye?" asked the bo'sun. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, iss! Iss, indeed!" John brightened up at thought of it. "When I +came out I went straight to Great Clyde Street an' give him th' best +hidin' he effer got, I tell 'oo! I took ten poun'ss of skin an' hair +out of him pefore th' police came. Fine! I think it wass fine, an' I +had to do two months for that.... When I come out the street wass full +of policemen, indeed, so I signed in this barque an' sold my advance +note to a Jew for ten pob!" +</P> + +<P> +Ten shillings! For what, if the discounter saw to it that his man went +to sea, was worth three pounds when the ship had cleared the Channel! +On the other hand, Dan Nairn, a Straits of Canso sailor-farmer (mostly +farmer), had something to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Waall, boy-ees, they ain't awl like that, I guess! I came acraus +caow-punchin' on a Donalds'n cattle boat, an' landed in Glasgow with +damn all but a stick ov chewin' tebaccer an' two dallars, Canad'n, in +my packet. I put up with a Scowwegian in Centre Street; a stiff good +feller too! Guess I was 'baout six weeks or more in 'is 'aouse, an' he +give me a tidy lot 'er fixin's—oilskins an' sea-boots an' awl—out 'er +my month's advance." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, some is good and some ain't," said Martin. "Ah knowed a feller +wot 'ad an 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse in Tiger Bay. Awl th' stiffs in +Cardiff use' ter lay back on 'im w'en nobody else 'ud give 'em 'ouse +room—hoodlums and Dagos an' Greeks wot couldn't get a ship proper. 'E +'ad rooms in 'is 'ouse fitted up wi' bunks like a bloomin' fo'cs'le, +ah' 'is crowd got their grub sarved out, same's they wos at sea. Every +tide time 'e wos down at th' pier-'ead wi' six or seven of 'is +gang—'ook-pots an' pannikins, an' bed an' piller—waitin' their chanst +ov a 'pier-'ead jump.' That wos th' only way 'e could get 'is men +away, 'cos they worn't proper sailormen as c'd go aboard a packet 'n +ast for a sight like you an' me. Most of 'em 'ad bad discharges or +dead-'un's papers or somethin'! 'Pier-'ead jumps,' they wos, an' they +wouldn't never 'a' got a ship, only f'r that feller an' 'is 'ard-up +boardin'-'ouse." +</P> + +<P> +Martin picked up his precious 'log' and turned to go below. "Anyways, +good or bad," he said, "them 'sharks' 'as got my ol' iron fer the last +month, an' if this worn't a starvation bloomin' Scotch packet, an' a +crew of bloomin' know-alls, fixing me with a fancy curl of lip, we'd a +<I>chanteyed</I> th' 'dead 'orse' aft t'night an' ast th' Ol' Man t' splice +the mainbrace." +</P> + +<P> +He passed into the forecastle, and through the open door we could hear +him sing a snatch of the 'dead horse' <I>chantey</I>:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>But now th' month is up, ol' turk!</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' we says so, an' we 'opes so.</I>)</SPAN><BR> +<I>Get up, ye swine, an' look fer work!</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>Oh! Poor—ol'—man!</I>)</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>Get up, ye swine, an' look fer graft!</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' we says so, an' we 'opes so.</I>)</SPAN><BR> +<I>While we lays on an' yanks ye aft!</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>Oh! Poor—ol'—man!</I>)"</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +'SEA PRICE' +</H4> + +<P> +At first weak and baffling, the south-east trades strengthened and blew +true as we reached away to the south'ard under all sail. Already we +had forgotten the way of bad weather. It seemed ages since we had last +tramped the weltering decks, stamping heavily in our big sea-boots for +warmth, or crouching in odd corners to shelter from the driven spray, +the bitter wind and rain. Now we were fine-weather voyagers—like the +flying-fish and the albacore, and bonita, that leapt the sea we sailed +in. The tranquil days went by in busy sailor work; we spent the nights +in a sleepy languor, in semi-wakefulness. In watch below we were +assured of our rest, and even when 'on deck'—save for a yawning pull +at sheet or halyard when the Mate was jealous at our idling, or a brief +spell at wheel or look out—were at liberty to seek out a soft plank +and lie back, gazing up at the gently swaying mastheads till sleep came +again. Higher and higher, as the days went by, the southern stars rose +from the sea-line, while—in the north—homely constellations dipped +and were lost to view. Night by night we had the same true breeze, the +sea unchanged, the fleecy trade clouds forming on the sea-line—to fade +ere they had reached the zenith. There seemed no end to our pleasured +progress! Ah, it is good to be alive and afloat where the trades blow. +Down south, there! +</P> + +<P> +But, in spite of the fine weather and the steady breeze, there were +signs of what our voyage would be when the 'barefoot days' were done. +Out beyond the clear sky and tender clouds, the old hands saw the +wraith of the rugged Cape that we had yet to weather. The impending +wrestle with the rigours of 'the Horn' sent them to their preparations +when we had scarce crossed the Line. Old Martin was the fore hand. +Now, his oilskins hung out over the head, stretched on hoops and +broomsticks, glistening in a brave new coat of oil and blacking. Then +Vootgert and Dutch John took the notion, and set to work by turns at a +canvas wheel-coat that was to defy the worst gale that ever blew. +Young Houston—canny Shetlander—put aside his melodeon, and clicked +and clicked his needles at a famous pair of north-country hose. Welsh +John and M'Innes—'the Celtic twins'—clubbed their total outfit and +were busy overhauling, while Bo'sun Hicks spent valuable time and +denied us his yarns while he fortified his leaky bunk by tar and strips +of canvas. Even Wee Laughlin, infected by the general industry of the +forecastle, was stitching away (long, outward-bound stitches) at a +cunning arrangement of trousers that would enable him to draw on his +two pairs at once. All had some preparation to make—all but we +brassbounders! +</P> + +<P> +We saw no farther than the fine weather about us. Most had been 'round +the Horn' before, and we should have known but there was no old +'steady-all' to ballast our cock-a-boat, and we scorned the wisdom of +the forecastle. 'Good enough t' be goin' on with,' and 'come day, go +day'—were our mottoes in the half-deck. Time enough, by and by, when +the weather showed a sign! We had work enough when on duty to keep us +healthy! Fine days and 'watch below' were meant for lazying—for old +annuals of the B.O.P., for Dicks's Standards, for the Seaside library! +Everyone knows that the short dog-watches were meant for sing-song and +larking, and, perhaps, a fight, or two! What did we care if Old Martin +and his mates were croak, croak, croakin' about 'standin' by' and +settin' th' gear handy? We were 'hard cases,' all of us, even young +Munro and Burke, the 'nipper' of the starboard watch! <I>We</I> didn't +care! <I>We</I> could stand the racket! <I>Huh!</I> +</P> + +<P> +So we lazied the fine days away, while our sea harness lay stiffening +in the dark lockers. +</P> + +<P> +Subtly, almost imperceptibly, the weather changed. There was a chill +in the night air; it was no longer pleasant to sleep on deck. The +stars were as bright, the sky as clear, the sea as smooth; but when the +sun had gone, damp vapours came and left the deck chill and clammy to +the touch.... 'Barefoot days' were over! +</P> + +<P> +Still and all, the 'times' were good enough. If the flying-fish no +longer swept from under the bows in a glistening shoal, the trades yet +served us well. The days drew on. The day when we shifted the patched +and threadbare tropic sails and bent our stoutest canvas in their +place; the day when Sann'y Armstrong, the carpenter, was set to make +strong weatherboards for the cabin skylights; the day—a cloudy +day—when the spars were doubly lashed and all spare fittings sent +below. We had our warning; there were signs, a plenty! +</P> + +<P> +All too soon our sunny days came to an end. The trades petered out in +calms and squally weather. Off the River Plate a chill wind from the +south set us to 'tack and tack,' and when the wind hauled and let us +free to our course again, it was only to run her into a gale on the +verge of the 'Forties.' Then for three days we lay hove-to, labouring +among heavy seas. +</P> + +<P> +The 'buster' fairly took our breath away. The long spell of light +winds had turned us unhandy for storm work. The swollen ropes, +stiffened in the block-sheaves, were stubborn when we hauled; the wet, +heavy canvas that thrashed at us when stowing sail proved a fighting +demon that called for all our strength; the never-ending small work in +a swirl of lashing water found us slow and laboured at the task. +</P> + +<P> +All this was quickly noted by the Mate, and he lost no time in putting +us to rights. Service in New Bedford whalers had taught him the +'Yankee touch,' and, as M'Innes put it, he was 'no' slow' with his big +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Lay along here, sons," he would roar, standing to the braces.... "Lay +along, sons;—ye know what sons I mean! ... Aft here, ye lazy hounds, +and see me make 'sojers,' sailors!!" +</P> + +<P> +With his language we had no great grievance. We could appreciate a man +who said things—sailor-like and above board—but when it came to +knocking a man about (just because he was 'goin' t' get his oilskins,' +when the order was 'aloft, an' furl') there were ugly looks here and +there. We had our drilling while the gale lasted, and, when it +cleared, our back muscles were 'waking up.' +</P> + +<P> +Now—with moderate weather again—famous preparations began in the +half-deck; everyone of us was in haste to put his weather armour to +rights. Oilskins, damp and sticking, were dragged from dark corners. +"Rotten stuff, anyway. We'll have no more of Blank's outfits, after +this," we said, as we pulled and pinched them apart. "Oh, damn! I +forgot about that stitchin' on the leg of my sea-boot," said one. +"Wish I'd had time t' put a patch on here," said another, ruefully +holding out his rubbers. "Too far gone for darning," said Eccles. +"Here goes," and he snipped the feet part from a pair of stockings and +tied a ropeyarn at the cut! +</P> + +<P> +We were jeered at from the forecastle. Old Martin went about +<I>clucking</I> in his beard. At every new effort on our part, his head +went nod, nod, nodding. "Oh, them brassbounders!" he would say. "Them +ruddy 'know-alls'! Wot did I tell ye, eh? Wot did I tell 'em, w'en we +was a-crossin' th' Line, eh? An' them 's th' fellers wot'll be +a-bossin' of you an' me, bo'sun! Comin' th' 'hard case,' like the big +feller aft there!" +</P> + +<P> +Martin was right, and we felt properly humbled when we sneaked forward +in search of assistance. Happily, in Dan Nairn we found a cunning +cobbler, and for a token in sea currency—a plug or two of hard +tobacco—he patched and mended our boots. With the oilskins, all our +smoothing and pinching was hopeless. The time was gone when we could +scrub the sticky mess off and put a fresh coating of oil on the fabric. +</P> + +<P> +Ah! We pulled long faces now and thought that, perhaps, sing-song and +larking, and Dicks's Standards and the Seaside Library are not good +value for a frozen soaking off the Horn! +</P> + +<P> +But there was still a haven to which we careless mariners could put in +and refit. The Captain's 'slop chest'—a general store, where oilskins +were 'sea priced' at a sovereign, and sea-boots could be had for thirty +shillings! At these figures they would have stood till they crumbled +in a sailor-town shop window, but 50° S. is a world away from +Broomielaw Corner, and we were glad enough to be served, even if old +Niven, the steward, did pass off old stock on us. +</P> + +<P> +"Naw! Ye'll no' get ye'r pick! Yell jist tak' whit 's gien' ye ... or +nane ava'!" +</P> + +<P> +Wee Laughlin was a large buyer. He—of us all—had come to sea 'same +'s he was goin' t' church!' A pier-head jump! So far, he had borrowed +and borrowed, but even good-natured Dutch John was learning English, +and would say, "Jou come to <I>mein haus, und</I> stay mit me," or "<I>Was +für</I> jou nod trink less <I>und</I> buy somet'ings," at each wily approach. +</P> + +<P> +On the day when 'slops' were served out, the Pride of Rue-en' Street +was first at the cabin door. As he was fitted and stepped along +forward with his purchases, the bo'sun saw him, and called: "Hello! +Oilskins an' sea-boots an' new shirts, eh? I see ye're outward bound, +young feller!" Laughlin leered and winked cunning-like. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'ye mean by outward bound," asked Munro. "We're all outward +bound, an't we?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course; of course," said Hicks. "All outward bound! But w'en I +says it that wye, I mean as Lawklin is a-spendin' of 'is 'dibs,' ... +meanin' t' desert w'en we gets out! If 'e don't 'op it as soon as we +anchors in 'Frisco Bay, ye kin call me a ruddy Dutchman!" +</P> + +<P> +"Desert? But that's serious?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ho no! Not there it ain't! Desertin' 's as easy as rollin' off a +log, ... out there! D'ye think th' queer-fella' is goin' t' pay them +prices for 'is kit, if 'e wos goin' t' stop by her in 'Frisco? Not +much 'e ain't! An' ye kin tike it as a few more is goin' t' 'op it, or +ye wouldn't see so many of 'em aft 'ere for their bloomin' 'sundries'!" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Wel, wel</I>, now! These prices is not pad, indeed," said Welsh John, +who had joined us. "I haf paid more than three shillin' for a knife +pefore!" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Heh! Heh!</I>" The bo'sun laughed. "When a 'Taffy' that's a-buyin' +says that, ye may say it's right! ... But, blimy—the boot's on th' +other foot w'en it's 'Taffy' as is a-sellin'! <I>Heh! Heh!</I> There wos +Old Man Lewis of th' <I>Vanguard</I>, o' Liverpool, that I signed in! +Blimy! 'e could tell ye wot 'sea price' is!" +</P> + +<P> +"Good ol' 'sea price,'" said Martin. "Many an' 'appy 'ome, an' garden +wit' a flagstaff, is built o' 'sea price'!" +</P> + +<P> +"Right, ol' son! Right," continued the bo'sun. "Old Man Lewis owned a +row of 'em, ... down in Fishguard.... I sailed in th' <I>Vanguard</I> out +o' Liverpool t' Noo York an' then down south, 'ere—boun' t' Callao. +Off th' Falklan's, the Old Man opens out 'is bloomin' slop-chest an' +starts dealin'. A pound for blankits wot ye c'd shoot peas through, +an' fifteen bob for serge shirts—same kind as th' Sheenies sells a' +four an' tanner in th' Mawrsh! Of course, nobody 'ud buy 'em in at +that price, though we wos all 'parish rigged'—us bein' 'bout eight +months out from 'ome. If we 'ad been intendin' t' leave 'er, like th' +queer-fella, there, it 'ud a bin all right, but we 'ad 'bout +twenty-five poun' doo each of us, an' we wasn't keen on makin' th' Old +Man a n'ansome presint!" +</P> + +<P> +"How could he get that?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Ow could 'e get it? Easy 'nuff, in them days! As soon as we 'ad a +bin over th' rail, 'e 'ud 'ave us down in 'is bloomin' book—slops +supplied—five pun' 'ere—six pun' there—an' so on! ... Well, I was +sayin' as we was goin' south, round th' 'Orn! Winter time it was—an' +cold! Cruel! Ye couldn't tell who ye'r feet belonged to till ye 'ad +ye'r boots off. West an' sou'-west gales, 'ard runnin', ... an' there +we wos, away t' hell an' gone south' o' th' reg'lar track! +</P> + +<P> +"I wos at the wheel one day, an' I 'eard th' Old Man an' th' Mate +confabbin' 'bout th' ship's position. +</P> + +<P> +"'Fifty-nine, forty, south,' says th' Mate. 'Antarctic bloody +exploration, I call this!' ... 'E was frappin' 'is 'an's like a +Fenchurch cabby.... 'It's 'bout time ye wos goin' round, Capt'n! +She'd fetch round 'Cape Stiff' with a true west wind! She'll be in +among th' ice soon, if ye don't alter th' course! Time we was gettin' +out o' this,' says he, 'with two of th' han's frost-bit an' th' rest of +us 'bout perishin'!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Oh no,' says old Lewis. 'No, indeed! Don't you make any mistike, +Mister! South's th' course, ... south till I sells them fine blankits +an' warm shirts!'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ROUNDING THE HORN +</H4> + +<P> +Rounding Cape Horn from the eastward, setting to the teeth of the great +west wind, to the shock and onset of towering seas; furious combination +of the elements that sweep unchecked around the globe! +</P> + +<P> +Days passed, and we fared no farther on. North we would go with the +yards hard on the back-stays; to wear ship, and steer again south over +the same track. Hopeless work it was, and only the prospect of a +slant—a shift of wind that would let us to our journey—kept us +hammering doggedly at the task. +</P> + +<P> +Day after day of huge sea and swell, mountainous in calm or storm. +Leaden-grey skies, with a brief glint of sunshine now and then—for it +was nominally summer time in low latitudes. Days of gloomy calm, +presage of a fiercer blow, when the Old Man (Orcadian philosopher that +he was) caught and skilfully stuffed the great-winged albatross that +flounders helplessly when the wind fails. Days of strong breezes, when +we tried to beat to windward under a straining main-to'gal'nsail; ever +a west wind to thwart our best endeavours, and week-long gales, that we +rode out, hove-to in the trough of overwhelming seas, lurching to +leeward under low canvas. +</P> + +<P> +We had become sailors in earnest. We had forgotten the way of steady +trades and flying-fish weather, and, when the wind howled a whole gale, +we slapped our oilskin-clad thighs and lied cheerfully to each other of +greater gales we had been in. Even Wee Laughlin and M'Innes were +turned to some account and talked of sail and spars as if they had +never known the reek of steamer smoke. In the half-deck we had little +comfort during watch below. At every lurch of the staggering barque, a +flood of water poured through the crazy planking, and often we were +washed out by an untimely opening of the door. Though at heart we +would rather have been porters at a country railway station, we put a +bold front to the hard times and slept with our wet clothes under us +that they might be the less chilly for putting on at eight bells. We +had seldom a stitch of dry clothing, and the galley looked like a +corner of Paddy's market whenever McEwan, the 'gallus' cook, took pity +on our sodden misery. +</P> + +<P> +In the forecastle the men were better off. Collins had rigged an +affair of pipes to draw the smoke away, and it was possible, in all but +the worst of weather, to keep the bogie-stove alight. We would gladly +have shifted to these warmer quarters, but our parents had paid a +premium for <I>privileged berthing</I>, and the Old Man would not hear of +our flitting. Happily, we had little darkness to add to the misery of +our passage, for the sun was far south, and we had only three hours of +night. Yet, when the black squalls of snow and sleet rolled up from +the westward, there was darkness enough. At times a flaw in the +wind—a brief veering to the south—would let us keep the ship +travelling to the westward. All hands would be in high spirits; we +would go below at the end of our watches, making light of sodden +bedclothes, heartened that at last our 'slant' had come. Alas for our +hopes! Before our watch was due we would be rudely wakened. "<I>All +hands wear ship</I>"—the dreaded call, and the Mate thundering at the +half-deck door, shouting orders in a threatening tone that called for +instant spur. Then, at the braces, hanging to the ropes in a swirl of +icy water, facing up to the driving sleet and bitter spray, that cut +and stung like a whiplash. And when at last the yards were laid to the +wind, and the order '<I>down helm</I>' was given, we would spring to the +rigging for safety, and, clinging desperately, watch the furious sweep +of a towering 'greybeard' over the barque, as she came to the wind and +lay-to. +</P> + +<P> +Wild, heart-breaking work! Only the old hands, 'hard cases' like +Martin and Welsh John and the bo'sun, were the stoics, and there was +some small comfort in their "Whoo! This ain't nuthin'! Ye sh'd a' bin +shipmates with me in the ol' <I>Boryallus</I>!" (Or some such ancient +craft.) "<I>Them</I> wos 'ard times!" +</P> + +<P> +Twice we saw Diego Ramirez and the Iledefonsos, with an interval of a +fortnight between the sightings—a cluster of bleak rocks, standing out +of surf and broken water, taking the relentless battery of huge seas +that swept them from base to summit. Once, in clear weather, we marked +a blue ridge of land far to the norrard, and Old Martin and Vootgert +nearly came to blows as to whether it was Cape Horn or the False Cape. +</P> + +<P> +Fighting hard for every inch of our laboured progress, doubling back, +crossing, recrossing (our track on the old blue-back chart was a maze +of lines and figures) we won our way to 70° W., and there, in the +hardest gale of the passage, we were called on for tribute, for one +more to the toll of sailor lives claimed by the rugged southern gateman. +</P> + +<P> +All day the black ragged clouds had swept up from the south-west, the +wind and sea had increased hourly in violence. At dusk we had +shortened sail to topsails and reefed foresail. But the Old Man hung +on to his canvas as the southing wind allowed us to go 'full and by' to +the nor'-west. Hurtling seas swept the decks, tearing stout fittings +from their lashings. The crazy old half-deck seemed about to fetch +loose with every sea that crashed aboard. From stem to stern there was +no shelter from the growing fury of the gale; but still the Old Man +held to his course to make the most of the only proper 'slant' in six +weary weeks. +</P> + +<P> +At midnight the wind was howling slaughter, and stout Old Jock, +dismayed at last at the furious sea upreared against him, was at last +forced to lay her to. In a piping squall of snow and sleet we set to +haul up the foresail. Even the nigger could not find heart to rouse +more than a mournful <I>i—o—ho</I> at the buntlines, as we slowly dragged +the heavy slatting canvas to the yard. Intent on the work, we had no +eye to the weather, and only the Captain and steersman saw the sweep of +a monster sea that bore down on us, white-crested and curling. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand by," yelled the Old Man. "Hang on, for your lives, men! +Christ! Hold hard there!" +</P> + +<P> +Underfoot we felt the ship falter in swing—an ominous check in her +lift to the heaving sea. Then out of the blackness to windward a swift +towering crest reared up—a high wall of moving water, winged with +leagues of tempest at its back. It struck us sheer on the broadside, +and shattered its bulk aboard in a whelming torrent, brimming the decks +with a weight that left no life in the labouring barque. We were swept +to leeward at the first shock, a huddled mass of writhing figures, and +dashed to and fro with the sweep of the sea. Gradually, as the water +cleared, we came by foothold again, sorely bruised and battered. +</P> + +<P> +"Haul away again, men!" The Mate, clearing the blood of a head wound +from his eyes, was again at the foretack giving slack. "Hell! what ye +standing at? Haul away, blast ye! Haul an' rouse her up!" +</P> + +<P> +Half-handed, we strained to raise the thundering canvas; the rest, with +the Second Mate, were labouring at the spare spar, under which Houston, +an ordinary seaman, lay jammed with his thigh broken. Pinching with +handspikes, they got him out and carried aft, and joined us at the +gear; and at last the sail was hauled up. "<I>Aloft and furl</I>," was the +next order, and we sprang to the rigging in time to escape a second +thundering 'grey-beard.' +</P> + +<P> +It was dark, with a black squall making up to windward, as we laid out +on the yard and grappled with the wet and heavy canvas. Once we had +the sail up, but the wind that burst on us tore it from our stiffened +fingers. Near me a grown man cried with the pain of a finger-nail torn +from the flesh. We rested a moment before bending anew to the task. +</P> + +<P> +"Handy now, laads!" the Second Mate at the bunt was roaring down the +wind. "Stick t it, ma herts, ... hold aal, now! ... Damn ye, hold it, +you. Ye haandless sojer! ... Up, m' sons; up an' hold aal." +</P> + +<P> +Cursing the stubborn folds, swaying dizzily on the slippery footropes, +shouting for hold and gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed +monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. A turn of the +gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were +as weak and breathless as ourselves. The squall caught at an open lug, +and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard. +</P> + +<P> +There was a low but distinct cry, "Oh, Christ!" from the quarter, and +M'Innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. For a +moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the +thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to +come off the yard.... "The starboard boat .... Who? ... Duncan ... +It's Duncan gone.... Quick there, the star ... the lashings!" +</P> + +<P> +The Second Mate checked their movement. +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! Back, ye fools! Back, I say! Man canna' help Duncan now!" +</P> + +<P> +He stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his +heavy sea-boot menacingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Back, I say! Back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow +Duncan!" +</P> + +<P> +Slowly we laid out the yard again, and set sullenly to master Duncan's +murderer. +</P> + +<P> +A lull came. We clutched and pounded at the board-like cloths, dug +with hooked fingers to make a crease for handhold, and at last turned +the sail to the yard, though lubberly and ill-furled. +</P> + +<P> +One by one, as our bit was secured, we straggled down the rigging. +Some of the hands were aft on the lee side of the poop, staring into +the darkness astern—where Duncan was. Munro, utterly unmanned, was +crying hysterically. In his father's country manse, he had known +nothing more bitter than the death of a favourite collie. Now he was +at sea, and by his side a man muttered, "Dead?—My God, I hope he's +dead, ... out there!" +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man crossed over from the weather side, and addressing the men, +said: "The Second Mate tells me ye wanted t' get t' th' boat when +M'Innes .... went.... I'm pleased that ye've that much guts in ye, +but I could risk no boat's crew in a sea like this.... Besides, I'm +more-ally certain that M'Innes was dead before he took the water. Eh, +Mister?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye ... dead," said the Mate. "I saw him strike the to'gal'nt rail, +and no man could live after a blow like that. Dead, sure!" +</P> + +<P> +Old Jock returned to his post under the weather-cloth, and the Mate +ordered the watch below. +</P> + +<P> +So Duncan took his discharge, and a few days later, in clearing +weather, his few belongings were sold at the mast. It was known that +he wasn't married, but Welsh John, who knew him best, said he had +spoken of his mother in Skye; and the Old Man kept a few letters and +his watch that he might have something besides his money to send to +Duncan's relatives. +</P> + +<P> +As if Duncan had paid our toll for rounding the storm-scarred Cape, the +weather cleared and winds set fair to us after that last dread night of +storm. Under a press of canvas we put her head to the norrard, and +soon left the Horn and the 'Roaring Forties' astern. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +One night, in the middle watch, when we had nearly run out the +south-east trades, I went forward, looking for someone to talk to, or +anything to relieve the tedium of my two hours on the lee side of the +poop. I found Welsh John sitting on the main-hatch and disposed to +yarn. He had been the most intimate with Duncan, harkening to his +queer tales of the fairies in Knoidart when we others would scoff, and +naturally the talk came round to our lost shipmate. +</P> + +<P> +It was bright moonlight, and the shadow of sails and rigging was cast +over the deck. Near us, in the lee of the house, some sleepers lay +stretched. The Mate stepped drowsily fore and aft the poop, now and +then squinting up at the royals. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what brought Duncan to a windjammer," I said. "He was too +old to be starting the sea, an' there were plenty of jobs on the river +for a well-doin' man like him." +</P> + +<P> +Welsh John spat carefully on the deck, and, after looking round, said, +"Tuncan was here, indeed, because he thought the police would bother +him. He told me he wass in a small steamboat that runs from Loch Fyne +to the Clyde, an' the skipper was a man from Killigan or Kalligan, near +Tuncan's place." +</P> + +<P> +"Kyle-akin," I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"That iss it, Kyle-akin; an' he was very far in drink. They started +from Inverary for the river, and it wass plowin' strong from the +south-east, an' the small boat wass makin' very bad weather, indeed. +The skipper wass very trunk, an' Tuncan, who wass steerin', said they +should put in to shelter for the night. But the skipper wass +quarrelsome, an' called Tuncan a coward an' a nameless man from Skye, +an' they came to plows. Tuncan let go the tiller, an' the small boat +came broadside on, and shipped a big sea, an' when Tuncan got to the +tiller an' put it up, the skipper was gone. They never saw him, so +they came on to the Clyde, where Tuncan left the poat. An' they were +askin' questions from him, an' Tuncan was afraid; but indeed to +goodness he had no need to pe. So he shipped with us—a pier-head jump +it wass...." +</P> + +<P> +A sleeper stirred uneasily, rolled over, and cursed us for a pair of +chatterin' lawyers. +</P> + +<P> +We were both quiet for a moment or two; then the strident voice of the +Mate rang out, "Boy! Boy! Where the hell have you got to now? Lay +aft and trim the binnacle!" +</P> + +<P> +I mounted the poop ladder, muttering the usual excuse about having been +to see the side-lights. I trimmed the lamps, and as it was then a +quarter to four, struck one bell and called the watch. As I waited on +the poop to strike the hour, the men were turning out forward, and I +could hear the voice of the eldest apprentice chiding the laggards in +the half-deck. I thought of Duncan, and of what Welsh John had told me. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye, that was Duncan. That was the way of it. I always wond——" +</P> + +<P> +<I>Cla—clang—Cla—clang—Cla—clang—Cla—clang.</I> +</P> + +<P> +The Mate, anxious to get his head on pillow, had flogged the clock and +had struck eight bells himself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A HOT CARGO +</H4> + +<P> +Shorefolk can have but a hazy idea of all that it means to the +deep-water sailor when at last, after long voyaging, the port of his +destination heaves in sight. For months he has been penned up on +shipboard, the subject of a discipline more strict than that in any way +of life ashore. The food, poor in quality, and of meagre allowance at +the best, has become doubly distasteful to him. The fresh water has +nearly run out, and the red rusty sediment of the tank bottoms has a +nauseating effect and does little to assuage the thirst engendered by +salt rations. Shipmates have told and retold their yarns, discussions +now verge perilously on a turn of fisticuffs. He is wearying of sea +life, is longing for a change, for a break in the monotony of day's +work and watch-keeping, of watch-keeping and day's work. +</P> + +<P> +A welcome reaction comes on the day when he is ordered to put the +harbour gear in readiness. Generally he has only a hazy notion of the +ship's position (it is sea fashion to keep that an Officers' secret), +and the rousing up of the long idle anchor chains and tackle is his +first intimation that the land is near, that any day may now bring the +shore to view, that soon he will be kicking his heels in a sailor-town +tavern, washing off his 'salt casing' with lashings of the right stuff. +</P> + +<P> +This was in part our case when we were a hundred and forty days out +from the Clyde. The food was bad and short allowance; the key of the +pump was strictly guarded, but we had excitement enough and to spare, +for, six days before our 'landfall,' the bo'sun discovered fire in the +fore-hold that had evidently been smouldering for some time, was +deep-seated, and had secured a firm hold. +</P> + +<P> +It was difficult to get at the fire on account of the small hatchway, +and notwithstanding the laboured efforts of all hands, we were at last +obliged to batten the hatches down and to trust to a lucky 'slant' to +put us within hail of assistance. The water which we had so +fruitlessly poured below had all to be pumped out again to get the ship +in sailing trim; and heart-breaking work it was, with the wheezy old +pump sucking every time the ship careened to leeward. Anxiety showed +on all faces, and it was with great relief that, one day at noon, we +watched the Mate nailing a silver dollar to the mizzenmast. The dollar +was his who should first sight the distant shore. +</P> + +<P> +We held a leading wind from the norrard, and when, on the afternoon of +a bright day, we heard the glad shout from the fore-tops'l +yard—"Land-oh"—we put a hustle on our movements, and, light at heart, +found excuse to lay aloft to have a far-away look at God's good earth +again. It was the Farallone Islands we had made—thirty miles west +from the Golden Gate—a good landfall. Dutch John was the lucky man to +see it first, and we gave him a cheer as he laid aft to take the dollar +off the mast. +</P> + +<P> +In the second dog-watch we hung about the decks discussing prospective +doings when we set foot ashore, and those who had been in 'Frisco +before formed centres of inquiry and importance. From the bearing of +the land, we expected orders to check in the yards, but, greatly to our +surprise, the Mate ordered us to the lee fore-brace, and seemed to be +unable to get the yards far enough forrard to please him. When Wee +Laughlin came from the wheel at eight bells, we learned that the ship +was now heading to the nor'east, and away from our port; and the old +hands, with many shakings of the head, maintained that some tricky game +was afoot. The Old Man and the Mate were colloguing earnestly at the +break of the poop; and Jones, who went aft on a pretence of trimming +the binnacle, reported that the Old Man was expressing heated opinions +on the iniquity of salvage. At midnight we squared away, but as we +approached the land the wind fell light and hauled ahead. Wonder of +wonders! This seemed to please the Captain hugely, and his face beamed +like a nor'west moon every time he peered into the compass. +</P> + +<P> +Dawn found us well to the norrard of the islands, and close-hauled, +standing into the land. From break of day all hands were busy getting +the anchors cleared and the cables ranged. Some were engaged painting +out the rusty bits on the starboard top-side. A 'work-up' job they +thought it was until the Mate ordered them to leave the stages hanging +over the water abreast of the fore-hatch. Here the iron plating was +hot, the paint was blistered off, and every time the ship heeled over +there was an unmistakable <I>sssh</I> as the water lapped the heated side. +This, and the smell of hot iron, was all that there was to tell of our +smouldering coal below, but 'Frisco men from the Water Front are sharp +as ferrets, and very little would give them an inkling of the state of +affairs. Presently we raised the land broad on the port bow, and two +of us were perched on the fore-to'gal'nt yard to look out for the pilot +schooner; or, if luck was in our way, a tow-boat. The land became more +distinct as the day wore on, and the bearing of several conspicuous +hills gave the Captain the position he sought. Before noon we reported +smoke ahead, and the Mate, coming aloft with his telescope, made out +the stranger to be a tow-boat, and heading for us. We were called down +from aloft, and the ship was put about. +</P> + +<P> +We were now, for the second time, heading away from our port; and when +the Mate set us to slap the paint on the burned patch, we understood +the Old Man's manoeuvre, which had the object of preventing the +tow-boat from rounding to on our starboard side. Her skipper would +there have assuredly seen evidences of our plight, and would not have +been slow to take advantage of it. +</P> + +<P> +The tug neared us rapidly (they lose no time on the Pacific slope), and +the Captain recognised her as the <I>Active</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"She's one of Spreckel's boats," said he, shutting his glass. "Cutbush +runs her, an' he's a dead wide ane. If he smells a rat, Mister, we'll +be damned lucky if we get into harbour under a couple o' thousand." +</P> + +<P> +We were all excited at the game, though it mattered little to us what +our owners paid, as long as we got out of our hot corner. Straight for +us he came, and when he rounded our stern and lay up on the lee +quarter, the bo'sun voiced the general opinion that the Old Man had +done the trick. +</P> + +<P> +"Morn, Cap.! Guess ye've bin a long time on th' road," sang out the +tow-boat's skipper, eyeing our rusty side and grassy counter. +</P> + +<P> +"Head winds," said the Old Man, "head winds, an' no luck this side o' +th' Horn." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye're a long way to th' norrard, Cap. Bin havin' thick weather +outside?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not what ye might call thick, but musty, these last few days. +We were lookin' to pick up the Farallones." (The unblushing old +Ananias!) +</P> + +<P> +There ensued a conversation about winds and weather, ships and +freights, interspersed with the news of five months back. The talk +went on, and neither seemed inclined to get to business. At last the +tow-boat man broke the ice. +</P> + +<P> +"Wall, Cap., I reckon ye don't want t' stay here all day. Wind's +easterly inside, an' there ain't none too much water on th' bar. Ye'd +better give us yer hawser 'n let's git right along." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! no hurry, Capt'in; there's no hurry. What's a day here or there +when ye'r well over the hundreds? I can lay up to th' pilot ground on +th' next tack.... Ye'll be wantin' a big figure from here, an' my +owners won't stand a long pull." +</P> + +<P> +"Only six hundred, Cap., only six hundred, with your hawser." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man started back in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"Six hundred dollars, Capt'in. Did you say six hundred? Holy smoke! +I don't want t' buy yer boat, Capt'in.... Six hundred—well, I'm +damned. Loose them royals, Mister! Six hundred, no damn fear!" +</P> + +<P> +Quickly we put the royals on her, though they were little use, the wind +having fallen very light. The tow-boat sheered off a bit, and her +skipper watched us sheeting-home, as if it were a most interesting and +uncommon sight. +</P> + +<P> +He gave his wheel a spoke or two and came alongside again. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Cap. Give us yer hawser 'n I'll dock ye for five-fifty!" +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man paid no attention to his request, but paced fore and aft +the weather side, gazing occasionally at the lazy royals, then fixing +the man at the wheel with a reproachful eye. At last he turned to +leeward with a surprised expression, as if astonished to find the +tow-boat still there. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Cap.! Strike it right naow! What d'ye offer? Mind the wind, +as there is ov it, is due east in the Strait." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man thought carefully for quite a time. "Hundred 'n fifty, 'n +your hawser," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The Captain of the <I>Active</I> jammed his telegraph at full speed ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morn', Cap.," he said. "Guess I'll see ye in 'Frisco this side +o' the Noo Year." He forged rapidly ahead, and when clear of the bows +took a long turn to seaward. The Mate took advantage of his being away +and wiped off the paint on the burned patch, which was beginning to +smell abominably. Fresh paint was hurriedly put on, and the stages +were again aboard when the <I>Active</I>, finding nothing to interest her on +the western horizon, returned—again to the lee quarter. +</P> + +<P> +"Saay, Cap., kan't we do a deal; kan't we meet somewhere?" said +Cutbush, conciliatory. "Say five hundred or four-eighty, 'n I'll toss +ye for th' hawser?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do it, Capt'in.... I'd lose my job if I went," (here the Old +Man paused to damn the steersman's eyes, and to tell him to keep her +full) "if I went that length." +</P> + +<P> +The tow-boat again sheered off, and her skipper busied himself with his +telescope. +</P> + +<P> +"Wall, Cap., she may be a smart barque, but I'm darn ef ye can beat her +though the Golden Gate the way th' wind is. Saay! Make it +three-fifty? What the hell's about a fifty dollars. Darn me! I've +blown that in half-hour's poker!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! That's so; but I'm no' takin' a hand in that game. Set the +stays'ls, Mister, 'n get a pull on the fore 'n main sheets!" +</P> + +<P> +We went about the job, and the <I>Active</I> took another turn, this time to +the south'ard. Munro, aloft loosing the staysails, reported a steamer +away under the land. She was sending up a dense smoke, and that caused +the Old Man to account her another tow-boat out seeking. +</P> + +<P> +"That'll fetch him," he said to the Mate, "'n if he offers again I'll +close. Three-fifty's pretty stiff, but we can't complain." +</P> + +<P> +"Egad, no!" said the Mate; "if I'd been you I'd have closed for five +hundred, an' be done with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye, no doubt! no doubt! But ye're not a Scotchman looking after +his owners' interest." +</P> + +<P> +Soon we saw the <I>Active</I> smoking up and coming towards us with 'a bone +in her mouth.' Cutbush had seen the stranger's smoke, and he lost no +time. He seemed to be heading for our starboard side, and we thought +the game was up; but the Old Man kept off imperceptibly, and again the +tug came to port. +</P> + +<P> +"Changed yer mind, Cap.? Guess I must be gwine back. Got t' take the +<I>Drumeltan</I> up t' Port-Costa in th' mornin'. What d'ye say t' three +hundred?" +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man called the Mate, and together they held a serious +consultation, with many looks to windward, aloft, and at the compass. +The stranger was rapidly approaching, and showed herself to be a +yellow-funnelled tow-boat, with a business-like foam about her bows. +Spreckel's man was getting fidgety, as this was one of the opposition +boats, and he expected soon to be quoting a competitive figure. To his +pleased surprise, the Old Man came over to leeward, and, after a last +wrangle about the hawser, took him on at the satisfactory figure of +three hundred dollars. +</P> + +<P> +We put about, and the Mate had another little deal in burned paint. +Courses were hauled up, and the Active came along our starboard side to +pass the towing wire aboard. The paint hid the patch, and in the +manoeuvre of keeping clear of our whisker-booms, the smell escaped +notice, and the marks of our distress were not noticed by her crew. We +hauled the wire aboard and secured the end, and the <I>Active's</I> crew +heard nothing significant in the cheer with which we set about +clewing-up and furling sail. +</P> + +<P> +The afternoon was far spent when we reached the pilot schooner. She +was lying at anchor outside the bar, the wind having died away; and as +she lifted to the swell, showed the graceful underbody of an old-time +'crack.' The pilot boarded us as we towed past. Scarce was he over +the rail before he shouted to the Old Man, "What's the matter, Cap'n? +Guess she looks 's if she had a prutty hot cargo aboard." +</P> + +<P> +"Hot enough, Pilot! Hot enough, b' Goad! We've bin afire forr'ard +these last seven days that we know of, and I'm no' sayin' but that I'm +glad t' see th' beach again." +</P> + +<P> +"Wall, that's bad, Cap'n. That's bad. Ye won't make much this trip, I +guess, when the 'boys' have felt ye over.' He meant when the 'Frisco +sharps had got their pickings, and the Old Man chuckled audibly as he +replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we'll chance that—aye, we'll chance that. It's no' so bad 's if +Cutbush was gettin' his figger." +</P> + +<P> +"What's he gettin', anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's doin' verra well. He's doin' verra well," said the Old Man +evasively. +</P> + +<P> +We were now approaching the far-famed Golden Gate, the talk of mariners +on seven seas. We boys were sent aloft to unrig the chafing gear, and +took advantage of our position and the Mate's occupation to nurse the +job, that we might enjoy the prospect. The blue headland and the +glistening shingle of Drake's Bay to the norrard and the high cliffs of +Benita ahead: the land stretching away south, and the light of the +westing sun on the distant hills. No wonder that when the Mate called +us down from aloft to hand flags there was much of our work left +unfinished. +</P> + +<P> +At Benita Point we had a busy time signalling news of our condition to +the ship's agents at 'Frisco. After we passed through the Narrows, we +had a near view of the wooded slopes of Saucilito, with the +white-painted houses nestling comfortably among the trees. Away to the +right the undulating plains of the Presidio reached out to the purple +haze of the distant city. The Pilot, seeing admiration in our eyes, +couldn't help blowing, even to us boys, and exclaimed aloud on the +greatness of the U-nited States in possessing such a sea-board. +</P> + +<P> +"Saay, boys," he said. "Guess yew ain't got nothin' like this in th' +old country!" +</P> + +<P> +Young Munro, who was the nearest, didn't let the Pilot away with that, +and he mentioned a 'glint of Loch Fyre, when the sun was in the +west'ard.' "And that's only one place I'm speakin' of." +</P> + +<P> +The sun was low behind us as we neared the anchorage, and a light haze +softened and made even more beautiful the outlines of the stately City. +As we looked on the shore, no one had mind of the long dreary voyage. +That was past and done. We had thought only for the City of the West +that lay before us, the dream of many long weary nights. +</P> + +<P> +But, as I gazed and turned away, I was sharply minded of what the sea +held for us. Houston had been carried on deck, "t' see th' sichts," as +he said. His stretcher stood near me, and the sight of his wan face +brought up the memory of bitter times 'off the Horn.' Of the black +night when we lost Duncan! Of the day when Houston lay on the cabin +floor, and the master-surgeon and his rude assistants buckled to 'the +job'! Of the screams of the tortured lad—"Let me alane! Oh, Christ! +Let me al——" till kindly Mother Nature did what we had no means to +do! ... "Man, but it was a tough job, with her rolling and pitching in +the track o' th' gale!" The Old Man was telling the Pilot about it. +"But there he is, noo! As sound as ye like ... a bit weak, mebbe, but +sound! ... We'll send him t' th' hospital, when we get settled +down.... No' that they could dae mair than I've dune." Here a smile +of worthy pride. "But a ship 's no' the place for scienteefic +measures—stretchin', an' rubbin', an' that.... Oh, yes! Straight? +I'll bate ye he walks as straight as a serjunt before we're ready for +sea again!" +</P> + +<P> +As we drew on to the anchorage, a large raft-like vessel with barges in +tow made out to meet us. The Old Man turned his glasses on her and +gave an exclamation of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Meyer's been damn smart in sending out the fire-float," he said to the +Mate, adding, "Get the foreyard cock-billed, Mister; and a burton +rigged to heave out the cargo as soon 's we anchor. There's the +tow-boat whistlin' for ye to shorten in th' hawser. Bear a hand, mind +ye, for we've a tough night's work before us." +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +But all was not pleasant anticipation aboard of the screw tug <I>Active</I>, +towing gallantly ahead, for Captain John Cutbush had discovered his +loss, and the world wasn't big enough for his indictment of Fortune. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen our flags off Benita, but had not troubled to read the +message, as he saw the answering pennant flying from the Lighthouse. +In scanning the anchorage for a convenient berth to swing his tow in, +the fire-float caught his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello! somethin' afire in th' Bay!" He turned his glasses among the +shipping, in search of a commotion, but all was quiet among the tall +ships. +</P> + +<P> +"But where's she lyin'-to fer? There ain't nothin' this side ov +Alcatraz, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +Then a dread suspicion crossed his mind, that made him jump for the +signal-book. He remembered the flags of our last hoist, and feverishly +turned them up. +</P> + +<P> +"Arrange—assistance—-for—arrival." +</P> + +<P> +Muttering oaths, he dropped the book and focussed his glasses on the +tow. The track of the fire was patent to the world now, and we were +unbending the sails from the yards above the fore-hatch. +</P> + +<P> +"She's afire right 'nuff, 'n I never cottoned. Roast me for a ——. +'N that's what the downy old thief was standin' t' th' norrard for, 'n +I never cottoned! 'N that's what he took me on at three hundred for, +'n Meyer's boat almost along-side. Three —— hundred 'n my —— +hawser. Waal—I'm—damned! The old limejuice pirate! Guess I should +'a known him for a bloody sharp when I saw Glasgow on her stern." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped cursing, to blow his whistle—a signal for us to shorten in +the towing hawser. In the ensuing manoeuvres he was able to relieve +his feelings by criticising our seamanship; he swung us round with a +vicious sheer, eased up, and watched our anchor tumbling from the bows. +He gazed despairingly at his Mate, who was steering. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a ruddy mess, Gee-orge," he said. "Three thousan' dollars +clean thrown away. What'll the boss say. What'll they say on th' +Front?" +</P> + +<P> +George cursed volubly, and expended much valuable tobacco juice. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a boomer fer th' 'Examiner,' Geeorge; here's a sweet headline +fer th' 'Call'! +</P> + +<P> +"'Cutbush done!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Cap'n Jan Cutbush done in th' eye!!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Cap'n Jan S. Cutbush, th' smartest skipper on th' Front, done in the +bloody eye by a bargoo-eatin' son ef a gun ef a grey-headed +limejuicer!!!'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WORK! +</H4> + +<P> +Scarcely was our anchor down in 'Frisco Bay than the boarding-house +'crimps' were alongside, beaming with good-fellowship, and tumbling +over one another in their anxiety to shake 'Jack' by the hand, and to +tell him of the glorious openings and opportunities for smart sailormen +ashore. The Mate vainly endeavoured to prevent them boarding the ship, +but with the ordinary harassing duties incident on arrival, and the +extraordinary matter of a serious fire in the hold, he could not do +everything; so the 'crimps' installed themselves in the fo'cas'le, and +the grog (Welcome-home Brand) was flowing far and free. +</P> + +<P> +The starboard watch were aloft furling the tops'ls, and only the +presence of the Captain and Mates at the foot of the rigging kept them +from joining the hilarious crowd in the fo'cas'le. The Mate's watch +had been employed at the ground tackle, and had dodged in and out of +the fo'cas'le; so that, in a very short time, they were all 'three +sheets in the wind,' and making for trouble. Vootgert, the Belgian, +was the first to fall foul of the Mate, and that sorely-tried Officer +could hardly be blamed for using all four limbs on the offending +'squarehead.' Seeing their shipmate thus handled, the watch would have +raised a general mêlée, but the boarding-house 'crimps,' having no +liking for police interference, succeeded in calming the valiant ones +by further draughts of their fiery panacea. To us boys (who had heard +great tales of revolvers and other weapons being freely used by ship +captains in preventing their men from being 'got at') these mutinous +ongoings were a matter of great wonderment; but, later, we learned that +freights were low, and we were likely to be many months in 'Frisco; +that crews' wages and victualling, when the ship is earning no money, +reflect on the professional character of an old-time shipmaster, and +that to baulk the 'crimps' on arrival means an expensive delay in +making up a crew when the ship is again ready for sea. +</P> + +<P> +Wee Laughlin and the nigger were the first to yield to the eloquence of +their visitors. No one was surprised that the Mate let Laughlin clear +without interference. A poor sailor, though a lot had been licked into +him since he left the 'Poort,' he was not worth keeping. His kind +could be picked up on the Water Front any day. He had come on board at +Greenock—a pierhead jump, with his wardrobe on his back and a +'hauf-mutchkin' of very inferior whisky in his pocket. Now, to our +astonishment, he threw a well-filled bag over the side before he slid +down the rope into the 'crimp's' boat. Long intending to desert when +we arrived, he had taken as much of his pay in clothes and slop-chest +gear as the Old Man would allow. It was said, too, that a lot of poor +Duncan's clothes never came to auction, and more than one suspected Wee +Laughlin of a run through Duncan's bag before the Old Niven got forward +and claimed what was left. +</P> + +<P> +That well-filled bag! +</P> + +<P> +To the Second Mate, who was eyeing his departure, he flung a +salutation, first seeing that his line of retreat was clear. "Weel, so +long, Mister, ye Hielan' ——, ye can pit ma fower pun ten i' yer e'e +'n ca' yersel' a bloody banker!" +</P> + +<P> +No one saw the nigger go, but gone he was, bag and baggage; and loud +were the curses of the cook, to whom he owed four pounds of tobacco for +losses at crib. +</P> + +<P> +While all this was going on, and the 'crimps' were marking down their +prey, the crew of the fire-float had located the fire and cut a hole in +the 'tween-decks above the hottest part. Through this a big ten-inch +hose was passed, and soon the rhythmic <I>clank-clank</I> of their pump +brought 'Frisco Bay to our assistance. +</P> + +<P> +Darkness fell on a scene of uproar. Everything was at sixes and sevens +forward, and the discipline of five months was set at naught. Drunken +men tumbled over the big hose and slippery decks, and got in the +firemen's way; steam enveloped the decks as in a fog; dim figures of +men struggled and quarrelled; curses and hoarse shouts came from the +fo'cas'le, whence the hands were being driven by the rising smoke and +steam; rushing figures transferred their few belongings to safer +quarters; and through all throbbed the steady <I>clank-clank</I> of the +fire-engine. +</P> + +<P> +A strange contrast to the quiet and peaceful scene about us—with a low +moon over San Rafael, and the lights of the shipping reflected in the +placid water. A few fishing-boats were drifting out on the tide, with +creak of oar and rowlock; and above all was the glare of the lighted +streets and harbour lights of the great city. +</P> + +<P> +Not long had we to contrast the scenes, for the Mate, and the Old Man +himself, were at our backs, man-driving the few sober hands, to make up +for their inability to handle the skulkers. They did not spare +themselves in driving, and at salving the gear in the lamp-room the +Captain made a weird picture, black and grimy, with a cloth over his +mouth, passing the lamps out to the boys. +</P> + +<P> +With such a volume of water pouring below, it was necessary to get a +pump in position to keep our craft afloat. She was now far down by the +head and had a heavy list, and as the ship's pumps would not draw, the +Firemaster arranged to put one of his pumps into the fore-peak. To +make this efficient, we had to raise the sluice in the forrard +bulkhead; and even the Old Man looked anxious when the Carpenter +reported that the sluice was jammed, and that the screw had broken in +his hands. The stream of water into the hold was immediately stopped, +and all available hands (few enough we were) were put to clearing the +fore-peak, that the sluice could be got at. In this compartment all +the ship's spare gear and bos'un's stores were kept, and the lower hold +held ten tons of the ship's coal. The small hatchway made despatch +impossible, and the want of a winch was keenly felt. It was +back-breaking work, hauling up the heavy blocks, the cordage, sails and +tarpaulins, chains, kegs and coils, and dragging them out on deck. A +suffocating atmosphere and foul gases below showed that the seat of the +fire was not far off, and often the workers were dragged up in a +semi-conscious state. The Mate was the first to go down, and he hung +out till nature rebelled, and he was dragged up and put in the open +air. There the aggrieved Belgian saw him, and, maddened by drink, took +advantage of his exhaustion to kick him viciously in the ribs; but +Jones promptly laid the Dutchman out with a hand-spike. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment the drink, discontent, excitement, and overwork found vent +in furious riot: shipmates of five months' standing, comrades in fair +weather and foul, were at each other's throats, and amid the smoke and +steam no man could name his enemy. Welsh John, in trying to get young +Munro out of harm's way, was knocked down the open hatch, and he lay, +groaning, with a broken arm, amid the steam and stench. Hicks, the +bo'sun, was stabbed in the cheek, and someone knocking the lamps over, +added darkness to the vicious conflict. Blind and blaspheming, animals +all, we fought our way to the doors, and the malcontents, in ill plight +themselves, cared little to follow us. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the Firemaster, seeing how matters stood, called his men +together and turned a hose into the fo'cas'le. The thin, vicious +stream proved too much for the mutineers, and we were soon in +possession again. John was taken up from the fore-peak (he was far +through) and carried aft. The mutineers, such as were fit, were put +down below to dig coals till they could dig no more; and again the work +went on—weary, body-racking work. +</P> + +<P> +With aching eyes and every muscle in revolt, we toiled on in silence, +not even a curse among us. Silence, broken only by the rattle of the +block-sheave, as the baskets of coal were hove up and emptied. There +was now no need for the Old Man to hold himself in readiness, with +something in his pocket that bulged prominently, for there was not an +ounce of fight left in the crowd, and 'Smith and Wessons' are +ill-fitting things to carry about. Two hours we had of this, and give +in was very near when the welcome news came up that they had got at the +sluice, that the water was trickling through. Soon after, the sluice +was prised up, and the pent-up water rushed into the peak. The +Firemaster passed his pipe below, and again the pumps were set agoing. +</P> + +<P> +We staggered out into the fresh morning air, red-eyed and ragged, and a +madhouse gang we looked in the half-light of an early Californian dawn. +Faces haggard and blackened by the smoke, eyes dazed and bloodshot, and +on nearly everyone evidence of the ten minutes' sanguinary encounter in +bruised eyes and bloody faces. The Mate called a muster to serve out +grog, and of our crew of twenty-seven hands only fifteen answered the +call. The Old Man tried to make a few remarks to the men. He had been +frequently to the bottle through the night, for his speech was thick +and his periods uncertain. +</P> + +<P> +"No bloody nozzush, b' Goad ... tan' no nozzush, Mis'r——" was about +the burden of his lay. +</P> + +<P> +With a modest glass of strong rum to raise our spirits momentarily, we +lingered before going below to note the wreck and confusion that our +once trim barque was now in. She was still down by the head, and +listed at an awkward angle. The decks were littered with gear and +stores, muddy and dirty as a city street on a day of rain. Aloft, the +ill-furled tops'ls hung bunched below the yards, with lazy gaskets +streaming idly in mid-air; and the yards, 'lifted' at all angles, gave +a lubberly touch to our distressed appearance. The riding-light, still +burning brightly on the forestay, though the sun was now above the +horizon, showed that we had lost all regard for routine. +</P> + +<P> +A damp mist, the 'pride o' the morning,' was creeping in from seaward, +and the siren at the Golden Gate emitted a mournful wail at intervals. +Near us, at the anchorage, a big black barque, loaded and in sea-trim, +was getting under weigh, and the haunting strain of 'Shenandoah,' most +beautiful of sea-chanteys, timed by the musical <I>clank</I> of the windlass +pawls, was borne on the wind to us. +</P> + +<P> +"An outward-bounder, and a blue-nose at that," said Martin. +</P> + +<P> +We wondered if Wee Laughlin was already in her fo'cas'le, with a +skinful of drugged liquor to reckon with. The 'crimps' lose no time if +they can get their man under, and Wee Laughlin, by his own glory of it, +was a famous swallower. +</P> + +<P> +In the half-deck, some of the boys were already turned in, and lying in +uneasy attitudes, with only their boots and jackets off. Jones, who +had been severely handled in the scrimmage, was moaning fitfully in his +sleep, his head swathed in bloody bandages, and the pallor showing in +his face through the grime and coal-dust. Hansen was the last man in. +He threw himself wearily down on the sea-chests, now all of a heap to +leeward, snatched a pillow from under Munro's head, and composed +himself to rest. +</P> + +<P> +"Mate says I'm to keep watch, 'n call him at eight bells; but, judgin' +by th' way he put the grog down, I'm damn sure he'll stir tack nor +sheet till midday.... Firemaster says she's under hand, 'n he'll have +the fire out in two hours, 'n she can bally well look out for +herself.... T' hell with an anchor watch; I can't keep my eyes open, +an' 'll work ... work ... no m——" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +IN 'FRISCO TOWN +</H4> + +<P> +We moored at Mission Wharf to discharge what cargo the fire had spared, +and there we made a lubberly picture, outcast among so many trim ships. +The firemen had done their duty and had left us to do ours, and we had +to work our hardest to put the ship in order again. A firm of +shipwrights were employed to repair the damage—the twisted stanchions, +buckled beams, burnt decks, worthless pumps, and hold fittings. Old +Jock was not a Scotchman for nothing, and to make their contract +profitable, the 'wrights did nothing that they could wriggle out of. +So we had extra work to do—their work—and from daylight to dark were +kept hard at it, man-driven as only our hardcase Mate could drive. It +was no wonder that we were in a state of discontent. Here we were, +after a long, hard voyage, working our 'soul-case' to shreds! And +there—just across the wharf—were the lights of Market Street, that +seemed to beckon us to come ashore! There were angry mutterings, and +only a wholesome fear of the Mate's big hands kept us at the task. +</P> + +<P> +With the men forward it was even worse. The word had gone out that no +money would be advanced until the cargo was discharged and the ship put +to rights. No money—not even the price of a 'schooner'! And the +ghost of nigh six months, salt beef waiting to be 'laid!' +</P> + +<P> +Their state of mind was soon observed by the boarding-masters. Whalers +were in the Bay, fitted out and ready for sea, and only a lack of +sailormen kept them within the Golden Gate. To get these men—the +blood-money for their shipment, rather—was the business of the +'crimps,' who showed a wealth of imagination in describing the various +topping shore jobs that they held at their disposal. Now it was a +'mine manager' they were looking for in our forecastle; to-morrow it +would be a fruit salesman they wanted! They secured smiling Dutch John +as a decoy, and set him up behind the bar of a Water Front saloon. +There, when work was over for the day, his former shipmates +foregathered, and John (fairly sober, considering) put up free drinks +and expanded on the goodness of a long-shore life. +</P> + +<P> +"Vat jou boysh stop <I>mit der</I> ship on? Jou tinks dere vas no yobs on +shore? De boardin'-master damn lie, eh? ... Ah vas get me four +dollars a day; <I>und der</I> boss, ven 'e see me de glasses break, say me +nodings! Ah goes from <I>der haus, und</I> comes to <I>der haus in—und</I> 'e +say nod like <I>der</I> Mate, 'Vat jou do dere, <I>verdamt shwine</I>? Was <I>für</I> +jou no go on mit jour vark?' ... <I>'ttverdam</I>! It vas <I>der</I> life, +<I>mein</I> boysh! It vas <I>der</I> life!" +</P> + +<P> +Against such a pronouncement from their whilom shipmate, and with the +plain evidence of his prosperity before their eyes, it was useless to +argue. Here was John able to stand free drinks all round, and the +saloon boss 'standin' by' and smiling pleasantly. Didn't John say, +"Here, boss, jou gif me a light for <I>mein</I> cigar!" and the owner of the +place handed out his silver box instanter? John! A 'Dutchman,' +too,—not even the best sailorman of the 'crowd'! ... ("Here, boss, +what was that job ye was talkin' about? I <I>guess</I> there ain't nuthin' +I can't do w'en I sets my 'ead to it!") Soon the 'crimps,' ever ready +at hand, were off to the ship, hot-foot, for bags and baggage! +</P> + +<P> +Those who still held by the ship were visited at all hours, and the +comings and goings of the tempters were not even checked by the Mate. +The dinner hour was the most opportune time for them, for then they had +the miserable meal to point to in scorn. +</P> + +<P> +"Call yewrselves min," they said, "a sittin' hyar at yer lobscouse an' +dawg biscuits, an' forty dallars a month jest waitin' t' be picked up? +... Forty dallars ... an' no more graft 'n a boy kin dew! Darn it, I +wouldn't give that mess to me dawg! ... A fine lot yees are, fer sure! +Ain't got no heart t' strike aout f'r decent grub 'n a soft job.... +Forty dallars, I guess! ... Is thar a 'man' among ye? ... Chip in +yewr dunnage an' step ashore, me bucks! A soft job in a free country, +an' no damn lime juice Mate t' sweat ye araound!" +</P> + +<P> +The 'spell worked'! Within a fortnight of our arrival most of the men +who had signed with us had, '<I>Deserted. Left no effects</I>,' entered +against their names in our official Log. Soon the whalers were at sea, +standing to the north, and Dutch John shorn of his proud position, was +shipped as cook on a hard-case New Yorker! +</P> + +<P> +The bos'un and Old Martin were still with us, and we had Welsh John and +Houston safe in the hospital—about the only place in 'Frisco where no +healthy 'crimp' could gain admission. For want of better game, +perhaps, the boarding-masters paid some attention to the half-deck, but +we had, in the Chaplain of the British Seamen's Institute, a muscular +mentor to guide us aright. From the first he had won our hearts by his +ability to put Browne (our fancy man) under the ropes in three rounds. +It was said that, in the absence of a better argument, he was able and +willing to turn his sleeves up to the stiffest 'crimp' on the Front. +Be that as it may, there was no doubt about his influence with +brassbounders in the port. Desertions among us—that had formerly been +frequent—were rare enough when James Fell came, swinging his stick, to +see what was doing on the Front! +</P> + +<P> +With the crew gone, we found matters improved with us. The Mate, +having no 'crowd' to rush around, was inclined to take things easy, +and, when sober, was quite decent. Although but a few weeks in the +country, we were now imbued with the spirit of freedom; learned to +'guess' and 'reckon'; called Tuesday 'Toosday'; and said "No, sir-rr!" +when emphatic denial was called for. Eccles even tried the democratic +experiment of omitting his "sir" when answering the Mate. Disastrous +result! +</P> + +<P> +Seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed like +longshore labourers on the ship's hull. The rust and barnacles of our +outward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more than +enough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patent +compositions. One day Burke discovered his elder brother's name +painted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride of +the painter's position, 'Captain of a big tramp steamer,' we were +consoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill as +others had done before us. When the painting was finished we had the +satisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of the +many tall ships that lined the wharves. +</P> + +<P> +At night, when work was over, we had the freedom of the City. It was +good to be on the beach again. Money was scarce with us, and in a +place where five cents is the smallest currency, we found our little +stock go fast, if not far. If luxuries were beyond our reach, at least +the lighted streets were ours, and it was with a delightful sense of +freedom from ship discipline that we sauntered from 'sailor-town' to +'China-town,' or through the giant thoroughfares that span the heart of +the City itself. Everything was new, and fine, and strange. The +simple street happenings, the busy life and movements, the glare and +gaudery of the lights, were as curious to us as if we had never landed +before. +</P> + +<P> +'Sailor-town'—the Water Front, was first beyond the gangway. Here +were the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' and +shoddy shops. The boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess of +an old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned their +doorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. On occasions they +would invite us in—"Come right in, boyees, an' drink the health o' th' +haouse," was the word of it—but we had heard of the <I>Shanghai +Passage</I>, and were chary of their advances. Often our evident distrust +was received with boisterous laughter. "Saay," they would shout. +"<I>Yew</I> needn't shy, me sucking bloody Nelsons! It's little use <I>yew</I> +'ud be aboard a packet!" ... "Light—the—binnacle, bo—oy!" was +another salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a lady +at an upper window, and there would be a sailorman there—out of sight, +as prompters properly are. +</P> + +<P> +At the clothing shop doors, the Jews were ever on the alert for custom. +A cheap way of entertainment was to linger for a moment at their +windows, pointing and admiring. Isaac would be at us in a moment, +feeling the texture of our jackets with his bony fingers and calling on +the whole street to witness that it was "a biece 'f damn good shduff!" +Then it would be, "Gome into de shop, Misdur! I guess I god de tingsh +you vannt!" +</P> + +<P> +After we had spent a time examining and pricing his scent-bottles and +spring garters, and hand-painted braces and flowered velvet slippers +and 'Green River' sheath-knives, we thought it but right to tell him +that Levy Eckstein of Montgomery Street was our man; that our Captain +would pay no bills for us but his! +</P> + +<P> +With Levy our business was purely financial; cent, per cent, +transactions in hard cash. He had contracted with the Old Man to +supply us with clothing, but, though our bills specified an outfit of +substantial dry goods, we were always able to carry away the parcels in +our smallest waistcoat pocket. "One dollar for two," was Levy's motto. +If his terms were hard, his money was good, and, excepting for the Old +Man's grudging advances, we had no other way of 'raising the wind.' +</P> + +<P> +In 'China-town' we found much to astonish us. We could readily fancy +ourselves in far Cathay. There was nothing in the narrow streets and +fancily carved house fronts to suggest an important City in the States. +Quaint shop signs and curious swinging lanterns; weird music and noises +in the 'theatres'; uncanny smells from the eating-houses; the cat-like +sound of China talk—all jumbled together in a corner of the most +western city of the West! +</P> + +<P> +The artisans in their little shops, working away far into the night, +interested us the most, and some of our little money went to purchase +small wares for the home folks. It was here that Munro bought that +long 'back-scratcher'; the one he took home to his father! +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes, when we could induce our Burke to make up to one of his +compatriots (the blue-coated, six-foot Fenians who keep 'Frisco under +martial law), we saw something of the real, the underground China-town. +It was supposed to be a hazardous excursion, but, beyond treading the +dark, forbidding alleys, haunts of 'Li-Johns' and 'Highbinders,' we had +no sight of the sensational scenes that others told us of. We saw +opium dens, and were surprised at the appearance of the smokers. +Instead of the wasted and debauched beings, of whom we had read, we +found stout Johns and lean Johns, lively Johns and somnolent Johns, +busy and idle—but all looking as if they regarded life as a huge joke. +</P> + +<P> +They laughed amiably at our open mouths, and made remarks to us. +These, of course, we were unable to understand, but at least we could +grin, and that seemed to be the answer expected. When our guide took +us to free air again, and we found ourselves far from where we had +entered, we could readily 'take it from Michael' that the underground +passages offered harbour to all the queer fellows of the City. With +the night drawing on, and a reminder in our limbs that we had done a +hard day's work, we would go to Clark's, in Kearney, a coffee-house +famed among brassbounders. There we would refresh and exchange ship +news with 'men' from other ships. Clark himself—a kindly person with +a hint of the Doric amidst his 'Amurricanisms'—was always open to +reason in the middle of the week, and we never heard that he had lost +much by his 'accommodations.' +</P> + +<P> +When we returned to the streets, the exodus from the theatres would be +streaming towards cars and ferry. It was time we were on board again. +Often there would be a crowd of us bound for the wharves. It was a +custom to tramp through 'sailor-town' together. On the way we would +cheer the 'crimps' up by a stave or two of 'Mariners of England.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S' +</H4> + +<P> +In the half-deck differences, sometimes leading to fisticuffs, were of +daily occurrence; but, considering that we were boys, drawn from all +parts, each with his town or county's claim to urge, we dwelt very +happily together. Though our barque was Scotch, we were only two +strong, and at times it was very difficult to keep our end up, and +impress our Southron shipmates with a proper sense of our national +importance. The voice of reason was not always pacific, and on these +occasions we could but do our best. Our Jones (of Yorkshire) was of a +quarrelsome nature; most of our bickers were of his seeking, and to him +our strained relations with the 'Torreador's' was mainly due. +</P> + +<P> +The <I>Torreador</I> had berthed next to us at Mission Wharf, and by the +unwritten laws of the sea and the customs of the port of San Francisco, +her crew should have fraternised with us; from the mates (who could +exchange views on the sizes of rope and the chances of promotion) down +to the younger apprentices (who should have visited one another to +'swap' ship's biscuit). With other ships matters might have been +arranged, but the <I>Torreador</I> was a crack ship, and flew the blue +ensign, even on week-days; her captain was an F.R.A.S., and her boys +(whose parents paid heavy premiums for the glitter) wore brass buttons +to everyday work, and were rated as midshipmen, no less! The day after +her arrival some of them were leaning over the rail looking at our +barque, and acquaintance might have been made then and there, but Jones +(who fancied himself a wit) spoiled the chances of an understanding by +asking them if the stewardess had aired their socks properly that +morning. Such a question aroused great indignation, and for over a +fortnight we were 'low bounders,' and they 'kid-glove sailors.' +</P> + +<P> +Matters went ill between us, and our ships were too close together to +ignore one another altogether. The 'Torreador's' contented themselves +with looking smarter and more aggressively clean than ever, and with +casting supercilious glances all over us when they saw us chipping and +scraping the rust off our vessel's topside—(they never got such jobs +to do, as their Old Man was too busy cramming them up with "Sumners" +and "Deviation Curves"). We replied by making stage asides to one +another on the methods of 'coddling sickly sailors,' and Jones even +went the length of arraying himself in a huge paper collar when he was +put over-side to paint ship. A brilliant idea, he thought it, until +the Mate noticed him, and made his ears tingle till sundown. +</P> + +<P> +The 'Torreador's' kept a gangway watch, and one of his duties seemed to +be to cross the deck at intervals and inspect our barque, crew, and +equipment in a lofty manner. He would even (if his Mate—the Chief +Officer, they called him—wasn't looking) put his hands in his beckets +and his tongue in his cheek. At first we greeted his appearance with +exaggerated respect; we would stand to attention and salute him in +style; but latterly, his frequent appearances (particularly as he +always seemed to be there when our Mate was recounting our misdeeds, +and explaining what lazy, loafing, ignorant, and 'sodgering' creatures +he had to handle) got on our nerves. +</P> + +<P> +Matters went on in this way for over a week, and everybody was getting +tired of it; not only on our ship, for one day we caught a 'Torreador' +openly admiring our collection of sharks' tails which we had nailed to +the jib-boom. When he found himself observed he blushed and went about +some business, before we had a chance to ask him aboard to see the +sharks' backbones—fashioned into fearsome walking-sticks. Up town we +met them occasionally, but no one seemed inclined to talk, and a +'barley' was as far away as ever. If we went to the Institute they +were to be seen lolling all over the sofas in the billiard-room, +smoking cigarettes, when, as everyone knows, a briar pipe is the only +thing that goes decently with a brass-bound cap, tilted at the right +angle. They did not seem to make many friends, and their talk among +themselves was of matters that most apprentices ignore. One night +Jones heard them rotting about 'Great Circle sailing,' and 'ice to the +south'ard of the Horn,' and subjects like that, when, properly, they +ought to be criticising their Old Man, and saying what an utter duffer +of a Second Mate they had. Jones was wonderfully indignant at such +talk, and couldn't sleep at night for thinking of all the fine +sarcastic remarks he might have made, if he had thought of them at the +time. +</P> + +<P> +When our barque, by discharge of cargo, was risen in the water, we were +put to send the royal-yards down on deck, and took it as a great relief +from our unsailorly harbour jobs. The 'Torreador's,' with envious +eyes, watched us reeving off the yard ropes. They had a Naval Reserve +crew aboard to do these things, and their seamanship was mostly with a +model mast in the half-deck. They followed all the operations with +interest, and when Hansen and Eccles got the main royal yard on deck, +in record time, they looked sorry that they weren't at the doing. +</P> + +<P> +"Sumners" and "Deviation Curves" are all very well in their way, but a +seamanlike job aloft, on a bright morning, is something stirring to +begin the day with. A clear head to find one's way, and a sharp hand +to unbend the gear and get the yard canted for lowering; then, with a +glance at the fore (where fumblers are in difficulties with their +lifts), the prideful hail to the deck, "All clear, aloft! Lower away!" +</P> + +<P> +No wonder the 'Torreador's' were not satisfied with their model mast! +</P> + +<P> +Some days later we got another chance to show them how things were done +aloft, and even if we were not so smart at it as we might have been, +still it was a fairly creditable operation for some boys and a +sailorman. Our main topgal'nmast was found to be 'sprung' at the heel, +and one fine morning we turned-to to send the yard and mast down. This +was rather a big job for us who had never handled but royal-yards +before; but under the able instructions of the Mate and Bo'sun, we did +our work without any serious digression from the standards of +seamanship. The Mate wondered what was making us so uncommon smart and +attentive, but when he caught sight of the 'Torreador's' watching our +operations with eager eyes, he understood, and even spurred us on by +shouting, "<I>Mister!</I>" (the boys of the <I>Torreador</I> were thus addressed +by their Officers) "<I>Mister</I> Hansen, please lay out 'n the topsl-yard, +'n unhook that bloody brace!" +</P> + +<P> +At dusk the 'Torreador's' had stiff necks with looking aloft so much, +and when we knocked off, with the yard and mast on deck, and the gear +stopped-up, they went below and hid their elaborate model mast under a +bunk in the half-deck. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after this a better feeling began. Eccles met one of the +'Torreador's' up-town, and an acquaintance was made. They spent the +evening together, and he learned that the other chap came from near his +place. [It was really about fifty miles from there, but what's a fifty +miles when one is fourteen thousand miles from home?] The next evening +two of them came across. "To see the ship," they said. They brought +briar pipes with them, which was rather more than we could reasonably +have expected. Thereafter nightly visits were the rule, and we became +as thick as thieves. We took them to our bosom, and told them of many +fresh ways to rob the store-room, though they had no need to go +plundering, theirs being a well-found ship. We even went the length of +elaborating a concerted and, as we afterwards found, unworkable scheme +to get even with a certain policeman who had caught our Munro a clip on +the arm with his club when that youngster was singing "Rule Britannia" +along the Water Front at half-past midnight. In the evenings our +respective commanders could be seen leaning across their poop rails, +engaged in genial conversation, addressing one another as "Captain" in +the middle of each sentence with true nautical punctiliousness. +</P> + +<P> +Once the 'Torreador's' Old Man seemed to be propounding his views on +the training of apprentices with great earnestness. What he said we +could not hear, but our Old Man replied that he had work enough "—— +to get the young 'sodgers' to learn to splice a rope, cross a +royal-yard, and steer the ship decently, let alone the trouble of +keeping them out of the store-room," and that he'd "—— nae doot but +they'd learn navigation —— in guid time!" +</P> + +<P> +The elder boys went picnicing on the Sundays to Cliff House or +Saucilito; the second voyagers played team billiards together at the +Institute, and proposed one another to sing at the impromptu concerts; +while the young ones—those who had only been a dog-watch at sea—made +themselves sick smoking black tobacco and talking 'ship-talk' in the +half-deck. +</P> + +<P> +Thus we fraternised in earnest, and when the <I>Torreador</I> left for Port +Costa to load for home we bent our best ensign (though it was on a +week-day), and cheered her out of the berth. +</P> + +<P> +Next week a Norwegian barque took up her vacant place. She had come +out from Swansea in ninety-eight days, and was an object of interest +for a while. Soon, though, we grew tired of the daily hammering of +'stock-fish' before breakfast, and the sight of her Mate starting the +windmill pump when the afternoon breeze came away. We longed for the +time when we, too, would tow up to Port Costa, for we had a little +matter of a race for ship's gigs to settle with the 'Torreador's' and +were only waiting for our Captains to take it up and put silk hats on +the issue. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE 'CONVALESCENT' +</H4> + +<P> +Welsh John was discharged from hospital at ten on a Sunday morning; +before dark he was locked up, charged with riotous behaviour and the +assaulting of one Hans Maartens, a Water Front saloon keeper. A matter +of strong drink, a weak head, and a maudlin argument, we thought; but +Hansen saw the hand of the 'crimps' in the affair, and when we heard +that sailormen were scarce (no ships having arrived within a +fortnight), we felt sure that they were counting on John's blood-money +from an outward-bound New Yorker. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye see, John hadn't money enough t' get drunk on," he said. "We saw +him in hospital last Sunday, an' Munro gave him a 'half' to pay his +cars down t' th' ship when he came out. Half-dollars don't go far in +'sailor-town.' I guess these sharks have bin primin' him up t' get 'm +shipped down th' Bay. The <I>J. B. Grace</I> has been lyin' at anchor off +The Presidio, with her 'Blue Peter' up this last week or more, an' +nobody 's allowed aboard 'r ashore but Daly an' his gang. Maartens is +in with 'em, an' the whole thing 's a plant to shanghai John. Drunk or +no' drunk, John 's seen th' game, an' plugged th' Dutchman for a start." +</P> + +<P> +As it was on Munro's account that he had come by the injuries that put +him in hospital, we felt more than a passing interest in John's case, +and decided to get him clear of the 'crimps' if we could. We knew he +would be fined, for saloon-keepers and boarding-masters are persons of +weight and influence in 'Frisco town, and, although John had nearly +eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort +of confession of Jack's importance, for the Captain to disburse on his +account. It being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few +dollars among us, so we applied to James Peden, a man of substance on +the Front, for assistance and advice. +</P> + +<P> +James was from Dundee. After a varied career as seaman, whaleman, +boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he +had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of +stevedores. He was an office-bearer of the local Scottish Society, +talked braid Scots on occasions (though his command of Yankee slang +when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a +tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans. +</P> + +<P> +To James we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his +'boy-ees made things hum.' It was rather a delicate matter to do this +properly, as we had to leave it to inference that James's knowledge of +these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that +of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business +were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of +shady doings. It was nicely done, though, and James, recalling a +parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic. +</P> + +<P> +"Weel, lauds, Ah guess Joan Welsh 'r Welsh Joan 'll be ootward bound +afore the morn's nicht. They'll pit 'm up afore Judge Kelly, a bluidy +Fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a +British sailorman alane. Pluggin' a Dutchman 's naethin'; it's th' +'Rid Rag' that Kelly's doon oan. Ah ken the swine; he touched me +twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug—an ill-faured +Dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. Ah guess there's nae chance for a +lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. Noo, +withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer Captain 's no' +gaun tae pey 't. Wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's ship +bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n +Ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this Joan Welsh. +This is whaur Daly 'll come in. He'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer +man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a +fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th' chance o' a spree. Daly 'll +pey th' fine, gae yer man a nicht's rope fur a maddenin' drunk, an' +ship 'm on th' New-Yorker i' th' mornin'. There's nae help for't; +that's th' wey they dae things oot here; unless maybe ye'd pey th' fine +yersels?" +</P> + +<P> +This was our opportunity, and Munro asked for a loan till next week. +He explained the state of our purses and the uselessness of applying to +the Captain so early in the week; James was dubious. Munro urged the +case in homely Doric; James, though pleased to hear the old tongue, was +still hesitating when Munro skilfully put a word of the Gaelic here and +there. A master move! James was highly flattered at our thinking he +had the Gaelic (though never a word he knew), and when Munro brought a +torrent of liquid vowels into the appeal, James was undone. The blood +of the Standard Bearer of the Honourable Order of the Scottish Clans +coursed proudly through his veins, and, readjusting his tartan necktie, +he parted with fifteen dollars on account. +</P> + +<P> +Now a difficulty arose. It being a working day, none of us would get +away to attend the Court. We thought of Old Martin, the night +watchman. As he slept soundly during three-fifths of his night watch, +it was no hardship for the old 'shellback' to turn out, but he wasn't +in the best of tempers when we wakened him and asked his assistance. +</P> + +<P> +"Yew boys thinks nuthin' ov roustin' a man out, as 'as bin on watch awl +night." (Martin was stretched out like a jib downhaul, sound asleep on +the galley floor, when we had come aboard on Sunday night). "Thinks +nuthin' at awl ov callin' a man w'en ye ain't got no damn business +to.... W'en Ah was a boy, it was ropesendin' fer scratchin' a match in +fo'cas'le, 'n hell's-hidin' fer speakin' in a Dago's whisper!"—Martin +sullenly stretched out for his pipe, ever his first move on +waking—"Nowadays boys is men an' men 's old.—— W'y"—Martin waved +his little black pipe accusingly—"taint only t' other day w'en that +there Jones lays out 'n th' tawps'l yardarm afore me 'n mittens th' +bloody earin' 's if awl th' sailormen wos dead!" His indignation was +great, his growls long and deep, but at last he consented to do our +errand—"tho' ain't got no use for that damned Welshman meself!" +</P> + +<P> +Arrayed in his pilot cloth suit, with a sailorlike felt hat perched +rakish on his hard old head, old Martin set out with our fifteen +dollars in his pocket, and his instructions, to pay John's fine and +steer clear of the 'crimps.' We had misgivings as to the staunchness +of our messenger, but we had no other, and it was with some slight +relief that we watched him pass the nearest saloon with only a wave of +his arm to the bar-keeper and tramp sturdily up the street towards the +City. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner-time neither John nor Old Martin had rejoined the ship. We +thought, with misgiving, that a man with fifteen dollars in his becket +would be little likely to remember the miserly meal provided by the +ship, and even Browne (the Mark Tapley of our half-deck) said he +shouldn't be surprised if the 'crimps' had got both John and Old Martin +(to say nothing of our fifteen dollars). As the day wore on we grew +anxious, but at last we got news of the absentees when Peden passed, on +his way out to the Bay. The sentimental Scotsman of the morning had +thought a lot after his liberal response to Munro's appeal, and had +called round at the Police Court to see that the affair was genuine. +He was now in his right senses; a man of rock, not to be moved even by +a mention of Burns's 'Hielan' Mary,' his tartan tie had slipped nearly +out of sight beneath the collar of his coat, and the hard, metallic +twang of his voice would have exalted a right 'down-easter.' +</P> + +<P> +"Yewr man was 'up' w'en Ah got raound," he said, "up before Kelly, 's +Ah reckoned. Ah didn't hear the chyarge, but thyar was th' Dutchman +with 's head awl bandaged up—faked up, Ah guess. Th' Jedge ses t' th' +prisoner, 'Did yew strike this man?' Yewr man answers, 'Inteed to +goodness, yer 'anner, he looks 's if somebody 'd struck 'm!' Wi' that +a laugh wint raound, an' yewr man tells 's story." (James's Doric was +returning to him, and the twang of his "u's" became less pronounced.) +"He had bin in hospital, he said, wasn't very strong—here th' Dutchman +looks up, wonderin' like—had ta'en a drap o' drink wi' a man he met in +'sailor-town.' There wis talk aboot a joab ashore, an' they were in +Mertin's tae see aboot it, an' yer man sees this Mertin pit somethin' +i' th' drink. He didna like the looks o't, he said, so he ups an' gies +Mertin yin on th' heid wi' a 'schooner' gless. That wis a' he kent +aboot it, an' th' Dutchman begood his yarn. Oot o' his +kind-hertedness, he'd gie'n th' pris'ner a gless or twa, fower at th' +maist, when th' thankless villain ups an' ca's 'm names an' belts 'm on +th' heid wi' a gless. 'Pit drugs i' th' drink?' Naethin' o' th' kind! +He wis jist takin' a fly oot o't wi' the haunle o' a spune. +</P> + +<P> +"A bad business, says Kelly, a bad business! There's faur too miny av +thim British sailormin makin' trouble on th' Front. It's tin dallars, +says he, tin dallars 'r fourteen days! +</P> + +<P> +"Ah saw Daly git up frae th' sate an' he his a long confab wi' yer man, +but jist then yer auld watchman tramps in, an' efter speirin' aboot he +ups an' peys th' fine, an' they let yer man oot. Ah seen th' twa o' +them gang aff wi' Daly, an' Ah couldna verra weel ha'e onythin' tae dae +wi' them when he wis bye." +</P> + +<P> +This was James's news; he was not surprised to learn that they had not +returned to the ship, and, as he passed on, on his way to the jetty +steps, muttered, "Weel, it's a gey peety they had that five dollars +ower much, for Ah doot they'll baith be under th' 'Blue Peter' before +th' morn's mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +When we knocked off for the day we were soon ashore looking for the +wanderers, and early found plain evidence that they had been +celebrating John's 'convalescence' and release. An Italian +orange-seller whom we met had distinct memory of two seafaring +gentlemen purchasing oranges and playing 'bowls' with them in the +gutter of a busy street; a Jewish outfitter and his assistants were +working well into the night, rearranging oilskins and sea-boots on the +ceiling of a disordered shop, and a Scandinavian dame, a vendor of +peanuts, had a tale of strange bargainings to tell. +</P> + +<P> +Unable to find them, we returned to the ship. One of us had to keep +Martin's watch, and the Mate was already on the track of the affair +with threatenings of punishment for the absent watchman. +</P> + +<P> +About ten we heard a commotion on the dock side, and looked over to see +the wanderers, accompanied by all the 'larrikins' of 'sailor-town,' +making for the ship. Two policemen in the near background were there +to see that no deliberate breach-of-the-peace took place. +</P> + +<P> +Martin, hard-headed Old Martin, who stood drink better than the +Welshman, was singing '<I>Bound away to the West'ard in th' Dreadnought +we go</I>' in the pipingest of trebles, and Welsh John, hardly able to +stand, was defying the Dutch, backed by numberless Judge Kellys, and +inviting them to step up, take off their jackets and come on. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE SACRAMENTO +</H4> + +<P> +After our cargo was discharged we left Mission Wharf for an anchorage +in the Bay, and there—swinging flood and ebb—we lay in idleness. +There were many ships in the anchorage, and many more laid up at +Martinez and Saucilito, for the year's crop was not yet to hand, and +Masters were hanging back for a rise in freights. There we lay, idle +ships, while the summer sun ripened the crops and reared the golden +grain for the harvest—the harvest that we waited to carry round the +roaring Horn to Europe. Daily we rowed the Old Man ashore, and when he +returned from the Agent's office, we could tell by the way he took a +request (say, for a small advance "to buy a knife") that our ship was +still unchartered, and likely to be so for some time. +</P> + +<P> +To a convenient wharf the gigs of each ship came every morning, and +from then to untold hours of the night the jetty steps were well worn +by comings and goings. Some of the Captains (the man-driving ones, who +owed no man a moment) used to send their boats back to the ship as soon +as they landed, but a number kept theirs at the wharf in case messages +had to be sent off. We usually hung around at the jetty, where there +were fine wooden piles that we could carve our barque's name on when +our knives were sharp enough. With the boats' crews from other ships +we could exchange news and opinions, and quarrel over points in +seamanship. +</P> + +<P> +Those amongst us who had often voyaged to 'Frisco, and others who had +been long in the port, were looked upon as 'oracles,' and treated with +considerable respect. The <I>Manydown</I> had been sixteen months in +'Frisco, and her boys could easily have passed muster as Americans. +They chewed sweet tobacco ("malassus kyake," they called it), and swore +Spanish oaths with freedom and abandon. Their gig was by far the +finest and smartest at the jetty, and woe betide the unwitting 'bow' +who touched her glossy varnished side with his boat-hook. For him a +wet swab was kept in readiness, and their stroke, a burly ruffian, was +always willing to attend to the little affair if it went any farther. +Our Captains came down in batches, as a rule, and there would be great +clatter of oars and shipping of rowlocks as their boats hauled +alongside to take them off. Rivalry was keen, and many were the +gallant races out to the anchorage, with perhaps a little sum at stake +just for the honour of the ship. +</P> + +<P> +We had about a month of this, and it was daily becoming more difficult +to find a decently clear space on the piles on which to carve +'<I>Florence</I>, of Glasgow.' One day the Old Man returned at an unusual +hour, and it was early evident that something was afoot; he was too +preoccupied to curse Hansen properly for being away from the boat on +business of his own, and, instead of criticising our stroke and telling +us what rotten rowers we were, as was his wont, he busied himself with +letters and papers. We put off to the ship in haste, and soon the news +went round that we were going up-river to Port Costa, to load for home. +Old Joe Niven was the medium through whom all news filtered from the +cabin, and from him we had the particulars even down to the amount of +the freight. We felt galled that a German barque, which had gone up a +week before, was getting two and twopence-ha'penny more; but we took +consolation in the thought of what a fine crow we would have over the +'Torreador's,' who were only loading at forty-five and sixpence, direct +to Hull. +</P> + +<P> +On board we only mustered hands enough to do the ordinary harbour work, +and raising the heavy anchors was a task beyond us; so at daybreak next +morning we rowed round the ships to collect a crew. The other Captains +had promised our Old Man a hand, here and there, and when we pulled +back we had men enough, lusty and willing, to kedge her up a hill. +</P> + +<P> +There was mist on the water when we started to 'clear hawse'—the +thick, clammy mist that comes before a warm day. About us bells +clattered on the ships at anchor, and steamers went slowly by with a +hiss of waste steam that told of a ready hand on the levers. Overhead, +the sky was bright with the promise of a glorious day, but with no mind +to lift the pall from the water, it looked ill for a ready passage. We +had four turns of a foul hawse to clear (the track of a week's calms), +and our windlass was of a very ancient type, but our scratch crew +worked well and handy, and we were ready for the road when the screw +tug <I>Escort</I> laid alongside and lashed herself up to our quarter. They +tow that way on the Pacific Coast—the wily ones know the advantage of +having a ship's length in front of them to brush away the 'snags.' +</P> + +<P> +A light breeze took the mist ''way down under,' and we broke the +weather anchor out with the rousing chorus of an old sea song: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>To my way-ay, Storm-alo-ong;</I>)</SPAN><BR> +O-old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>Aye! Aye! Aye! Mister Storm-along.</I>)</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Some friends of the Captain had boarded us from the tug, eager for the +novelty of a trip up-river in a real Cape Horner. One elderly lady was +so charmed by our 'chantey,' that she wanted the Captain to make us +sing it over again. She wondered when he told her that that was one +thing he could not do. With the rare and privileged sight of frocks on +the poop, there was a lot of talk about who should go to the wheel. +Jones worked himself into it, and laid aft in a clean rig when the Old +Man called for a hand to the wheel. There he made the most of it, and +hung gracefully over the spokes with his wrists turned out to show the +tattoo marks. +</P> + +<P> +The skipper of the tug came aboard our ship to pilot up the river, and +he directed the movements of his own vessel from our poop deck. We +passed under the guns of rocky Alcatraz, and stood over to the wooded +slopes and vineyards of Saucilito, where many 'laid-up' ships were +lying at the buoys, with upper yards down and huge ballast booms lashed +alongside. Here we turned sharply to the norrard and bore up the broad +bosom of Sacramento—the river that sailormen make songs about, the +river that flows over a golden bed. Dull, muddy water flowing swiftly +seawards; straight rip in the channel, and a race where the high banks +are; a race that the Greek fishermen show holy pictures to, when the +springs are flowing! +</P> + +<P> +With us, the tide was light enough, and our Pilot twisted her about +with the skill and nonchalance of a master hand. One of our +passengers, a young woman who had enthused over everything, from the +shark's tail on the spanker-boom end ("Waal—I never!") to the curl of +the bo'sun's whiskers ("Jest real sweet!"), seemed greatly interested +at the frequent orders to the steersman. +</P> + +<P> +"Sa-ay, Pilot!" she said, "Ah guess yew must know every rock 'bout +hyar?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wa-al, no, Miss, ah kyan't say 's Ah dew," answered Palinurus; "but Ah +reckon tew know whar th' deep wa-r-r is!" +</P> + +<P> +As we approached the shallows at the head of San Pablo Bay, the Old Man +expressed an opinion as to the lack of water, and the Pilot again +provided a jest for the moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's awl right, Cap.; she's only drawin' twelve feet, 'n Ah kin +tak' 'r over a damp meadow 'n this trim!" +</P> + +<P> +We met a big stern-wheel ferry bound down from Benicia with a load of +freight wagons. She looked like an important junction adrift. +Afterwards we saw a full-rigged ship towing down, and when near we made +her out to be the <I>Torreador</I>, ready for sea. This was a great +disappointment to us, for we had looked forward to being with her at +Port Costa. Now, our long-dreamt-of boat-race was off (with our boat's +crew in first-class trim, too!), and amid the cheering as we met and +passed on, we heard a shrill and unmistakable '<I>cock-a-doodle-doo!</I>' +which we remembered with indignation for many a day. Tall and stately +she looked, with her flags a-peak and everything in trim: yards all +aloft, and squared to an inch and her sails rolled up without crease +like the dummy covers on the booms of a King's yacht. A gallant ship, +and a credit to the flag she flew. +</P> + +<P> +We passed many floating tree trunks and branches in the river. The +snows had come away from the Sierras, and there was spate on +Sacramento. We rode over one of the 'snags' with a shudder, and all +our jack-easy Pilot said was, "Guess that'll take some 'f th' barnacles +off 'r battum, bettr'r a week's sojerin' with the patent scrubber!" +All the same he took very good care that his own craft rode free of +obstruction. +</P> + +<P> +Rounding a bend, we came in sight of our rendezvous, but Port Costa +showed little promise from the water-side, though the sight of our old +friends, the <I>Crocodile</I>, the <I>Peleus</I>, and the <I>Drumeltan</I>, moored at +the wharf cheered us. Two or three large mills, with a cluster of +white houses about, composed the township; a large raft-like ferry +which carried the 'Frisco mail trains bodily across the river +contributed to its importance, but there was nothing else about the +place to excite the remark of even an idle 'prentice boy. +</P> + +<P> +A little way up-stream was a town, indeed; a town of happy memories. +Benicia, with its vineyards and fruit gardens, and the low, old houses, +alone perhaps in all California to tell of Spain's dominion. A town of +hearty, hospitable folk, unaffected by the hustle of larger cities; a +people of peace and patience, the patience of tillers of the vine. +</P> + +<P> +Off Martinez, where the river is wide, we canted ship, and worked back +to Port Costa against the tide. We made fast at the ballast wharf, and +our borrowed crew, having completed their job, laid aft to receive the +Captain's blessing, and a silver dollar to put in their pockets. Then +they boarded the tug, and were soon on their way back to 'Frisco. +</P> + +<P> +When Jones came from the wheel, he had great tales to tell of the +attentions the ladies had paid him. He plainly wished us to understand +that he'd made an impression, but we knew that was not the way of it, +for Old Niven had told Eccles that the pretty one was engaged to be +married to the ship's butcher, down in 'Frisco, a fairy Dutchman of +about fifteen stone six. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +HOMEWARD +</H4> + +<P> +In a Sunday morning, while Benicia's bells were chiming for early Mass, +we cast off from the wharf at Port Costa and towed down Sacramento. +Though loaded and in sea trim, we were still short of a proper crew, so +we brought up in 'Frisco Bay to complete our complement. +</P> + +<P> +Days passed and the boarding-masters could give us no more than two +'rancheros' (who had once seen the sea from Sonoma Heights), and a +young coloured man, a sort of a seaman, who had just been discharged +from Oakland Jail. The Old Man paid daily visits to the Consul, who +could do nothing—there were no men. He went to the boarding-houses, +and had to put up with coarse familiarity, to drink beer with the scum +of all nations, to clap scoundrels on the back and tell them what sly +dogs they were. It was all of no use. The 'crimps' were +crippled—there were no men. +</P> + +<P> +"Wa-al, Cap.," Daly would say to the Old Man's complaint, "what kin we +dew? I guess we kyan't make men, same's yewr bo'sin 'ud make +spunyarn.... Ain't bin a darned soul in this haouse fer weeks as cud +tell a clew from a crojeck. Th' ships is hangin' on ter ther men like +ole blue! Captens is a-given' em chickens an' soft-tack, be gosh, an' +dollars fer 'a drunk' on Sundays.... When they turns 'em to, it's, +'Naow, lads, me boys! When yew'r ready, me sons!' ... A month a-gone +it was, 'Out, ye swine! Turn aout, damn ye, an' get a move on!' ... +Ah, times is bad, Cap.; times is damn bad! I ain't fingered an advance +note since th' <I>Dharwar</I> sailed—a fortnight ago! Hard times, I guess, +an' we kyan't club 'em aboard, same's we use ter!" +</P> + +<P> +A hopeless quest, indeed, looking for sailormen ashore; but ships were +expected, and when the wind was in the West the Old Man would be up on +deck at daybreak, peering out towards the Golden Gate, longing for the +glad sight of an inward bounder, that would bring the sorely needed +sailors in from the sea. +</P> + +<P> +A week passed, a week of fine weather, with two days of a rattling +nor'west wind that would have sent us on our way, free of the land, +with a smother of foam under the bows. All lost to us, for no ships +came in, and we lay at anchor, swinging ebb and flood—a useless hull +and fabric, without a crew to spread the canvas and swing the great +yards! +</P> + +<P> +Every morning the Mate would put the windlass in gear and set +everything in readiness for breaking out the anchor; but when we saw no +tug putting off, and no harbour cat-boats tacking out from the shore +with sailors' bags piled in the bows, he would undo the morning's work +and put us to 'stand-by' jobs on the rigging. There were other loaded +ships in as bad a plight as we. The <I>Drumeltan</I> was eight hands short +of her crew of twenty-six, and the Captain of the <I>Peleus</I> was +considering the risk of setting off for the Horn, short-handed by +three. Sailors' wages were up to thirty and thirty-five dollars a +month, and at that (nearly the wage of a Chief Mate of a 'limejuicer') +there were no proper able seamen coming forward. Even the 'hobos' and +ne'er-do-weels, who usually flock at 'Frisco on the chance of getting a +ship's passage out of the country, seemed to be lying low. +</P> + +<P> +One evening the ship <I>Blackadder</I> came in from sea. She was from the +Colonies; had made a long passage, and was spoken of as an extra +'hungry' ship—and her crew were in a proper spirit of discontent. She +anchored near us, and the Old Man gazed longingly at the fine stout +colonials who manned her. He watched the cat-boats putting off from +the shore, and smiled at the futile attempts of the ship's Captain and +Mates to keep the 'crimps' from boarding. If one was checked at the +gangway, two clambered aboard by the head, and the game went merrily on. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's she from, Mister?" said the Old Man to the Mate who stood with +him. "Did ye hear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Newcastle, New South Wales, I heard," said Mr. Hollins. "Sixty-five +days out, the butcher said; him that came off with the stores this +morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Sixty-five, eh! Thirty o' that for a 'dead horse,' an' there'll be +about six pound due the men; a matter o' four or five pound wi' slop +chest an' that! They'll not stop, Mister, damn the one o' them' ... +Ah, there they go; there they go!" Sailors' bags were being loaded +into the cat-boats. It was the case of: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<I>The grub was bad, an' th' wages low,</I><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em"><I>An' it's time—for us—t' leave 'r!</I></SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Good business for us, anyway," said the Old Man, and told the Mate to +get his windlass ready for 'heaving up' in the morning. +</P> + +<P> +Alas! he left the other eager shipmasters out of his count. The +Captain of the <I>Drumeltan</I> raised the 'blood-money' to an unheard-of +sum, and two days later towed out to sea, though the wind was W.S.W. +beyond the Straits—a 'dead muzzler'! +</P> + +<P> +A big American ship—the <I>J. B. Flint</I>—was one of the fleet of +'waiters.' She was for China. 'Bully' Nathan was Captain of her (a +man who would have made the starkest of pirates, if he had lived in +pirate times), and many stories of his and his Mates' brutality were +current at the Front. No seaman would sign in the <I>Flint</I> if he had +the choice; but the choice lay with the boarding-master when 'Bully' +Nathan put up the price. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me gravediggers or organ-grinders, boys, if ye kyan't get +sailormen," he was reported to have said. "Anything with two hands an' +feet. I guess I'm Jan—K.—Nathan, and they'll be sailormen or +'stiffs' before we reach aout!" No one knew where she got a crew, but +while the Britishers were awaiting semi-lawful service, Jan K. slipped +out through the night, getting the boarding-house runners to set sail +for him before they left the <I>Flint</I> with her crew of drugged +longshoremen. At the end of the week we got three more men. Granger, +a Liverpool man, who had been working in the Union Ironworks, and, +"sick o' th' beach," as he put it, wanted to get back to sea again. +Pat Hogan, a merry-faced Irishman, who signed as cook (much to the joy +of Houston, who had been the 'food spoiler' since McEwan cleared). The +third was a lad, Cutler, a runaway apprentice, who had been working +ashore since his ship had sailed. It was said that he had been +'conducting' a tramcar to his own immediate profit and was anxious. We +were still six hands short, but, on the morning after a Yankee clipper +came in from New York, we towed out—with three prostrate figures lying +huddled among the raffle in the fo'cas'le. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +We raised the anchor about midnight and dawn found us creeping through +the Golden Gate in the wake of a panting tug. There was nothing to +see, for the morning mist was over the Straits, and we had no parting +view of the harbour. The siren on Benita Point roared a raucous +warning as we felt our way past the Head; and that, for us, was the +last of the land. +</P> + +<P> +When we reached the schooner and discharged our Pilot, it was still a +'clock calm,' and there was nothing for it but to tow for an offing, +while we put the canvas on her in readiness for a breeze. +</P> + +<P> +At setting sail we were hard wrought, for we were still three hands +short of our complement, and the three in the fo'cas'le were beyond +hope by reason of drug and drink. The blocks and gear were stiff after +the long spell in harbour. Some of the new men were poor stuff. The +Mexican 'rancheros' were the worst; one was already sea-sick, and the +other had a look of despair. They followed the 'crowd' about and made +some show of pulling on the tail of the halyards, but they were very +green, and it was easy to work off an old sailor's trick on +them—'lighting up the slack' of the rope, thus landing them on the +broad of their backs when they pulled—at nothing! We should have had +pity for them, for they never even pretended to be seamen; but we were +shorthanded in a heavy ship, and the more our arms ached, the louder +grew our curses at their clumsy 'sodgerin'.' +</P> + +<P> +One of the three in the fo'cas'le 'came to' and staggered out on deck +to see where he was. As he gazed about, dazed and bewildered, the +Mate, seeing him, shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, you! What's yer name?" +</P> + +<P> +The man passed his hand over his eyes and said, "Hans." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Hans, you git along to the tops'l halyards; damn smart's th' +word!" +</P> + +<P> +With hands to his aching head, the man staggered drunkenly. Everything +was confusion to him. Where was he? What ship? What voyage? The +last he remembered would be setting the tune to a Dago fiddler in a +gaudy saloon, with lashings of drink to keep his feet a-tripping. Now +all was mixed and hazy, but in the mist one thing stood definite, a +seamanlike order: "Top'sl halyards! Damn smart!" Hans laid aft and +tallied on with the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +Here was a man who had been outrageously used. +Drugged—robbed—'shanghai-ed'! His head splitting with the foul +drink, knowing nothing and no one; but he had heard a seamanlike order, +so he hauled on the rope, and only muttered something about his last +ship having a crab-winch for the topsail halyards! +</P> + +<P> +About noon we cast off the tug, but there was yet no wind to fill our +canvas, and we lay as she had left us long after her smoke had vanished +from the misty horizon. +</P> + +<P> +At one we were sent below for our first sea-meal. Over our beef and +potatoes we discussed our new shipmates and agreed that they were a +weedy lot for a long voyage. In this our view was held by the better +men in the fo'cas'le and, after dinner, the crew came aft in a body, +headed by Old Martin, who said "as 'ow they wanted t' speak t' th' +Captin!" +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man was evidently prepared for a 'growl' from forward, and took +a conciliatory stand. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, men? What's the trouble? What have you to say?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Old Martin took the lead with assurance. "I speaks for all 'ans, +Captin," he said.... "An' we says as 'ow this 'ere barque is +short-'anded; we says as 'ow there's three empty bunks in th' +fo'cas'le; an' two of th' 'ans wot's shipped ain't never bin aloft +afore. We says as 'ow—with all doo respeck, Captin—we wants yer t' +put back t' port for a crew wot can take th' bloomin' packet round the +'Orn, Sir!" +</P> + +<P> +Martin stepped back, having fired his shot, and he carefully arranged a +position among his mates, so that he was neither in front of the 'men' +or behind, where Houston and the cook and the 'rancheros' stood. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man leaned over the poop-rail and looked at the men +collectively, with great admiration. He singled out no man for +particular regard, but just admired them all, as one looks at soldiers +on parade. He moved across the poop to see them at a side angle; the +hands became hotly uncomfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this I hear, men? What's this I hear?" +</P> + +<P> +("As fine a crowd o' men as ever I shipped, Mister," a very audible +aside to the Mate.) "What's this I hear? D'ye mean t' tell me that +ye're afraid t' be homeward bound in a well-found ship, just because +we're three hands short of a big 'crowd'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wot 'bout them wot ain't never been aloft afore," muttered Martin, +though in a somewhat subdued voice. +</P> + +<P> +"What about them?" said the Old Man. "What about them? Why, a month +in fo'cas'le alongside such fine seamen as I see before me" (here he +singled out Welsh John and some of the old hands for a pleasant smile), +"alongside men that know their work." (Welsh John and the others +straightened themselves up and looked away to the horizon, as if the +outcome of the affair were a matter of utter indifference to them.) +"D'ye tell me a month alongside men that have sailed with me before +won't make sailors of them, eh? <I>Tchutt</I>, I know different.... +Sailors they'll be before we reach the Horn." (Here one of the +potential 'sailors' ran to the ship's side, intent on an affair of his +own.) +</P> + +<P> +The men turned to one another, sheepish. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye know well enough we can't get men, even if we did put back to +port," continued the Old Man. "They're no' t' be had! Ye'll have to +do yer best, and I'll see" (a sly wink to the Mate) "that ye ain't put +on. Steward!" +</P> + +<P> +He gave an order that brought a grin of expectation to the faces of all +''ans,' and the affair ended. +</P> + +<P> +A wily one was our Old Jock! +</P> + +<P> +The Mate was indignant at so much talk.... "A 'clip' under the ear for +that Martin," he said, "would have settled it without all that +palaver"; and then he went on to tell the Old Man what happened when he +was in the New Bedford whalers. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye, man! Aye, aye," said Old Jock, "I know the Yankee game, +Mister—blood an' thunder an' belayin' pins an' six-ounce +knuckle-dusters! Gun play, too, an' all the rest of it. I know that +game, Mister, and it doesn't come off on my ship—no' till a' else has +been tried." +</P> + +<P> +He took a turn or two up and down the poop, whistling for a breeze. +Out in the nor'-west the haze was lifting, and a faint grey line of +ruffled water showed beyond the glassy surface of our encircling calm. +</P> + +<P> +"Stan' by t' check th' yards, Mister," he shouted, rubbing his +hands.... "Phe ... w! Phe ... w! Phe ... w! encouraging." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A TRICK AT THE WHEEL +</H4> + +<P> +"Keep 'r full an' by!" +</P> + +<P> +"Full 'n by!" +</P> + +<P> +Houston, relieved from the wheel, reports to the Mate and goes forward, +and I am left to stand my trick. +</P> + +<P> +We are in the south-east trades; a gentle breeze, and all sail set. +Aloft, the ghostly canvas stands out against a star-studded sky, and +the masthead trucks sway in a stately circle as we heave on the light +swell. She is steering easily, asking nothing but a spoke or two when +a fluttering tremor on the weather leach of the royals shows that she +is nearing the wind. The light in the binnacle is dim and spluttering, +the glass smoke-blackened, and one can but see the points on the +compass card. South sou'-west, she heads, swinging a little west at +times, but making a good course. Eccles, who should see to the lights, +is stretched out on the wheel-box grating, resuming the thread of his +slumbers; a muttered "'ware!" will bring him to his feet when the Mate +comes round; meantime, there are stars ahead to steer by, and the +binnacle-lamp may wait. +</P> + +<P> +South of the Line, at four in the morning, is a fine time to see the +stars, if one be but properly awake. Overhead, Orion has reached his +height, and is now striding towards the western horizon. The Dog-star +is high over the mizzen truck, and Canopus, clear of the weather +backstays, is a friend to a drowsy helmsman. The Southern Cross is +clearing the sea-line, and above it many-eyed Argus keeps watch over +the Pole. Old friends, all of them, companions of many a night watch +on leagues of lonely sea. A glow to the eastward marks where the dawn +will break, and the fleecy trade-clouds about the horizon are already +assuming shape and colour. There the stars are paling, but a planet, +Jupiter, perhaps, stands out in brilliance on the fast lightening sky. +</P> + +<P> +Forward one bell is struck, and the look-out chants a long-drawn, +"Aw—ll's well!" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate, who until now has been leaning lazily over the poop rail, +comes aft, yawning whole-heartedly, as men do at sea. He peers into +the dimly-lighted binnacle, turns his gaze to the sail aloft, sniffs +the wind, and fixes me with a stern though drowsy eye. +</P> + +<P> +"H-mm! You, is it?" (I have but a modest reputation as a steersman.) +"Jest you keep 'r full now, or I'll teach ye steerin' in your watch +below. Keep 'r full, an' no damned shinnanikin!" He goes forward. +</P> + +<P> +'Shinnanikin' is a sailor word; it means anything at all; it may be +made an adjective or a verb, or almost any part of speech, to serve a +purpose or express a thought. Here it meant that there was to be no +fooling at the helm, that she was to be steered as by Gunter himself. +"Full an' by," was the word. "Full an' by, an' no damned shinnanikin!" +Right! +</P> + +<P> +The light grows, and the towering mass of canvas and cordage shows +faint shadows here and there. The chickens in the quarter coops stir +and cackle; a cock crows valiantly. Eccles, sleeping his watch on the +lee side of the poop, stirs uneasily, finds a need for movement, and +tramps irresolutely up and down his appointed station. From somewhere +out of sight the Mate shouts an order, and he goes forward to take in +the sidelights; dim and sickly they shine as he lifts them inboard. +</P> + +<P> +There is now some sign of life about the decks. A keen smell of +burning wood and a glare from the galley show that the cook has taken +up the day's duties. Some men of the watch are already gathered about +the door waiting for their morning coffee, and the 'idlers' (as the +word is at sea), the steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, in various +states of attire, are getting ready for their work. +</P> + +<P> +Two bells marks five o'clock, and the crowd about the galley door grows +impatient. The cook has a difficulty with his fire, and is behind time. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, 'doctor'!" shouts Old Martin; "get a move on yer! Them +tawps'l 'alyards is screechin' fer a pull, an' th' Mate's got 'is +heagle heye on that 'ere fore-tack. 'E'll be a-floggin' th' clock +afore ye knows it!" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate hears this, as Martin intended he should, and scowls darkly at +that ancient mariner. Martin will have his 'old iron' worked up for +that before the watch is out. He's a hard case. Coffee is served out, +and the crowd disperses. It is now broad daylight, and the sun is on +the horizon. The east is a-fire with his radiance; purest gold there +changing to saffron and rose overhead; and in the west, where fading +stars show, copper-hued clouds are working down to the horizon in track +of the night. Our dingy sails are cut out in seemly curves and glowing +colours against the deep of the sky; red-gold where the light strikes, +and deepest violet in the shadows. Blue smoke from the galley funnel +is wafted aft by the draught from the sails, and gives a kindly scent +to the air; there is no smell like that of wood fires in the pride of +the morning. This is a time to be awake and alive; a morning to be at +the wheel of a leaning ship. +</P> + +<P> +Presently I am relieved for a few minutes that I may have my coffee. +Being the last man, I get a bo'sun's share of the grounds. To my +protests the cook gives scant heed. +</P> + +<P> +"Ach, sure! Phwat are yez growlin' at? Sure, if ye'd been in my last +ship, yez wouldn't have none at all! Devil the coffee would yez get +till eight bells ov a marnin', an' tay at thatt, bedad!" +</P> + +<P> +The 'doctor,' being Irish, is beyond argument, so I take my pannikin +along to our quarters to sift the grounds as best I can. There is +naught but dry ship's biscuit to put down with it, for it is well on in +the week—Thursday, indeed—and only Hansen among us can make his +week's rations last out beyond that; he was bred in the north. The +half-deck is in its usual hopeless disorder—stuffy and close and +dismal in the shuttered half-light. Four small ports give little air, +and sea clothes hanging everywhere crowd up the space. The beams, +blackened by tobacco smoke, are hacked and carved, covered by the +initials and remarks of bygone apprentices. Only the after one is kept +clear; there the Board of Trade inscription (slightly altered by some +inspiring genius), reads, "Certified to suffocate eight seamen." A +dismal hole on a bright morning! Happily, one has not far to go for a +breath of keen air. Ten minutes is my time, and I am back at the wheel +again. +</P> + +<P> +The Mate is seated on the cabin skylight, smoking. This is his time to +consider the trim of the sails. It is no matter that the evening +before the gear was sweated up to the tautest of sailing trim; the wind +is unchanged, but morning shows wrinkles in the clew of the royals or a +sag in the foot of a topsail. Ropes give mysteriously, and this must +all be righted before the Old Man comes on deck. So he smokes +leisurely and considers the trim. +</P> + +<P> +The day's work begins at half-past five. The Mate strikes three bells +himself, exact, on the tick of the minute, and goes forward to turn the +men to. +</P> + +<P> +"Fore tack," as Martin said, is the first order. The Mate signs to me +to luff her up, and when the sail shakes the tack is hove hard down. +Then sheets and halyards are sweated up, ropes coiled, and a boy sent +aloft to stop up the gear. At the main they have the usual morning +wrestle with the weather topsail sheet—a clew that never did fit. +Macallison's loft must have been at sixes and sevens the day they +turned that sail out; a Monday after Glasgow Fair, belike. When the +trim is right, wash deck begins. A bucket and spar is rigged, and the +clear sparkling water is drawn from overside. This is the fine job of +the morning watch in summer seas. The sound of cool sluicing water and +the swish of scrubbing brooms is an invitation that no one can resist. +There is something in it that calls for bare feet and trousers rolled +above the knee. There is grace in the steady throwing of the +water—the brimming bucket poised for the throw, left foot cocked a few +inches above the deck, the balance, and the sweeping half-circle with +the limpid water pouring strongly and evenly over the planking; then +the recovery, and the quick half-turn to pass the empty bucket and +receive a full—a figure for a stately dance! +</P> + +<P> +Now it is six, and I strike four bells. Martin has the next trick, but +I see no signs of my relief. The Mate will have him at some lowly +'work-up' job, cleaning pig-pens or something like that, for his hint +about flogging the clock in the morning. The cranky old 'shellback' is +always 'asking for it.' +</P> + +<P> +In the waist a row begins, a bicker between the sailmaker and bo'sun. +Old Dutchy is laying it off because someone has spilt water on the +main-hatch, where a sail is spread out, ready for his work. In course, +the bo'sun has called him a 'squarehead,' and 'Sails,' a decent old +Swede, is justly indignant at the insult; only Germans are squareheads, +be it known. "Skvarehedd! Jou calls me skvarehedd! Ah vass no more +skvarehedd as jou vass," he says, excited. "Jou tinks d' sheep vass +jours, mit jour vash-backet und deck-scrub. Dere vass no places for d' +sailmake, aindt it? Skvarehedd! Skvarehedd jourselluf, dam Cockney +loafer!" There are the makings of a tidy row, but the Mate, coming +from forrard, cuts it short. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, then, you men there, quit yer chinning an' get on with the work!" +</P> + +<P> +'Sails' tries to explain his grievance, but meets with little sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +"Squarehead? Well, what the hell's th' odds, anyhow? If ye ain't a +squarehead, ye'r as near it 's can be!" +</P> + +<P> +This is rough on old 'Sails,' whose proud boast is that he has been +"for thirty jahrs sailmake mit British sheeps in!" He goes sorrowfully +to his work, and bends over his seam with many shakings of the head. +"Skvarehedd!" +</P> + +<P> +Time is drawing on, and I am getting tired of my long trick, when I see +Martin coming round the deck-house. He has donned the familiar old red +flannel shirt that he stands his wheel in, and, bareheaded as he always +is at sea, he looks a typical old salt, a Western Ocean warrior. He +mounts the lee ladder, crosses to windward in the fashion of the sea, +and stands behind me. Here, I thought, is a rare chance to get at +Martin. I give him the Mate's last steering order as I got it. +</P> + +<P> +"Full an' by," I said, concealing a foolish grin; "full an' by, and no +damned shinnanikin!" Martin looked at me curiously. "No shinnanikin," +was a new order to a man who could steer blindfold, by the wind on his +cheek; to a man who had steered great ships for perhaps half a century. +On the other hand, orders were orders, meant to be repeated as they +were given, seamanlike. +</P> + +<P> +Martin squared himself, put a fresh piece of tobacco in position, and +gripped the spokes. "Full 'n' by," he said, lifting his keen old eyes +to the weather clews of the royals, "full 'n' by, 'n' no damned +shinnanikin, it is!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +''OLY JOES' +</H4> + +<P> +"She'll be one o' them 'oly Joes; them wot cruises among th' Islands +wi' tracks an' picter books for th' bloomin' 'eathens!" +</P> + +<P> +"'O—ly Joes! 'Oly Joes b' damn," said Martin. "'Oly Joes is +schooners same's mission boats on th' Gran' Banks! ... 'Oly Joes! +She's a starvation Britisher, that's wot <I>she</I> is; a pound an' pint +ruddy limejuicer by th' set o' them trucks; sailor's misery in them +painted bloomin' ports o' her." +</P> + +<P> +The subject of discussion was a full-rigged ship, standing upright in +mid-Pacific, with all her canvas furled; looking as she might be in +Queenstown Harbour awaiting orders. The south-east trades had blown us +out of the tropics, and we held a variable wind, but there was nothing +in the clean, fresh morning to cause even a Killala pilot to clew up, +and the strange sight of an idle ship in a working breeze soon drew all +hands from work and slumber, to peer over the head rail, to vent +deep-sea logic over such an odd happening. +</P> + +<P> +One of the younger hands had expressed an opinion, and Martin, who held +that "boys an' Dutchmen should only speak when spoke to," was +scornfully indignant. +</P> + +<P> +"'O—ly bloomin' Joe! ... 'Ow should she be an 'oly Joe, me young +'know-all'? Wot d'ye know 'bout 'oly Joes, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well! ... 'eard as 'ow they clews up at eight bells o' a Saturd'y +night an' prays, solid on, till they sets tawps'ls, jack-easy, ov a +Monday mornin'!" +</P> + +<P> +The laugh of derision sent him shamefaced to the fo'cas'le, and we +talked about till there was a call for all hands to haul courses up and +stand by to work ship. We hauled sharp up to windward, and, as we drew +on, we saw what was the matter, and the sight caused our Old Man to +dive below to his charts, cursing his wayward chronometer. +</P> + +<P> +We saw the loom of a low island, scarce raised above the sea, with the +surf breaking lightly, and the big ship piled up, all standing, on the +verge of the weather reef. She looked to be but lately gone on, for +her topsides were scarce weather-beaten. The boats were gone from her +skids, and the davit tackles, swinging lubberly overside, told that her +crew had left her. Aloft, she seemed to be in good trim, and her sails +were as well stowed as if she were lying in the Canning Dock with her +nose against the Custom House. We lay-to for some time with our ensign +apeak, but saw no sign of life aboard of the wreck, and when we fired a +charge from our signal-gun (a rusty six-pounder), only a few sea-birds +rose at the report. We were about to bear off on our course again when +we saw two sail rounding the reef from the west side, and beating out. +</P> + +<P> +There was but a light breeze, and they were some time in reaching us. +One was a large boat with barked canvas, going well and weatherly, but +the other, plainly a ship's lifeboat, hung heavy in the wind, and +presently her crew lowered sail and came at us under oars. The big +boat reached us first, her steersman taking every inch out of the +fickle breeze. Plainly these were no deep-water sailor-men, by the way +they handled their boat. Smart, wiry men, they had no look of +castaways, and their light cotton clothes were cleanly and in order. +As they sheered alongside they hailed us in clear, pleasant English: +one shouted, in face of our line of wondering seamen, a strange sea +salutation: +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you, Captain Leish! Are you long out?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blimy," said the bo'sun, "th' young 'un wos right after all. 'Oly +Joes they be!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mebbe 'oly Joes, but them ain't sailormen," muttered Martin sullenly; +"them's Kanakas!" +</P> + +<P> +Neither was quite right, for the boatmen were Pitcairn Islanders, and +they were soon on deck greeting us in the friendly way of men from +afar. Their leader went aft to the Old Man, and the rest remained to +tell us of the wreck, in exchange for what scant knowledge we had of +affairs. +</P> + +<P> +The island was called Oeno. The ship was the <I>Bowden</I>, of Liverpool. +She had gone ashore, six weeks back, in a northerly wind, with all sail +on her: chronometer was twenty miles out: a bad case, the whole bottom +was ripped out of her, and her ruined cargo of grain smelt abominably; +two of their men were already sick. Ugh! ... The crew of the ship had +made for Pitcairn, ninety miles to the southward; they might be there +now. They (the Islanders) had now been three weeks on the reef, +salving what they could. There was not much: they were all pretty sick +of the job, and wanted to get back to Pitcairn. Perhaps the Captain +would give them a passage; it was on the way? +</P> + +<P> +As we stood about, the Old Man and the leader of the Islanders came out +of the cabin, and talked with the others. All wanted to get back to +Pitcairn, and, the Old Man agreeing to give them a passage, we hoisted +the smaller boat on our davits, towed the other astern, and were soon +on our way towards Pitcairn. +</P> + +<P> +When we got the ship in fair sailing trim, we had a rare opportunity of +learning something of the Island and its people. Discipline was, for +the time, relaxed, and but for working ship, in which the Islanders +joined us, we had the time to ourselves. In the shade of the great +sails, we stood or sat about, and our decks showed an unusual animation +in the groups of men colloguing earnestly—strangers met by the way. +</P> + +<P> +In stature the Islanders were perhaps above the average height, lithe +and wiry, and but few were darker-skinned than a Spaniard or Italian. +They spoke excellent English (though, among themselves, they had a few +odd words), and their speech had no unnecessary adjectives. They had a +gentle manner, and no ill language; sometimes our rough ship talk +raised a slight protest; a raised hand, or a mild, "Oh, Sir!" Their +leader, who was Governor of the Island, was a man in the prime of life, +and, though dressed in dungarees and a worn cotton shirt, barefooted +like the rest, had a quiet dignity in his manner and address that +caused even our truculent Old Martin to call him Sir. There was one +outlander among them, a wiry old man, an American whaleman, who had +been settled on the Island for many years; he it was who steered the +boat, and he knew a little of navigation. +</P> + +<P> +Their talk was mostly of ships that had visited the Island, and they +asked us to run over the names of the ships that were at 'Frisco when +we left; when we mentioned a ship that they knew, they were eager to +know how it fared with her people. They had fine memories. They could +name the Captain and Mates of each ship; of the whalers they had the +particulars even down to the bulk of oil aboard. They seemed to take a +pleasure in learning our names, and, these known, they let pass no +opportunity of using them, slipping them into sentences in the oddest +manner. They themselves had few surnames—Adams, Fletcher, Christian, +and Hobbs (the names of their forefathers, the stark mutineers of the +<I>Bounty</I>)—but their Christian names were many and curious, sometimes +days of the week or even dates. They told us that there was a child +named after our Old Man, who had called off the Island the day after it +was born, five years ago; a weird name for a lassie! In one way the +Islanders had a want. They had no sense of humour. True, they laughed +with us at some merry jest of our Irish cook, but it was the laugh of +children, seeing their elders amused, and though they were ever +cheery-faced and smiling, they were strangely serious in their outlook. +</P> + +<P> +We had light winds, and made slow progress, and it was the afternoon of +the second day when we saw Pitcairn, rising bold and solitary, on the +lee bow. The sun had gone down before we drew nigh, and the Island +stood sharp outlined against the scarlet and gold of a radiant western +sky. Slowly the light failed, and the dark moonless night found us +lifting lazily to the swell off the north point. The Islanders manned +their boats and made off to the landing place. It was clock calm, and +we heard the steady creak of their oars long after the dark had taken +them. We drifted close to the land, and the scent of trees, lime and +orange, was sweetly strange. +</P> + +<P> +The boats were a long time gone, and the Old Man was growing impatient, +when we heard voices on the water, and saw, afar off, the gleam of +phosphorescence on the dripping oars. We heard the cheery hail, "The +<I>Florence</I>, ahoy!" and burned a blue light to lead them on. +</P> + +<P> +There were many new men in the boats, and they brought a cargo of fruit +and vegetables to barter with us. The Old Man heaved a sigh of relief +when he learned that the <I>Bowden's</I> crew were disposed of; they had +taken passage in a whaler that had called, nine days before, on her way +across to Valparaiso—a 'full' ship. +</P> + +<P> +In odd corners the bartering began. Cotton clothes were in most +demand; they had little use for anything heavier. A basket of a +hundred or more luscious oranges could be had for an old duck suit, and +a branch of ripening bananas was counted worth a cotton shirt in a +reasonable state of repair. Hansen had red cotton curtains to his +bunk, full lengths, and there was keen bidding before they were taken +down, destined to grace some island beauty. After the trade in +clothing had become exhausted, there were odd items, luxuries to the +Islanders, soap, matches, needles, thread. There was a demand for +parts of old clocks—Martin it was who had a collection; they told us +that there was a man on the island who was a famous hand at putting up +and repairing such battered timepieces as we had to offer. They had +some curios; rudely carved or painted bamboos, and sea-shells cunningly +fashioned into pin-cushions, with Pitcairn in bold black letters, just +as one might see "A Present from Largs." These were the work of the +women-folk, and showed considerable ingenuity in the way the shells +were jointed. +</P> + +<P> +Although they seemed to have a good idea of the value of the trifles we +offered, there was no 'haggling,' and latterly, when trade slackened, +it came to be, "Sir! if you like this, I will give it to you, and you +will give me something." +</P> + +<P> +There was no cheating. Those of our crew who would glory in 'bilking' +a runner or a Dutchman were strangely decent, even generous, in their +dealings. When we were called away to brace the yards round, stock was +taken on both sides; the Islanders had their boats well laden, and our +once trim deck was strewn with a litter of fruit and vegetables, like +the top of Bell Street on a busy morning. +</P> + +<P> +Light was breaking into the east when we laid the yards to a gentle +breeze, and shortly the Islanders, with a great shaking of hands and +"God bless you," got aboard their boats and sheered off. We were now +to leeward of the Island, and the light showed us the bold wooded +heights, high cliffs, steep to the water's edge, and the small houses +scattered apart among the trees. Astern the boats had hoisted sail, +and were standing inshore, leaning gently to the scented land breeze. +The ''oly Joes' were singing together as they sailed; the tune was an +old familiar one that minded us of quiet Sabbath days in the homeland, +of kirk and kent faces, and, somehow, we felt that it was we who were +the 'bloomin' 'eathens,' for their song was 'Rock of Ages,' and it had +a new sound, mellowed by distance and the water. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +EAST, HALF SOUTH +</H4> + +<P> +On a day of high action in sea and sky we fled, hot-foot, before the +fury of a nor'-west gale. We had run her overlong. Old Jock, for once +at any rate, had had his weather eye bedimmed. He was expecting a +quick shift into the sou'-west, a moderate gale, and a chance to make +his 'easting' round Cape Horn, but the wind hung stubbornly in the +nor'-west; there was no break in the sky, no cessation in the black +bursts of rain and sleet that swept upon us. A huge sea set up, and we +were past the time when we could, in safety, heave her to the wind. +There was nothing for it but to run—run she did. +</P> + +<P> +We had tops'ls and a reefed foresail on her while daylight lasted, but +on threat of darkness we stowed all but the foretops'l; wings enough +for the weight of a hurricane wind. Under that narrow band of +straining canvas she sped on into the murk of advancing night, while +behind the lurid western sky showed threat of a mightier blast in bank +upon bank of ragged storm-cloud. It was a wild night, never a wilder! +</P> + +<P> +In the darkness the uncanny green shimmer of breaking seas gave an +added terror to the scene of storm. Rain and stinging sleet swept +constantly over us, thundering seas towered and curled at our stern, +lapping viciously at the fleeting quarter, or, parting, crashed aboard +at the waist, filling the decks man high with a power of destruction. +Part of the bulwarks were torn from the side. That was, perhaps, the +saving of us, for the seas swept off as fast as they thundered aboard, +and the barque rode buoyant, when, with bulwarks standing, the weight +of compassed water would have held her at mercy of the next towering +greybeard. A boat on the forward skids was smashed to atoms and the +wreck swept overboard, and every moment we looked to see our crazy +half-deck go tottering to ruin. The fo'ca'sle was awash through a +shattered door, and all hands were gathered on the poop for such safety +as it held. There was nowhere else where man could stand on the +reeling hull, and crouching at the rails, wet and chilled to the +marrow, we spent the night a-watching. +</P> + +<P> +The bo'sun and Martin and Hans took turns of the steering; that was +work beyond the rest of us, and the most we could do was to stand by +a-lee and bear on the spokes with the helmsman. Dutchy was the best +steersman, and his steering was no truer than the stout heart of him. +Once she pooped, and the crest of a huge following sea came crashing on +top of us. But for our hold-fasts, all would have been swept away. +That was the time of trial. A falter at the helm—she would have +'broached-to'—to utter destruction! +</P> + +<P> +Amid the furious rush of broken water, 'Dutchy' stood fast at his post, +though there was a gash on his forehead and blood running in his +eyes—the work of the wrenching wheel. +</P> + +<P> +We showed no lights; no lamps would stand to the weather. There was +only the flickering binnacle, tended as never was temple fire, to show +the compass card. By turns we kept a look-out from the tops'l yard, +but of what use was that when we could steer but to one point. We were +a ship of chance, and God help us and the outward-bounder, 'hove-to' in +the trough, that had come between us and the east that night! +</P> + +<P> +How we looked for daylight! How it was long a-coming! How the +mountain seas raced up and hove our barque, reeling from the blow, from +towering crest to hollow of the trough! How every day of the +twenty-five years of her cried out in creak of block, in clatter of +chain sheet, in the 'harping' of the backstays, the straining groan of +the burdened masts! +</P> + +<P> +From time to time through the night the Mate and some of us would go +forward to see to the gear; there was no need to touch a brace, for the +wind blew ominously true. When we got back again, battered and +breathless, it was something to know that the foretops'l still stood +the strain. It was a famous sail, a web of '00 storm,' stitched and +fortified at seam and roping for such a wind as this. Good luck to the +hands that stitched it, to the dingy sail loft in the Govan Road that +turned it out, for it stood us in stead that night! +</P> + +<P> +Once an ill-stowed clew of the mains'l blew out with a sounding crack, +and thrashed a 'devil's tattoo' on the yard. We thought it the tops'l +gone—but no! Macallison's best stood bravely spread to the shrieking +gale, and we soon had the ribbons of the main clew fast to the yard. +</P> + +<P> +There was no broad dawn, no glow in the east to mark its breaking; the +light grew out of the darkness. The masts and spars shaped themselves +out of the gloom, till they stood outlined against the dull grey +clouds. We could see the great seas, white-streaked by lash of driven +spray, running up into the lowering sky. When day came, and the +heaving, wind-swept face of the waters became plain to us, we saw the +stormy path round the Horn in its wildest, grandest mood. Stretching +far to the black murky curtain—the rear of the last shrieking rain +squall—the great Cape Horn greybeards swept on with terrific force and +grandeur, their mile-long crests hurtling skyward in blinding foam. +The old barque ran well, reeling through the long, stormy slopes with +buoyant spring, driving wildly to the trough, smashing the foam far +aside. At times she poised with sickening uncertitude on the crest of +a greater wave, then steadied, and leapt with the breaking water to the +smoother hollow. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man stood by the helmsman, 'conning' her on. All night he had +stood there, ordering, to the shock of following seas, a steady voiced +command. Never a gainly man—short-legged, broad, uncouth—his was yet +a figure in keeping with the scene; unkempt and haggard, blue-lipped, +drenched by sea and rain, he was never less than a Master of the Sea. +At daybreak we heard a hail from the tops'l yard, and saw the +'look-out' pointing ahead. Peering down the wind, we made out the loom +of a ship rising and falling in the trough of the sea. A big +'four-master' she proved, lying 'hove-to' the wind. We shuddered to +think of what would have been if daylight had been further delayed! +</P> + +<P> +Out of the mist and spray we bore down on her and flew by, close to her +stern. We could see figures on her poop staring and pointing, a man +with glasses at his eyes. Only a fleeting glimpse—for she was soon +swallowed up by the murk astern, and we were driving on. The shift of +wind came suddenly. Nearly at noon there was a heavier fall of rain, a +shrieking squall that blew as it had never blown. The Old Man marked +the signs—the scud of the upper clouds, a brightening low down in the +south. +</P> + +<P> +"Stan' by ... head ... yards," he yelled, shouting hoarsely to be +heard. "Quick ... the word!" +</P> + +<P> +All hands struggled to the braces, battling through the wash of icy +water that swept over the decks. +</P> + +<P> +The squall passed, followed by a lull that served us to cant the yards; +then, sharp as a knife-thrust, the wind came howling out of the +sou'-west. The rain ceased and the sky cleared as by a miracle. Still +it blew and the seas, turned by the shift of wind, broke and shattered +in a whirl of confusion. For a time we laboured through the +treacherous cross sea—the barque fretting and turning to windward, +calling for all of 'Dutchy's' cunning at the helm, but it was none so +ill with the sun in sight and a clearing overhead. +</P> + +<P> +"Blast ye," said the Old Man, shaking his benumbed arms towards the +sou'-west. "Blast ye—but ye've been a long time comin'!" +</P> + +<P> +The wind was now to his liking, it was the weather he had looked for, +and sure enough, as quick succeeding squalls rolled up on us, the sea +grew less and ran truer, and the barque sailed easier. The wind fell +to a moderate gale, and by four in the afternoon we had a reefed +foresail and the tops'ls set, and were staggering along at a great +speed. +</P> + +<P> +The decks were yet awash, there was no comfort on deck or below; but +through it all we had one consoling thought: <I>East, half south</I>, we +were covering the leagues that lay between us and our journey's end! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ADRIFT! +</H4> + +<P> +Car-conducting may be a work of niceness and despatch, but it is ill +training for working on the spars of a rolling ship. John Cutler was +mousing clew-blocks on the main-yardarm, the ship lurched heavily, the +foot-ropes were wet and slippery, and John, ill-balanced and unready, +was cast into the sea. Instant, there was the cry "Man overboard"; the +Old Man ordered the helm down, and, springing to the rack, threw a +lifebuoy from the starboard quarter; the Second Mate, not seeing him +throw it, threw another from the port. +</P> + +<P> +We were below at the time, just after dinner, about to turn in, when we +heard the call. All hands ran on deck. The watch were swinging the +head yards; some were unlashing the lee boat. We joined them, tore the +cover off, hooked the tackles, and swung her out. There was confusion; +the Old Man and the Mate shouting cross orders, the boat swinging +wildly on the tackles, men crowding about the rail. +</P> + +<P> +"Another hand in the boat," yelled the Second Mate, as he sprang into +the stern-sheets, "lower away, you!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a whirr of block sheaves, the falls smoking on the pins, a +splash, a rush of water on the rusty side. "Bow off, there! Bow off, +you!" and I found myself in the bow of the boat, tugging frantically at +the heft of a long oar. +</P> + +<P> +There was that in the steady <I>clack—clack-a</I> of oar on rowlock to +soothe the tremors of our moment of excited haste. Astern was the +barque, her mainyards aback, rolling heavily athwart the swell; we were +leaving her slowly, for, though the breeze was light, we had to climb +the long steep slopes of a Cape Horn swell. Old Martin's broad back +was bent to the oar in front of me, Houston beyond, and the bo'sun at +the stroke. The Second Mate was standing up at the tiller, listening +for a hail, gazing anxiously ahead for gleam of a painted life-buoy. +<I>Clack—clack-a, clack—clack-a</I>; the bo'sun was setting us a feverish +stroke; it couldn't last. <I>Clack—clack-a, clack—clack-a</I>; we were +already breathing heavily. Up and down the heaving swell we went; +crawling laboured to the crown—the shudder, and the quick, sickening +descent! <I>Clack—clack-a</I>! Would it ever end? Now I was pulling out +of stroke—a feeble paddle. My neck! I had the pain there! ... "Bow, +there! Lay in, an' keep yer eyes about. He must be here somewhere!" +</P> + +<P> +I laid in my oar, and faced about. We could not see far, the swell was +too great. When the boat rose we had a hasty glimpse of the face of +the water, but in the hollow, the great glassy walls rose ahead and +astern. We thought we had overrun the distance, and lay-to for a time. +Then on again, shouting as we went. The Second Mate saw something on +the crest of a roller, just a glimpse, and we pulled to it. It was +Cutler's round cap; we had steered a good course. Near by we found him +with his arm twisted round the grab rope of the lifebuoy. He was dazed +and quiet when we dragged him over the stern. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Chris'! Oh, Chris'!" was all he said. +</P> + +<P> +We were about to return when Mr. M'Kellar thought of the second +lifebuoy. +</P> + +<P> +"Bow, there! D'ye see the other buoy; it'll be somewhere t' th' +norrard!" +</P> + +<P> +I stood up, unsteadily. There was something white in the hollow of a +farther roller. We edged over; it was but a fleck of foam. Farther +over, up and down the swell we climbed until we found it. We turned to +row back. "Back starboard! Pull port, you!" the boat's head swung +round, and we rose quickly on the following swell. +</P> + +<P> +There was a startled cry from the stern-sheets, "<I>O Dhia! O Dhia!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +Well might M'Kellar cry out, for, unobserved of any, the mist had +closed in on us. There was no ship in sight, no point to steer +for—nothing to guide; there was only the great glassy walls rising and +falling, moving up into the thickening mist. +</P> + +<P> +A panic seized us; furiously we rowed, driving the boat into it with no +thought of course or distance. She was awash underfoot before we +exhausted ourselves, and lay, breathing heavily, over the oars. +</P> + +<P> +The bo'sun was the first to regain a state of sanity. "Vast rowin'," +he cried; "vast rowin'! We cawn't do no good like this. Liy 'er to, +Mister! Liy-to; it's the ownly thing!" +</P> + +<P> +M'Kellar put the tiller over, and we brought her head to swell again. +</P> + +<P> +We stood up, all eyes a-watching; we shouted together, listened intent; +there was no friendly sail looming in the mist, no answer to our cries. +We rowed aimlessly. Sometimes we fancied we could hear a hail or a +creak of blocks. We would lash blindly at the oars till the foam flew, +then lie-to again. There was no compass in the boat, no food; only a +small barreca of water. Sometimes it is thick weather off the Horn for +days! If the mist held? +</P> + +<P> +Cutler, crouching, shivering in the stern-sheets, began to cry like a +child. Cold, wet, unnerved, he was feeling it worst of us all. "Shut +up," said the Second Mate, dragging off his jacket and throwing it over +the shivering lad. Old Martin was strangely quiet; he, too, was +shivering. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the call, +and was ill-clad for boat service. Only once did he show a bit of his +old gallant truculence. "All right, Mister! If we loses track o' th' +ship, we've got plenty o' prewisions! We can eat them lifebuoys, wot +ye was so keen a-gettin'!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, quit yer chinnin', ye old croak! 'Oo's talkin' abaht losin' track +o' th' ship!" The bo'sun didn't like to think! Cutler became +light-headed, and began to talk wildly; he would stand up, pointing and +shouting out, "There she is, there!" Then he began to make queer +noises, and became very quiet. There was the canvas boat cover lying +in the bottom of the boat. The bo'sun put this round him, and I was +ordered aft to rub him down. +</P> + +<P> +The cold became intense. When the heat of our mad spurt had passed, +depression came on us and we cowered, chilled to the marrow by the +mist, on the gratings of the heaving boat. Long we lay thus, Houston +and the bo'sun pulling a listless stroke to keep her head to the swell. +We had no count of time. Hours must have passed, we thought. +</P> + +<P> +"The Dago 'll hae ma trick at th' wheel, noo," said Houston strangely. +"It wis ma turn at fower bells!" +</P> + +<P> +No one heeded him. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll hae tae shift some o' th' hauns i' th' watches, eh? ... wi' +you, an' Martin, an' th' young fla' no' there!" he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, shut up, damn ye! Shut up, an' listen. <I>O Dhia!</I> can ye hear +nocht?" M'Kellar, standing up on the stern-sheets, was casting wild +glances into the pall that enshrouded us. "Here! All together, men—a +shout!" +</P> + +<P> +A weakly chorus went out over the water. +</P> + +<P> +Silence. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Houston stood up. "Maister, did ye hear that—a cheep!" We +thought that he was going off like Cutler; we could hear nothing. "A +cheep, Ah telt ye, Maister; a cheep, as shair's daith!" Houston was +positive. "The jerk o' a rudder, or" ... Almost on top of us there was +a flash of blinding fire, the roar of a gun followed! +</P> + +<P> +We sprang to the oars, shouting madly—shaping out of the mist was the +loom of a square sail, there was sound of a bell struck. No need now +to talk of eating lifebuoys; Houston would be in time for his trick at +the wheel! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +"What th' blazes kept ye, Mister? We saw ye pickin' th' man up! What +made ye turn t' th' norrard?" The Old Man had a note of anger in his +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Sir, we couldn't see th' other buoy, an' I thought it a peety if +we didn't pick it up; an' while we were lookin' for it, we lost track +o' th' ship," said Mister M'Kellar, ashamed and miserable. +</P> + +<P> +The Mate broke in, "Ye damn fool! D'ye mean t' tell us ye risked a +whole boat's crew for a tuppence-ha'penny lifebuoy? B'gad, it would +serve ye right if ye had t' go seekin' like th' Flying Dutchman!" The +Mate continued to curse such stupidity, but the Old Man, though +permitting the Mate to rail, was wonderfully silent. After all, +M'Kellar, like himself, was a Scotchman, and much may be forgiven to a +Scotchman—looking after his owners' property! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XVIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"——AFTER FORTY YEAR!" +</H4> + +<P> +"Martin?" ... "<I>Huh!</I>" "Lewis?" ... "<I>Iss!</I>" "Granger?" ... "<I>'Ere!</I>" +"Ulricks?" ... "<I>Ya!</I>" "Dago Joe?" ... "<I>Ser!</I>" "'Ansen?" ... "<I>Yep!</I>" +"Bunn?" ... "<I>Yes!</I>" "Munro?" ... "<I>Here!</I>" +"Eccles?—ECCLES!—ECC—Damn your eyes, lay 'long 'ere! You goin' t' +keep awl 'ans waitin'?" Eccles joined us fumbling with the buttons of +his jacket. (Eccles, for the time limit!) "Awl 'ere," continued the +bo'sun; then reported to the Mate, "Watch is aft, Sir!" +</P> + +<P> +A surly growl that might have been, "Relieve the wheel and look-out," +came from the poop, and we were dismissed muster; the starboard watch +to their rest; we of the port to take our turn on deck. +</P> + +<P> +It was a cold, raw morning that fell to our lot. A light wind, blowing +from north of west in fitful puffs, scarcely slanted the downpour of +thin, insistent rain; rain that by the keenness of it ought to have +been snow or sleet. The sea around was shrouded in mist, and breaking +day, coming in with a cold, treacherous half-light, added to the +illusion that made the horizon seem scarcely a length away. The barque +was labouring unsteadily, with a long westerly swell—the ghost of the +Cape Horn 'greybeards '—running under her in oily ridges. +</P> + +<P> +It needed but a bite of freshening wind to rouse the sea; at the lash +of a sudden gale the 'greybeards' would be at us again—whelming and +sweeping. Even in quiet mood they were loath to let us go north, and +we jarred and rattled, rolled, lurched, and wallowed as they hove at +us. Heave as they did, we were still able to make way on our course, +standing with yards in to the quartering wind and all plain sail on her. +</P> + +<P> +Thick weather! The horizon closed to us at a length or so ahead. But +she was moving slowly, four knots at the most, and we were well out of +the track of ships! Oh, it was all right—all right; and aft there the +Mate leaned over the poop rail with his arms squared and his head +nodding—now and then! +</P> + +<P> +As the light grew, it seemed to bring intenser cold. Jackets were not +enough; we donned coats and oilskins and stamped and stamped on the +foredeck, yawning and muttering and wishing it was five o'clock and the +'doctor' ready with the blessed coffee: the coffee that would make men +of us; vile 'hogwash' that a convict would turn his face at, but what +seemed nectar to us at daybreak, down there in fifty-five! +</P> + +<P> +By one bell the mist had grown denser, and the Mate sung out sudden and +angrily for the foghorn to be sounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Three blasts, d'ye 'ear," said the bo'sun, passing the horn up to +Dago, the look-out. "<I>Uno! ... Doo! ... Tray!</I>" (Three fingers held +up.) ... "<I>Tray</I>, ye burnt scorpion! ... An' see that ye sounds 'em +proper, or I'll come up there an' hide th' soul-case out o' ye! ... +(Cow-punchin' hoodlum! Good job I knows 'is bloomin' lingo!)" +</P> + +<P> +Now we had a tune to our early rising, a doleful tune, a tune set to +the deepening mist, the heaving sea, at dismal break of day. <I>R-r-ah! +... R-r-ah! Ra!</I> was the way it ran; a mournful bar, with windy gasps +here and there, for Dago Joe was more accustomed to a cowhorn. +</P> + +<P> +"A horn," said Welsh John suddenly. "Did 'oo hear it?" +</P> + +<P> +No one had heard. We were gathered round the galley door, all talking, +all telling the 'doctor' the best way to light a fire quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Iss</I>! A horn, I tell 'oo! ... Listen! ... Just after ours is +sounded!" +</P> + +<P> +<I>R-r-ah! ... R-r-ah! ... R-ah!</I> Joe was improving. +</P> + +<P> +We listened intently.... "There now," said John! +</P> + +<P> +Yes! Sure enough! Faint rasps answering ours. Ulrichs said three; +two, I thought! +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ye 'ear that 'orn, ye dago fiddler," shouted the bo'sun.... +"'Ere! Hup there, one of ye, an' blow a proper blast! That damn +hoodlum! Ye couldn't 'ear 'is trumpetin' at th' back of an area +railin's!" +</P> + +<P> +John went on the head; the bo'sun aft to report. +</P> + +<P> +A proper blast! The Welshman had the trick of the wheezing 'gad jet.' +... Ah! There again! ... Three blasts, right enough! ... She would +be a square rigger, running, like ourselves! ... Perhaps we were +making on her! ... The sound seemed louder.... It came from ahead! +</P> + +<P> +R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! +</P> + +<P> +<I>... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh!</I> +</P> + +<P> +The Mate was now on the alert, peering and listening. At the plain +answer to our horn, he rapped out orders. "Lower away main an' +fore-to'gal'ns'ls ... let 'em hang, an' lay aft and haul th' mains'l +up! Come aft here, one of you boys, and call th' Captain! Tell him +it's come down thick! Sharp, now!" +</P> + +<P> +I went below and roused the Old Man. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye ... all right," he said, feeling for his sea-boots. (South'ard of +the 'forties' Old Jock slept 'all standing,' as we say.) .... "Thick, +eh? ... Tell th' Mate t' keep th' horn goin'! ... A ship, ye say? ... +Running, eh? ... Aye! All right ... I'll be up...." +</P> + +<P> +I had scarcely reached the poop again before the Old Man was at my +back. "Thick, b'Goad," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Man, man! Why was +I not called before?" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate muttered something about the mist having just closed in.... +"Clear enough t' be goin' on before that," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! Where d'ye mak' this ship? Ye would see her before the +mist cam' doon, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sound that horn, forrard there!" shouted the Mate, moving off to the +gangway. "Keep that horn going, there!" +</P> + +<P> +John pumped a stirring blast.... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... +R-R-R-R-R-AH! +</P> + +<P> +We bent forward with ears strained to catch the distant note. +</P> + +<P> +... <I>R-r-r-r-eh!</I> ... At the first answering blast Old Jock raised +his head, glancing fearfully round.... <I>R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r——</I> +"Down hellum! DOWN HELLUM! DOWN," he yelled, running aft to the +wheel! "Haul yards forrard! Le'go port braces! Let 'm rip! Le'go +an' haul! ... Quick, Mist'r! Christ! What ye standin' at? ... +Ice! Ice, ye bluidy eedi't! Ice! Th' echo! Let go! LE'GO AN' HAUL! +LE'GO!" +</P> + +<P> +Ice! The Mate stood stupid for an instant—then jumped to the +waist—to the brace pins—roaring hoarse orders. "All hands on deck! +Haul away, there! All hands! On deck, men—for your lives!" +</P> + +<P> +Ice! At the dread cry we ran to the ropes and tailed on with desperate +energy! Ice! The watch below, part dressed, swarmed from house and +fo'cas'le and hauled with us—a light of terror in their eyes—the +terror that comes with stark reason—when the brain reels from restful +stupor at a trumpet of alarms! +</P> + +<P> +Ice! The decks, that so late had been quiet as the air about us, +resounded to the din of sudden action! Yards swinging forward with a +crash—blocks <I>whirring</I>—ropes hurtling from the pins—sails lifting +and thrashing to the masts—shouts and cries from the swaying haulers +at the ropes—hurried orders—and, loud over all, the raucous bellow of +the fog-horn when Dago Joe, dismayed at the confusion, pumped +furiously, <I>Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra!</I> +</P> + +<P> +... <I>Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh!</I> ... Note for note—the echo—out +of the mist! +</P> + +<P> +"Belay, all! Well, mainyards!" The order steadied us. We had time +now to look! ... There was nothing in sight! ... No towering monster +looming in our path—no breakers—no sea—no sky; nothing! Nothing but +the misty wall that veiled our danger! The Unknown! The Unseen! +</P> + +<P> +She was swinging slowly against the scend of the running swell—laying +up to the wind. Martin had the wheel and was holding the helm down, +his keen eyes watching for the lift that would mark the limit of +steering-way. The Old Man stood by the compass, bending, peering, +smiling—nosing at the keen air—his quick eyes searching the +mist—ahead—abeam—astern.... Martin eased the helm; she lay quietly +with sails edged to the wind, the long swell heaving at her—broadside +on. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a light grew out of the mist and spread out on both bows—a +luminous sheen, low down on the narrowed sea-line! The 'ice-blink'! +Cold! White! +</P> + +<P> +At the first glow the Old Man started—his lips framed to roar an +order! ... No order came! +</P> + +<P> +Quickly he saw the hopelessness of it; what was to happen was plain, +inevitable! Broad along the beam, stretching out to leeward, the great +dazzling 'ice-blink' warned him of a solid barrier, miles long, +perhaps! The barque lay to the wind, at mercy of the swell, drifting +dead to leeward at every heave! ... On the other tack, perhaps? There +was a misty gap to the south of us; no 'ice-blink' there! ... If she +could be put about? ... No, there was no chance! ... To gather speed +to put her about he would have to bear off towards the brightening +sheen! Already the roar of the swell, lashing at the base, was loud in +our ears! ... There was no room! No sea-room to wear or stay! +</P> + +<P> +"Embayed!" he said bitterly, turning his palms up! ... "All hands aft +and swing th' port boat out!" +</P> + +<P> +The port boat? The big boat? Had it come, so soon, to that? More +than one of us cast an anxious look at the broad figure of our Master +as we ran aft. He stood quite still, glaring out at the ice ring. +</P> + +<P> +"This is it, eh!" he muttered, unheeding the stir and cries of us. +"This is it—after forty year!" +</P> + +<P> +Madly we tore and knifed at the lashings, working to clear the big +boat. She was turned down on the skids (the fashion of thrifty +'limejuicers'), bound and bolted to stand the heavy weather. We were +handless, unnerved by the suddenness of it all, faulty at the task. +The roar of breaking water spurred us on.... A heave together! .... +Righted, we hooked the falls and swayed her up. The Mate looked aft +for the word. "Aye," said the Old Man. "Oot wi' her, an' try tae tow +th' heid roun'! On th' ither tack we micht——" He left the words +unfinished! Well he knew we could never drag three thousand tons +against that swell! +</P> + +<P> +A wild outcry turns our eyes forward. Dago Joe (forgotten on the +lookout) is running aft, his precious horn still slung from his +shoulders. "<I>Arretto! Arretto! Arretto!</I>" He yells as he runs. +"<I>Arretto, Capitan!</I>" waving his arms and signing to the Old Man to +stop the ship! Behind him, over the bows, we see the clear outline of +a small berg—an outflung 'calf' of the main ice! There is no time! +Nothing can be done! Small as the berg is—not the height of our lower +yards—it has weight enough to sink us, when aided by the heaving swell! +</P> + +<P> +"Quick with th' boat, there," yells the Old Man! He runs over to the +companion-way and dives below, jostling the Second Mate, who is +staggering up under a weight of biscuit bags. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment we have closed with the ice and are hammering and grinding +at the sheer glistening wall. At the first impact the boom goes with a +crash! Then fore-to'gallant mast—yards—sails—rigging—all hurtling +to the head, driving the decks in! A shelf of solid ice, tons weight +of it, crashes aboard and shatters the fore-hatch! Now there is a +grind and scream of buckling iron, as the beams give to the +strain—ring of stays and guy-ropes, parting at high tension—crash of +splintering wood! The heaving monster draws off, reels, and comes at +us again! Another blow and—— +</P> + +<P> +"'Vast lowering! Hold on! Hold on the boat there!" The Old Man, come +on deck with his treasured papers, has seen more than the wreck of the +head! He runs to the compass—a look—then casts his eyes aloft. +"Square mainyards!" His voice has the old confident ring: the ring we +know. "Square main yards! ... A hand t' th' wheel!" +</P> + +<P> +Doubting, we hang around the boat. She swings clear, all ready! The +jar of a further blow sets us staggering for foothold! What chance? +... "A hand t' th' wheel, here," roars the Old Man. Martin looks up +... goes back to his post. +</P> + +<P> +A man at the wheel again! No longer the fearful sight of the main post +deserted; no longer the jar and rattle of a handless helm! Martin's +action steadies us. What dread, when the oldest of us all stands there +grasping the spokes, waiting the order? ... We leave the swinging +boat and hurry to the braces! +</P> + +<P> +A 'chance' has come! The power of gales long since blown out is +working a way for us: the ghostly descendants of towering Cape Horn +'greybeards' have come to our aid! +</P> + +<P> +As we struck, sidling on the bows, the swell has swept our stern round +the berg. Now we are head to wind and the big foresail is flat against +the mast, straining sternward! +</P> + +<P> +It is broad day, and we see the 'calf' plainly as we drift under +stern-way apart. The gap widens! A foot—a yard—an oar's-length! +Now the wind stirs the canvas on the main—a clew lifts—the tops'ls +rustle and blow out, drawing finely! Her head still swings! +</P> + +<P> +"Foreyards! Le'go an' haul!" roars the Old Man. We are stern on to +the main ice. Already the swell—recurving from the sheer base—is +hissing and breaking about us. There is little room for sternboard. +"Le'go an' haul!" We roar a heartening chorus as we drag the standing +head yards in. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly she brings up ... gathers way ... moves ahead! The 'calf' is +dead to windward, the loom of the main ice astern and a-lee. The wind +has strengthened: in parts the mist has cleared. Out to the south'ard +a lift shows clear water. We are broad to the swell now, but sailing +free as Martin keeps her off! From under the bows the broken boom +(still tethered to us by stout guy-ropes) thunders and jars as we move +through the water. +</P> + +<P> +"Cut and clear away!" roars Old Jock. "Let her go!" +</P> + +<P> +Aye, let her go! ... We are off ... crippled an' all ... out for open +sea again! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +IN LITTLE 'SCOTLAND' +</H4> + +<P> +It was to no purpose that Lloyds' agent pointed out the convenience and +advantage of the inner port: it was as useless for the local pilot to +look grave and recall dire happenings to Captains who had elected to +effect their repairs in the outer harbour—just here, at Port William. +Old Jock's square jaw was set firm, his eyes were narrowed to a crafty +leer; he looked on everyone with unconcealed suspicion and distrust. +He was a shipmaster of the old school, 'looking after his Owners' +interest.' He had put in 'in distress' to effect repairs.... He was +being called upon to spend <I>money</I>! +</P> + +<P> +"No, no!" he said to all their reasoning. "My anchor's doon, an' here +I stoap! I've conseedered a' that ye've pit furrit! 'Convenience tae +th' toon, if supplies are needit'? (I'll no' need that mony!) ... 'Nae +distance tae bring th' workin' gang'? (I've a wheen men here mysel'!) +... 'Nae dues tae pay'? (We're jist as cheap here!) ... No, no, +Maister Fordyce! Ye can jist mak' up yeer mind on that! We'll dae a' +th' repairs oot here! I'm no' comin' in!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh weel! Jist as ye like, Captain! Jist as ye like! ... But—as +th' pilot here 'll tell ye—ye're in a verra bad poseetion if it comes +on tae blow f'ae the south-east! An' south-east 's a hard win', I'm +tellin' ye!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! Jist that! ... Weel, if it comes tae blow frae th' +south-east (I'm no much feart o' that at this time o' th' year) we're +in a guid berth tae slip anchor an' run her in tae Port Stanley. It'll +be time enough then! But I'm no' goin' in there if I can help it! ... +If I brocht her in therr"—pointing to the narrows that led to the +inner harbour—"I micht hae tae wait for a fair win' tae bring her oot, +when oor bit damage is sortit.... No, no! We'll dae fine oot here. +Smooth watter! Guid holdin' ground!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the holding ground is all right," said the pilot. "Eight fathom +... mud and stones! Good enough for anything but south or southeast." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, aye!" continued the Old Man. "We'll dae fine here.... If it +wisna' for that bowsprit bein' steeved up and th' rivets stertit in th' +bows o' her, I widna' be here at a'.... Spars? ... We can mak' a' +th' spars oorsel's; tho' I'm no' sayin' but that I'd be glad o' a spar +or twa—at a moderate cost. A moderate cost, mind ye!" +</P> + +<P> +The agent laughed. "Oh weel, Captain! We're no' exactly Jews doon +here, though they say an Aberdonian (I'm fa'e Aberdeen mysel') is th' +next thing! We can gi'e ye yeer spaurs—at a moderate cost! ... But +I'll tell ye again, Captain, ye'll lose time by stoappin' oot here. A' +this traffiking back an' furrit tae Port Stanley! Bringin' th' workmen +aff in th' mornin', an' takin' them hame at e'en! Ye'll no' get th' +smiths tae stey oan th' ship. It'll be, 'Hey, Jimmy! Whaur's ma lang +drift?' or, 'Jock, did ye bring oot th' big "Monday?"' ... an' then +naethin' 'll dae but they maun be awa' back tae th' Port, tae look for +theer tools in th' bar o' th' Stanley Airms!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, aye!" said the Old Man. "I ken them! They'll be as keen for a +dram doon here as onywhere! But we'll attend tae that. As for th' +traffiking, I've a big boat an' a wheen idle lauds therr that'll be +nane the waur o' a lang pull! ... Onyway, I'm no' goin' t' risk bein' +held up for a fair win' when th' time comes ... an' ye may tak' it that +we're no' goin' t' lose time owre th' joab! A wheen smiths, an' mebbe +a carpenter or twa, is a' I want ... an' if we can arrange wi' th' +Captain o' this schooner—ye were speakin' aboot—t' tak' a hunner' or +a hunner' an' fifty ton o' cargo ... for th' time bein'.... No! Jist +twa beams tae be cut an' strappit.... A screw-jack an' a forge or twa! +We can ... straighten them oot in their place! ... Naethin' wrang +below th' sheer strake! ... Jist plain rivettin'...." +</P> + +<P> +Talking of the repairs and their relation to the great god of Economy, +Old Jock led the way to the gangway and watched his visitors depart. +</P> + +<P> +In all he said the Old Man spoke his 'braidest' Scotch. This was +right! We had reached the Falkland Islands in safety, and what more +natural than that he should speak the language of the country? Even +the German saloon-keepers who had boarded us on arrival—to proffer +assistance in our distress—said 'aye' for yes, and 'Ach! Awa' wi' +ye'—a jocular negative! Nor did the resemblance to our 'ain countree' +end there. Port William was typical of a misty Scotch countryside: the +land about us was as bleak and home-like as a muirland in the Stewartry. +</P> + +<P> +A bare hill-side sloping to the sea, with here and there straggling +acres of cultivated land. A few wooden houses nestling in the bends +and gullies, where small streamlets ran. Uplands, bare of trees and +hedge growth, stretching away inland in a smooth coat of waving grass. +Grass, grass, grass—a sheep fank—a patch of stony hill-side—a +solitary hut, with blue smoke curling above—a misty sky-line—lowering +clouds, and the setting sun breaking through in fleeting patches. Port +William! A quiet place for anchorage after our stormy times! No ships +riding with us under the lee of the land! No sign of human life or +movement in the lonely bay! No noise! Quiet! Only the plaintive +cries of sea-birds that circled and wheeled about us, and the distant +<I>baa-ing</I> of sheep on the green hill-side! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +'No time was to be lost,' as the Old Man had said. Soon the quiet of +our lonely anchorage was broken by a din of strenuous work. The +sea-birds flew affrighted from the clang of fore-hammers and the roar +of forge fires. +</P> + +<P> +Our damage was all on the bows. The to'gallan'mast, in its fall, had +wrecked the starboard side of the fo'cas'le; the decks were smashed in; +some beams were broken, others were twisted and bent. The hull plating +had not escaped, and a big rent showed where the grinding ice had +forced the stout cat-head from its solid bed. These were minor +affairs—something might have been done to put them right without +coming to port—but the bowsprit! Ah! It was the bowsprit that had +brought us in! +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use talking," the Old Man had said when he and the Mate were +considering the damage. "That bowsprit! ... Spars? ... We could +make th' spars good; ... an' we could do a fair joab wi' th' ironwork! +... But th' bowsprit! ... No, no! We can't sail th' ship unless +we're sure o' th' head-gear! ... No use! No use talking, Mister! +We'll have t' bear up for th' Falklands, and get that put to rights!" +</P> + +<P> +If further cause were needed to justify the serious course of 'putting +in,' they had it when the carpenter reported water in the forepeak; and +it was discovered that the broken jibboom had not hammered at the bows +for nothing. No hesitation then! No talk! The course was set! +</P> + +<P> +Although the Falklands are famed as a refuge for vessels 'in distress,' +there was then no great facilities for repair. It is enough if the +ships stagger into port in time to save the lives of their crews. Port +Stanley had many such sheer hulks lying to rust and decay in the +landlocked harbour. Good ships that had cleared from the Channel in +seaworthiness; crossed the Line with a boastful "<I>All well!</I>" to a +homeward-bounder; steered south into the 'roaring forties'—to meet +disaster in fire, or wind, or sea, and falter into the Falklands with +the boats swung out! +</P> + +<P> +There was then no firm of ship repairers on the Islands. The most Mr. +Fordyce could do for us was to find workmen, and a schooner to take +part of our cargo and lighten us sufficiently to get at the leaky +rivets. Old Jock had to set up as a master shipwright and superintend +the repairs himself. And who better? Had he not set Houston's leg as +straight as a Gilmorehill Professor could? He was the man; and there +was no sign of hesitation when he got out his piece of chalk and made +marks (as many and as mysterious as a Clydeside gaffer's) on the +damaged ironwork! Such skilled labour as he could get—'smiths' from +the sheep camps (handy men, who were by turns stonemasons or +woolpackers or ironworkers)—were no great hands at ship-work; but the +Old Man, with his rough, chalked sketches, could make things plain; he +had, too, the great advantage of knowing the Islanders' language and +its proper application to the ordering of 'wis'like' men! What might +have been put elsewhere as, "What th' hell sort of work do you call +this?" he translated to, "Man, man, Jock Steel! Could ye no' pit a +fairer bend oan that knee?" ... Jock (who would have thrown down his +tools, and "on with his jacket" at the first) would perhaps turn red at +the kindlier reproof, mutter "Well, well," and have another try at the +stubborn knee. +</P> + +<P> +It was slow work, for all the din and clatter. Forge fires are +devilish in the hands of an unskilled blower; rivets break and twist +and get chilled when the striking is squint and irregular; iron is +tough and stubborn when leverage is misapplied. There were +difficulties. (Difficulties that wee Jonny Docherty, a Partick rivet +'b'ye,' would have laughed at!) The difficulty of strapping cut beams +to make them span their former length; the difficulty of small rivets +and big holes, of small holes and big rivets ... the sheer despair when +sworn measurements go unaccountably and mysteriously wrong in practice. +</P> + +<P> +All difficulties! Difficulties to be met and overcome! +</P> + +<P> +Every one of us had a turn at the ironwork. There was odd work that we +could do while the 'smiths' were heating and hammering at the more +important sections. We made a feeble show, most of us; but Joe Granger +gained honour in suggesting ways and showing how things were done. It +was the time of Granger's life. He was not even a good sailorman. His +steering was pitiful. Didn't Jones have to show him how the royal +buntlines led? What did Martin say about the way he passed a +head-earring? A poor sailorman! ... Yet here he was: bossing us +around; Able Seamen carrying tools to him; Old Man listening quite +decently to his suggestions—even the hard-case Mate (who knew Granger, +if anyone did) not above passing a word now and then! ... And all +because Granger had worked in the Union Ironworks at 'Frisco. At first +I am sure it was a <I>holder-on</I> he told us he had been, but before our +job had gone far it was a whilom <I>foreman shipwright</I> who told us what +was to be done! ... If Armstrong, the carpenter, had not taken up a +firm stand when it came to putting in the deck, there would have been +hints that we had a former <I>under-manager</I> among us! It was the time +of Joe's life, and the bo'sun could only chuckle and grin and wag his +head in anticipation of 'proper sailor-work' on the mast and spars. +</P> + +<P> +It was good for us brassbounders to lie at Port William, where there +was little but the work in progress to interest us. In the half-deck +we were full of ship repairs. Little else was talked about when we +were below. Each of us carried a small piece of chalk, all ready to +make rough drawings to explain our ideas. We chalked on the walls, the +table, the deck, the sea-chests, lines and cross-lines, and bends and +knees—no matter what, so long as there were plenty of round "O's" to +show where the rivets were to go. We explained to one another the +mysteries of ship construction, talked loftily of breasthooks and sheer +strakes, and stringers and scantlings ... and were as wise after the +telling! That was while the ironwork repairs were in progress. In a +week or more we were spar-makers. Jock Steel and his mates put down +their drifts and hammers, and took up adzes and jack-planes. We were +getting on! We had no time for anyone who drew sketches of riveting. +It was 'striking cambers' and 'fairing' and 'tapering' now, and Joe +Granger got a cool reception when he came along to the half-deck after +work was over for the day. Poor Joe had fallen from his high place! +With the bowsprit hove down and securely strapped and riveted, and the +last caulking blow dealt at the leaky doubling, his services became of +small account. No one in the fo'cas'le would listen any longer to his +tales of structural efficiency. There was no spar-making in the Union +Ironworks at 'Frisco. Joe had to shut up, and let Martin and the +bo'sun instruct the ship's company in the art of masting and +rigging—illustrated by match-sticks and pipe-stems! +</P> + +<P> +There were pleasant intervals to our work on board—days when we rowed +the big boat through the Narrows to Port Stanley and idled about the +'town,' while the Old Man and Mr. Fordyce were transacting business +(under good conditions) in the bar-parlour of the Stanley Arms. We +made many friends on these excursions. The Falklanders have warm +hearts, and down there the Doric is the famous passport. We were +welcome everywhere, though Munro and I had to do most of the talking. +It was something for the Islanders to learn how the northern Scottish +crops had fared (eighteen months ago), or 'whatna'' catch of herrings +fell to the Loch Fyne boats (last season but one). +</P> + +<P> +There was no great commercial activity in the 'town.' The '<I>Great +Britian</I>' hulk, storehouse for the wool, was light and high in the +water. The sawmill hulks were idle for want of lumber to be dressed. +It was the slack time, they told us; the slack time before the rush of +the wool-shearing. In a week, or a month at the most, the sheep would +be ready for the shears. Then—ah, then!—Wully Ramsey (who had a head +for figures) would be brought forward, and, while his wind held out, +would hurl figures and figures at us, all proving that 'Little +Scotland,' for its size, was a 'ferr wunner' at wool production. +</P> + +<P> +The work of the moment was mostly at breaking up the wreck of the +<I>Glenisla</I>, a fine four-masted barque that had come in 'with the flames +as high as th' foreyard,' and had been abandoned as a total wreck. Her +burnt-out shell lay beached in the harbour, and the plates were being +drifted out, piece by piece, to make sheep tanks and bridge work. It +was here that the Old Man—'at a moderate cost, mind ye'—picked up a +shell-plate and knees and boom irons to make good our wants. A spar, +too (charred, but sound), that we tested by all the canons of +carpentry—tasting, smelling, twanging a steel at one end and listening +for the true, sound note at the other. It was ours, after hard +bargaining, and Mason, the foreman wrecker, looked ill-pleased with his +price when we rolled the timber down to tide mark, launched, and towed +it away. +</P> + +<P> +Pleasant times! But with the setting up of the new boom the Old Man +was anxious to get under weigh. The to'gallant mast could wait till +the fine weather of the 'trades.' We were sound and seaworthy again! +Outside the winds were fair and southerly. We had no excuse to lie +swinging at single anchor. Jock Steel and his mates got their +blessing, our 'lawin'' was paid and acquitted, and on a clear November +morning we shook out the topsails and left Port William to the circling +sea-birds. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE FLAG +</H4> + +<P> +A black, threatening sky, with heavy banks of indigo-tinted clouds +massed about the sea-line. A sickly, greenish light high up in the +zenith. Elsewhere the gloom of warring elements broken only by flashes +of sheet lightning, vivid but noiseless. The sea, rolling up from the +sou'-west in a long glassy swell, was ruffled here and there by the +checks of a fitful breeze. It needed not a deadly low barometer to +tell us of a coming storm; we saw it in the tiers of hard-edged +fearsome clouds, breaking up and re-forming, bank upon bank, in endless +figurations. Some opposing force was keeping the wind in check; there +was conflict up there, for, though masses of detached cloud were +breaking away and racing o'er the zenith, we held but a fitful gusty +breeze, and our barque, under low sail, was lurching uneasily for want +of a steadying wind. +</P> + +<P> +It was a morning of ill-omen, and the darkling sky but reflected the +gloom of our faces; our thoughts were in keeping with the day, for we +had lost a shipmate, one among us was gone, Old Martin was dead. +</P> + +<P> +He died sometime in the middle watch, no one knew when. He was awake +when the watch came below at midnight, for Welsh John had given him +matches for his pipe before turning in. That was the last, for when +they were called at four, Martin was cold and quiet. There was no +trouble on his face, no sign of pain or suffering. Belike the old man +had put his pipe aside, and finding no shipmate awake to 'pass the +word,' had gently claimed his Pilot. +</P> + +<P> +There was no great show of grief when it was known. Perhaps a bit +catch in the voice when speaking of it, an unusual gentleness in our +manner towards one another, but no resemblance of mourning, no shadow +of woe. His was no young life untimely ended, there was no accident to +be discussed, no blame to be apportioned. It was just that old lamp +had flickered out at last. Ours was a sense of loss, we had lost a +shipmate. There would be another empty bunk in the fo'cas'le, a hand +less at the halyards, a name passed over at muster; we would miss the +voice of experience that carried so much weight in our affairs—an +influence was gone. +</P> + +<P> +At daybreak we stood around to have a last look at the strong old face +we had known so long. The sailmaker was sewing him up in the clew of +an old topsail, a sailorly shroud that Martin would have chosen. The +office was done gently and soberly, as a shipmate has a right to +expect. A few pieces of old chain were put in to weight him down, all +ship-shape and sailor-fashion, and when it was done we laid him out on +the main hatch with the Flag he had served cast over him. +</P> + +<P> +"There goes a good sailorman," said one of the crowd; "'e knowed 'is +work," said another. +</P> + +<P> +"A good sailorman—'e knowed 'is work!" That was Martin's +epitaph—more, he would not want. +</P> + +<P> +His was no long illness. A chill had settled into bronchitis. Martin +had ever a fine disregard for weatherly precautions; he had to live up +to the name of a 'hard case.' Fits of coughing and a high temperature +came on him, and he was ordered below. At first he was taken aft to a +spare room, but the unaccustomed luxury of the cabin so told on him +that when he begged to be put in the fo'cas'le again, the Old Man let +him go. There he seemed to get better. He had his shipmates to talk +to; he was even in a position to rebuke the voice of youth and +inexperience when occasion required, though with but a shadow of his +former vehemence. Though he knew it would hurt him, he would smoke his +pipe; it seemed to afford him a measure of relief. The Old Man did +what he could for him, and spent more time in the fo'cas'le than most +masters would have done. Not much could be done, for a ship is +ill-fitted for an ailing man. At times there were relapses; times when +his breathing would become laboured. Sometimes he became delirious and +raved of old ships, and storms, and sails, then he would recover, and +even seemed to get better. Then came the end. The tough old frame +could no longer stand the strain, and he passed off quietly in the +silence of middle night. +</P> + +<P> +He was an old man, none knew how old. The kindly clerks in the +shipping office had copied from one discharge note to the other when +'signing him on,' and he stood at fifty-eight on our articles; at +sixty, he would never have got a 'sight.' He talked of old ships long +since vanished from the face of the waters; if he had served on these +he must have been over seventy years. Sometimes, but only to favoured +shipmates, he would tell of his service aboard a Yankee cruiser when +Fort Sumter fell, but he took greater pride in having been bo'sun of +the famous <I>Sovereign of the Seas</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"Three hundred an' seventy miles," he would say; "that wos 'er day's +travellin'! That's wot Ah calls sailin' a ship. None o' yer damn +'clew up an' clew down,' but give 'er th' ruddy canvas an'—let 'er go, +boys!" +</P> + +<P> +He was of the old type, bred in a hard sea-school. One of his boasts +was that he had sailed for five years in packet ships, 'an' never saw +th' pay table.' He would 'sign on' at Liverpool, giving his +boarding-master a month's advance note for quittance. At New York he +would desert, and after a bout ashore would sail for Liverpool in a new +ship. There was a reason for this seeming foolish way of doing. +</P> + +<P> +"None o' yer slavin' at harbour jobs an' cargo work; not fer me, me +sons! Ah wos a sailorman an' did only sailorin' jobs. Them wos th' +days w'en sailormen wos men, an' no ruddy cargo-wrastlin', coal-diggin' +scallywags, wot they be now!" +</P> + +<P> +A great upholder of the rights of the fo'cas'le, he looked on the Mates +as his natural enemies, and though he did his work, and did it well, he +never let pass an opportunity of trying a Mate's temper by outspoken +criticism of the Officers' way of handling ship or sail. Apprentices +he bore with, though he was always suspicious of a cabin influence. +</P> + +<P> +That was Martin, our gallantly truculent, overbearing Old Martin; and, +as we looked on the motionless figure outlined by folds of the Flag, we +thought with regret of the time we took a pleasure in rousing him to a +burst of sailorly invective. Whistling about the decks, or flying past +him in the rigging with a great shaking of the shrouds when the 'crowd' +was laying aloft to hand sail. "Come on, old 'has-been'!" Jones once +shouted to him as he clambered over the futtock shrouds. Martin was +furious. +</P> + +<P> +"Has-been," he shouted in reply. "Aye, mebbe a 'has-been,' but w'en ye +comes to my time o' life, young cock, ye can call yerself a +'never-bloody-wos'!" +</P> + +<P> +Well! His watch was up, and when the black, ragged clouds broke away +from the sou'-west and roused the sea against us, we would be one less +to face it, and he would have rest till the great call of 'all hands'; +rest below the heaving water that had borne him so long. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Surely there is nothing more solemn than a burial at sea. Ashore there +are familiar landmarks, the nearness of the haunts of men, the +neighbourly headstones, the great company of the dead, to take from the +loneliness of the grave. Here was nothing but a heaving ship on the +immensity of mid-ocean, an open gangway, a figure shrouded in folds of +a Flag, and a small knot of bare-headed men, bent and swaying to meet +the lurches of the vessel, grouped about the simple bier. The wind had +increased and there was an ominous harping among the backstays. The +ship was heaving unsteadily, and it was with difficulty we could keep a +balance on the wet, sloping deck. Overhead the sky was black with the +wrack of hurrying clouds, and the sullen grey water around us was +already white-topped by the bite of freshening wind. +</P> + +<P> +"I am th' Resurrection an' the Life, saith th' Loard"—Martin, laid on +a slanted hatch, was ready for the road, and we were mustered around +the open gangway. The Old Man was reading the service in his homely +Doric, and it lost nothing of beauty or dignity in the +translation—"an' whosoever liveth an' believeth in me sall never die." +He paused and glanced anxiously to windward. There was a deadly check +in the wind, and rain had commenced to fall in large, heavy drops. "A +hand t' th' tops'l halyards, Mister," quietly, then continuing, "I know +that my Redeemer liveth, an' that He sail stand at th' latter day upon +th' airth. An' though ... yet in my flesh sail I see Goad...." +Overhead, the sails were thrashing back and fore, for want of the +breeze—still fell the rain, lashing heavily now on us and on the +shrouded figure, face up, that heeded it not. +</P> + +<P> +Hurriedly the Old Man continued the service—"Foreasmuch as it hath +pleased Almighty Goad of his gre—at merrcy t' take unto Himself th' +so-al of oor de-ar brother, here departed, we therefore commit he's +boady t' th' deep ... when th' sea sall give up her daid, an' th' life +of th' worl-d t' come, through oor Loard, Jesus Christ." +</P> + +<P> +At a sign, the Second Mate tilted the hatch, the two youngest boys held +the Flag, and Martin, slipping from its folds, took the water feet +first in a sullen, almost noiseless, plunge. +</P> + +<P> +"Oor Father which airt in heaven"—with bent head the Old Man finished +the service. He was plainly ill at ease. He felt that the weather was +'making' on him, that the absence from the post of command (the narrow +space between wheel and binnacle) was ill-timed. Still, his sense of +duty made him read the service to a finish, and it was with evident +relief he closed the book, saying, "Amen! Haul th' mains'l up, Mister, +an' stand by t' square mainyards! ... Keep th' watch on deck; it's +'all hands'—thon," pointing to the black murk spreading swiftly over +the weather sky. +</P> + +<P> +We dragged the wet and heavy mains'l to the yard and stood by, waiting +for the wind. Fitful gusts came, driving the rain in savage, searching +bursts; then would come a deadly lull, and the rain beating on us, +straight from above—a pitiless downpour. It was bitter cold, we were +drenched and depressed as we stood shivering at the braces, and we +wished for the wind to come, to get it over; anything would be better +than this inaction. +</P> + +<P> +A gust came out of the sou'-west, and we had but squared the yards when +we heard the sound of a master wind on the water. +</P> + +<P> +Shrieking with fury long withheld, the squall was upon us. We felt the +ship stagger to the first of the blast; a furious plunge and she was +off—smoking through the white-lashed sea, feather-driven before the +gale. It could not last; no fabric would stand to such a race. "Lower +away tops'l halyards!" yelled the Old Man, his voice scarce audible in +the shrilling of the squall. The bo'sun, at the halyards, had but +started the yard when the sheet parted; instant, the sail was in +ribbons, thrashing savagely adown the wind. It was the test for the +weakest link, and the squall had found it, but our spars were safe to +us, and, eased of the press, we ran still swiftly on. We set about +securing the gear, and in action we gave little thought to the event +that had marked our day; but there was that in the shriek of wind in +the rigging, in the crash of sundered seas under the bows, in the cries +of men at the downhauls and the thundering of the torn canvas that sang +fitting Requiem for the passing of our aged mariner. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +DOLDRUMS +</H4> + +<P> +"Lee fore-brace!" +</P> + +<P> +Mister M'Kellar stepped from the poop and cast off the brace coils with +an air of impatience. It wanted but half an hour of 'knocking off +time'—and that half-hour would be time enough, for his watch to finish +the scraping of the deck-house—but the wind waits on no man, and +already the weather clew of the mainsail was lifting lazily to a shift. +It was hard to give up the prospect of having the house all finished +and ship-shape before the Mate came on deck (and then trimming yards +and sail after the <I>work</I> was done); but here was the wind working +light into the eastward, and the sails nearly aback, and any minute +might bring the Old Man on deck to inquire, with vehemence, "What the +—— somebody was doing with the ship?" There was nothing else for it; +the house would have to stand. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>T—'tt</I>, lee-fore-brace, the watch there!" Buckets and scrapers were +thrown aside, the watch mustered at the braces, and the yards were +swung slowly forward, the sails lifting to a faint head air. +</P> + +<P> +This was the last of the south-east trades, a clean-running breeze that +had carried us up from 20° S., and brace and sheet blocks, rudely +awakened from their three weeks' rest, creaked a long-drawn protest to +the failing wind; ropes, dry with disuse, ran stiffly over the sheaves, +and the cries of the men at the braces added the human note to a chorus +of ship sounds that marked the end of steady sailing weather. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>He—o—ro</I>, round 'm in, me sons; +<I>ho—io—io</I>—lay-back-an'-get-yer-muscle-up-fer ghostin' through th' +doldrums!" Roused by the song (broad hints and deep-sea pleasantries) +of the chanteyman, the Old Man came on deck, and paced slowly up and +down the poop, whistling softly for wind, and glancing expectantly +around the horizon. Whistle as he might, there was no wisp of stirring +cloud, no ruffling of the water, to meet his gaze, and already the sea +was glassing over, deserted by the wind. Soon what airs there were +died away, leaving us flat becalmed, all signs of movement vanished +from the face of the ocean, and we lay, mirrored sharply in the +windless, silent sea, under the broad glare of an equatorial sun. +</P> + +<P> +For a space of time we were condemned to a seaman's purgatory; we had +entered the 'doldrums,' that strip of baffling weather that lies +between the trade winds. We would have some days of calm and heavy +rains, sudden squalls and shifting winds, and a fierce overhead sun; +and through it all there would be hard labour for our crew (weak and +short-handed as we were), incessant hauling of the heavy yards, and +trimming of sail. Night or day, every faint breath of wind a-stirring, +every shadow on the water, must find our sail in trim for but a flutter +of the canvas that would move us on; any course with north in it would +serve. "Drive her or drift her," by hard work only could we hope to +win into the steady trade winds again, into the gallant sailing weather +when you touch neither brace nor sheet from sunset to sunrise. +</P> + +<P> +Overhead the sails hung straight from the head-ropes, with not even a +flutter to send a welcome draught to the sweltering deck below. +Everywhere was a smell of blistering paint and molten pitch, for the +sun, all day blazing on our iron sides, had heated the hull like a +furnace wall. Time and again we sluiced the decks, but still pitch +oozed from the gaping seams to blister our naked feet, and the moisture +dried from the scorched planking almost as quickly as we could draw the +water. We waited for relief at sundown, and hoped for a tropical +downpour to put us to rights. +</P> + +<P> +Far to the horizon the sea spread out in a glassy stillness, broken +only by an occasional movement among the fish. A widening ring would +mark a rise—followed by the quick, affrighted flutter of a shoal of +flying fish; then the dolphin, darting in eager pursuit, the sun's rays +striking on their glistening sides at each leap and flurry. A few +sharp seconds of glorious action, then silence, and the level sea +stretching out unbroken to the track of the westing sun. +</P> + +<P> +Gasping for a breath of cooler air, we watched the sun go down, but +there was no sign of wind, no promise of movement in the faint, vapoury +cirrhus that attended his setting. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Ten days of calms (blazing sun or a torrent of rain) and a few faint +airs in the night time—and we had gained but a hundred miles. 'Our +smart passage,' that we had hoped for when winds were fair and fresh, +was out of question; but deep-sea philosophy has a counter for every +occasion, and when the wind headed us or failed, someone among us would +surely say, "Well, wot's th' odds, anyway? More bloomin' days, more +bloomin' dollars, ain't it?" Small comfort this to the Old Man, who +was now in the vilest of tempers, and spent his days in cursing the +idle steersman, and his nights in quarrelling with the Mates about the +trim. If the yards were sharp up, it would be, "What are ye thinkin' +about, Mister? Get these yards braced in, an' look damn smart about +it!" If they were squared, nothing would do but they must be braced +forward, where the sails hung straight down, motionless, as before. +Everything and everybody was wrong, and the empty grog bottles went +'<I>plomp</I>' out of the stern ports with unusual frequency. When we were +outward bound, the baffling winds that we met off Cape Horn found him +calm enough; they were to be expected in that quarter, and in the stir +and action of working the ship in high winds, he could forget any +vexation he might have felt; but this was different, there was the +delay at the Falklands, and here was a further check to the passage—a +hundred miles in ten days—provisions running short, grass a foot long +on the counter, and still no sign of wind. There would be no +congratulatory letter from the owners at the end of this voyage, no +kindly commending phrase that means so much to a shipmaster. Instead +it would be, "We are at a loss to understand why you have not made a +more expeditious passage, considering that the <I>Elsinora</I>, which +sailed," etc., etc. It is always a fair wind in Bothwell Street! It +was maddening to think of. "Ten miles a day!" Old Jock stamped up and +down the poop, snarling at all and sundry. To the steersman it was, +"Blast ye, what are ye lookin' round for? Keep yer eye on th' royals, +you!" The Mates fared but little better. "Here, Mister," he would +shout; "what's th' crowd idlin' about for? Can't ye find no work t' +do? D'ye want me t' come and roust them around? It isn't much use o' +me keepin' a dog, an' havin' t' bark myself!" +</P> + +<P> +It was a trying time. If the Old Man 'roughed' the Mates, the Mates +'roughed' us, and rough it was. All hands were 'on the raw,' and +matters looked ugly between the men and Officers, and who knows what +would have happened, had not the eleventh day brought the wind. +</P> + +<P> +It came in the middle watch, a gentle air, that lifted the canvas and +set the reef points drumming and dancing at each welcome flutter, and +all our truculence and ill-temper vanished with the foam bubbles that +rose under our moving fore-foot. +</P> + +<P> +The night had fallen dark and windless as any, and the first watch held +a record for hauling yards and changing sheets. "'Ere ye are, boys," +was the call at eight bells. "Out ye comes, an' swigs them b——y +yards round; windmill tatties, an' th' Old Man 'owlin' like a dancin' +—— dervish on th' lid!" The Old Man had been at the bottle, and was +more than usually quarrelsome; two men were sent from the wheel for +daring to spit over the quarter, and M'Kellar was on a verge of tears +at some coarse-worded aspersion on his seamanship. The middle watch +began ill. When the wind came we thought it the usual fluke that would +last but a minute or two, and then, "mains'l up, an' square mainyards, +ye idle hounds!" But no, three bells, four bells, five, the wind still +held, the water was ruffling up to windward, the ship leaning +handsomely; there was the welcome heave of a swell running under. +</P> + +<P> +So the watch passed. There were no more angry words from the poop. +Instead, the Old Man paced to and fro, rubbing his hands, in high good +humour, and calling the steersman "m' lad" when he had occasion to con +the vessel. After seeing that every foot of canvas was drawing, he +went below, and the Second Mate took his place on the weather side, +thought things over, and concluded that Old Jock wasn't such a bad +sort, after all. We lay about the decks, awaiting further orders. +None came, and we could talk of winds and passages, or lie flat on our +backs staring up at the gently swaying trucks, watching the soft clouds +racing over the zenith; there would be a spanking breeze by daylight. +A bell was struck forward in the darkness, and the 'look-out' chanted a +long "Awl—'s well!" +</P> + +<P> +All was, indeed, well; we had picked up the north-east trades. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ON SUNDAY +</H4> + +<P> +Sunday is the day when ships are sailed in fine style. On week days, +when the round of work goes on, a baggy topsail or an ill-trimmed yard +may stand till sundown, till the <I>work</I> be done, but Sunday is sacred +to keen sailing; a day of grace, when every rope must be a-taut-o, and +the lifts tended, and the Mates strut the weather poop, thinking at +every turn of suitable manoeuvres and sail drill that will keep the +sailormen from wearying on this, their Day of Rest. +</P> + +<P> +On a fine Sunday afternoon we lay at ease awaiting the Mate's next +discovery in the field of progress. She was doing well, six knots or +seven, every stitch of sail set and drawing to a steady wind. From +under the bows came the pleasing <I>thrussh</I> of the broken water, from +aloft the creak of block and cordage and the sound of wind against the +canvas. For over an hour we had been sweating at sheets and halyards, +the customary Sunday afternoon service, and if the <I>Florence</I>, of +Glasgow, wasn't doing her best it was no fault of ours. +</P> + +<P> +Now it was, "That'll do, the watch!" and we were each following our +Sunday beat. +</P> + +<P> +Spectacled and serious, 'Sails' was spelling out the advertisements on +a back page of an old <I>Home Notes</I>; the two Dutchmen were following his +words with attentive interest. The Dagos, after the manner of their +kind, were polishing up their knives, and the 'white men' were brushing +and airing their 'longshore togs,' in readiness for a day that the +gallant breeze was bringing nearer. A scene of peaceful idling. +</P> + +<P> +"As shair's daith, he's gotten his e'e on that fore-tops'l sheet. Ah +telt ye; Ah telt ye!" Houston was looking aft. "Spit oan yer hauns, +lauds! He's seen it. We're gaun tae ha'e anither bit prayer for th' +owners!" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate had come off the poop, and was standing amidships staring +steadily aloft. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep 'oor eyes off that tops'l sheet, I tell 'oo," said Welsh John +angrily. "He can't see it unless he comes forra'd; if he sees 'oo +lookin', it's forra'd he'll be, soon, indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +There were perhaps a couple of links of slack in the tops'l sheet, a +small matter, but quite enough to call for the watch tackle—on a +Sunday. The crisis passed; it was a small matter on the main that had +called him down, and soon a 'prentice boy was mounting the rigging with +ropeyarns in his hand, to tell the buntlines what he thought of +them—and of the Mate. +</P> + +<P> +Bo'sun Hicks was finishing off a pair of 'shackles,' sailor handles for +Munro's sea-chest—a simple bit of recreation for a Sunday afternoon. +They were elaborate affairs of four stranded 'turks-heads' and double +rose knots, and showed several distinct varieties of 'coach whipping.' +One that was finished was being passed round an admiring circle of +shipmates, and Hicks, working at the other, was feigning a great +indifference to their criticisms of his work. +</P> + +<P> +"Di—zy, Di—zy, gimme yer awnswer, do," he sang with feeling, as he +twisted the pliant yarns. +</P> + +<P> +"Mind ye, 'm not sayin' as them ain't fine shackles"—Granger was ever +the one to strike a jarring note—"As fine a shackles as ever I see; +but there was a Dutchman, wot I was shipmates with in th' +<I>Ruddy-mantus</I>, o' London, as <I>could</I> turn 'em out! Wire 'earts, 'e +made 'em, an' stuffin', an' made up o' round sinnet an' dimon' +'itchin'! Prime! W'y! Look a here! If ye was t' see one ov 'is +shackles on th' hend ov a chest—all painted up an' smooth like—ye +couldn't 'elp a liftin' ov it, jest t' try th' grip; an' it 'ud come +nat'ral t' th' 'and, jes' like a good knife. Them wos shackles as 'e +made, an'——" +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, yus! Shackles, wos they? An' them ain't no shackles wot 'm +a-finishin' of? No bloomin' fear! Them's garters f'r bally dancers, +ain't they? Or nose rings for Sullimans, or ——, or ——. 'Ere!" +Hicks threw aside the unfinished shackle and advanced threateningly on +his critic. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ere! 'Oo th' 'ell are ye gettin' at, anywye? D'ye siy as I cawn't +make as good a shackles as any bloomin' Dutchman wot ever said <I>yaw</I> +f'r yes? An' yer <I>Ruddy-mantus</I>, o' London? I knows yer +<I>Ruddy-bloomin-mantus</I>, o' London! Never 'ad a sailorman acrost 'er +fo'cas'le door! Men wot knowed their work wouldn't sail in 'er, +anyhow, an' w'en she tided out at Gravesen', all th' stiffs out o' th' +'ard-up boardin'-'ouses wos windin' 'er bloomin' keeleg up! +<I>Ruddymantus</I>? 'Er wot 'ad a bow like the side o' 'n 'ouse—comin' up +th' Mersey Channel a-shovin' th' sea afore 'er, an' makin' 'igh water +at Liverpool two hours afore th' Halmanack! That's yer <I>Ruddy-mantus</I>! +An' wot th' 'ell d'you know 'bout sailorizin', anywye? Yer never wos +in a proper ship till ye come 'ere, on a dead 'un's discharge, an' ye +couldn't put dimon' 'itchin' on a broom 'andle, if it wos t' get ye a +pension!" +</P> + +<P> +Here was a break to our peaceful Sunday afternoon; nothing short of a +round or two could set matters fair after such an insult to a man's +last ship! +</P> + +<P> +Someone tried to pacify the indignant bo'sun. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ere, bo'sun! Wot's about it if 'e did know a blanky Dutchman wot +made shackles? Them o' yourn's good enough. I don't see nuthin' th' +matter wi' them!" +</P> + +<P> +"No—no! A-course ye don't, 'cos ye'r like that b——y Granger there, +ye knows damn all 'bout sailorizin' anywye! Didn't ye 'ear 'im say as +I couldn't make shackles?" +</P> + +<P> +A chorus of denials, a babel of confused explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"A-course 'e did," shouted the maker of shackles. "'E sed as I didn't +know 'ow t' work round sennit an' dimon' 'itchin', as I wos never in a +proper ship afore, as 'e knowed a bloomin' Dutchman wot could make +better shackles nor me; sed as 'ow my shackles worn't fit f'r a +grip——" +</P> + +<P> +"'Ere! 'Ere!! bo'sun—I never sed nuthin' ov th' kind!" The +unfortunate Granger was bowing to the blast. "Wot I sed wos, 'ow them +was good shackles; as fine a shackles as ever I see—an' I wos only +tellin' my mates 'ere 'bout a Dutchman wot was in th' <I>Ruddymanthus</I> +along o' me as could make 'em as smooth to the 'and——" +</P> + +<P> +"An' wot's the matter wi' them?" Hicks picked up the discarded shackle +and threw it at Granger, striking him smartly on the chest. "Ain't +them smooth enough for yer lubberly 'an's, ye long-eared son of a——" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Fore-tops'l sheet, the watch there!!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate had seen the slack links and the row in progress at the same +moment. The order came in time; strife was averted. +</P> + +<P> +Three sulky pulls at a tackle on the sheets, a tightening of the +braces, then: "That'll do, the watch there! Coil down and put away the +tackle!" Again the gathering at the fore-hatch. Hicks picked up his +work and resumed the twisting of the yarns. +</P> + +<P> +A great knocking out and refilling of pipes. +</P> + +<P> +"'Bout that 'ere Dutchman, Granger? 'Im wot ye wos shipmates with." +</P> + +<P> +Granger glanced covertly at the bo'sun. There was no sign of further +hostilities; he was working the yarns with a great show of industry, +and was whistling dolefully the while. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, 'e worn't a proper Dutchman, neither," he began pleasantly; "'im +bein' married on a white woman in Cardiff, wot 'ad a shop in Bute Road. +See? Th' Ole Man o' th' <I>Ruddymanthus</I>, 'e wos a terror on +sailorizin'——" Granger paused. +</P> + +<P> +Again a squint at the bo'sun. There was no sign, save that the +whistling had ceased, and the lips had taken a scornful turn. "'E wos +a terror on sailorizin', an' w'en we left Sydney f'r London, 'e said as +'ow 'e'd give two pun' fer th' best pair o' shackles wot 'is men could +make. There worn't many o' us as wor 'ands at shackles, an' there wor +only th' Dutchman an' a white man in it—a Cockney 'e wos, name o' +Linnet——" +</P> + +<P> +The bo'sun was staring steadily at the speaker, who added hastily, "'an +a damn good feller 'e wos, too, one o' th' best I ever wos shipmates +with; 'e wos a prime sailorman—there worn't many as could teach 'im +anythin'——" +</P> + +<P> +Bo'sun had resumed work, and was again whistling. +</P> + +<P> +"It lay a-tween 'im an' this 'ere Dutchman. All the w'yage they wos at +it. They wos in diff'rent watches, an' th' other fellers wos allus +a-settin' 'em up. It would be, ''Ere, Dutchy, you min' yer eye. +Linnet, 'e's got a new turn o' threads jes' below th' rose knots'; or, +'Look-a-here, Linnet, me son, that Dutchman's puttin' in glossy beads, +an' 'e's waxin' 'is ends wi' stuff wot th' stooard giv' 'im.' The +watches wos takin' sides. 'Linnet's th' man,' says th' Mate's watch. +'Dutchy, he's th' fine 'and at sailorizin',' says th' starbowlines. +Worn't takin' no sides meself"—a side glance at the bo'sun—"me bein' +'andy man along o' th' carpenter, an' workin' all day." +</P> + +<P> +The bo'sun put away his unfinished work, and, lighting his pipe—a sign +of satisfaction—drew nearer to the group. +</P> + +<P> +"Off th' Western Islands they finished their jobs," continued Granger +(confidently, now that the bo'sun had lit a pipe and was listening as a +shipmate ought). "They painted 'em, an' 'ung 'em up t' dry. Fine they +looked, dark green, an' th' rose knots all w'ite. Dutchy's shackles +wos werry narrer; worn't made f'r a sailorman's 'and at all, but 'e +knowed wot e' wos a-doin' of, for th' Ole Man wos one o' them dandy +blokes wot sails out o' London; 'an's like a lidye's 'e 'ad, an' w'en +they takes their shackles aft, 'e cottons t' Dutchy's at onest. 'Now, +them's wot I calls shackles, Johnson, me man,' sez 'e. 'Jest fits me +'and like a glove,' 'e sez, 'oldin' ov 'em up, an' lettin' 'em fall +back an' forrard acrost 'is wrist. 'Linnet's is too broad,' 'e sez. +'Good work, hexellint work,' 'e sez, 'but too broad for th' 'ands.' +Linnet, 'e sed as 'ow 'e made shackles for sailormen's 'ands; sed 'e +didn't 'old wi' Captains 'andlin' their own sea-chests, but it worn't +no use—Dutchy got th' two quid, an' th' stooard got cramp ov 'is 'ands +hevery time 'e took out th' Ole Man's chest ov a mornin'. An' th' Mate +giv' Linnet five bob an' an ole pair o' sea-boots f'r 'is pair, an' +cheap they wos, for Linnet, 'e wos a man wot knowed 'is work." +</P> + +<P> +"A Mate's th' best judge ov a sailorman's work, anywye," said the +bo'sun pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Im? 'E wor a good judge, too," said the wily Granger. "'E said as +'ow Linnet's wos out-an-out th' best pair. I knowed they wos, for them +Dutchmen ain't so 'andy at double rose knots as a white man!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! Sure they ain't!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A LANDFALL +</H4> + +<P> +In the dark of the morning a dense fog had closed around us, shutting +in our horizon when we had most need of a clear outlook. We had +expected to sight the Lizard before dawn to pick up a Falmouth pilot at +noon, to be anchored in the Roads by nightfall—we had it all planned +out, even to the man who was to stand the first anchor-watch—and now, +before the friendly gleam of the Lizard Lights had reached us, was +fog—damp, chilling, dispiriting, a pall of white, clammy vapour that +no cunning of seamanship could avail against. +</P> + +<P> +Denser it grew, that deep, terrifying wall that shut us off, shipmate +from shipmate. Overhead, only the black shadow of the lower sails +loomed up; forward, the ship was shrouded ghostly, unreal. Trailing +wreaths of vapour passed before and about the side-lamps, throwing back +their glare in mockery of the useless rays. All sense of distance was +taken from us: familiar deck fittings assumed huge, grotesque +proportions; the blurred and shadowy outlines of listening men about +the decks seemed magnified and unreal. Sound, too, was distorted by +the inconstant sea-fog; a whisper might carry far, a whole-voiced hail +be but dimly heard. +</P> + +<P> +Lifting lazily over the long swell, under easy canvas, we sailed, +unseeing and unseen. Now and on, the hand fog-trumpet rasped out a +signal of our sailing, a faint, half-stifled note to pit against the +deep reverberation of a liner's siren that seemed, at every blast, to +be drawing nearer and nearer. +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man was on the poop, anxiously peering into the void, though +keenest eyes could serve no purpose. Bare-headed, that he might the +better hear, he stepped from rail to rail—listening, sniffing, +striving, with every other sense acute, to work through the fog-banks +that had robbed him of his sight. We were in evil case. A dense fog +in Channel, full in the track of shipping—a weak wind for working +ship. Small wonder that every whisper, every creak of block or parrel, +caused him to jump to the compass—a steering order all but spoken. +</P> + +<P> +"Where d'ye mark that, now?" he cried, as again the liner's siren +sounded out. +</P> + +<P> +"Where d'ye mark ... d'ye mark ... mark?" The word was passed forward +from mouth to mouth, in voices faint and muffled. +</P> + +<P> +"About four points on th' port bow, Sir!" The cry sounded far and +distant, like a hail from a passing ship, though the Mate was but +shouting from the bows. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! Stan' by t' hand that foresheet! Keep the foghorn goin'!" +</P> + +<P> +"... Foresheet ... 'sheet ... th' fog'orn ... goin'!" The invisible +choir on the main-deck repeated the orders. +</P> + +<P> +Again the deep bellow from the steamer, now perilously close—the +futile rasp of our horn in answer. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly an alarmed cry: "O Chris'! She's into us! ... The bell, +you! The bell! ..." A loud clanging of the forward bell, a united +shout from our crew, patter of feet as they run aft, the Mate shouting: +"Down hellum, Sir—down hellum, f'r God's sake!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hard down helm! Le' go foresheet!" answered to the Mate's cry, the +Old Man himself wrenching desperately at the spokes of the wheel. +Sharp ring of a metal sheave, hiss of a running rope, clank and throb +of engines, thrashing of sails coming hard to the mast, shouts! +</P> + +<P> +Out of the mist a huge shadowy hull ranges alongside, the wash from her +sheering cutwater hissing and spluttering on our broadside. +</P> + +<P> +Three quick, furious blasts of a siren, unintelligible shouts from the +steamer's bridge, a churning of propellers; foam; a waft of black +smoke—then silence, the white, clammy veil again about us, and only +the muffled throb of the liner's reversed engines and the uneasy lurch +of our barque, now all aback, to tell of a tragedy averted. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! The murderin' ruffians! The b——y sojers!" The crisis over, +the Old Man was beside himself with rage and indignation. "Full speed +through weather like this! Blast ye!" he yelled, hollowing his hands. +"What—ship—is—that?" +</P> + +<P> +No answer came out of the fog. The throb of engines died away in a +steady rhythm; they would be on their course again, 'slowed down,' +perhaps, to twelve knots, now that the nerves of the officer of the +watch had been shaken. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly our barque was turned on heel, the yards trimmed to her former +course, and we moved on, piercing the clammy barrier that lay between +us and a landfall. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, young fellers? Wha' d'ye think o' that now?" Bo'sun was the +first of us to regain composure. "Goin' dead slow, worn't 'e? 'Bout +fifteen, I sh'd siy! That's the wye wi' them mail-boat fellers: +Monday, five 'undred mile; Toosd'y, four-ninety-nine; We'n'sd'y, +four-ninety-height 'n 'arf—'slowed on haccount o' fog'—that's wot +they puts it in 'er bloomin' log, blarst 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"Silence, there—main-deck!" The Old Man was pacing across the break +of the poop, pausing to listen for sound of moving craft. +</P> + +<P> +Bo'sun Hicks, though silenced, had yet a further lesson for us +youngsters, who might one day be handling twenty-knot liners in such a +fog. In the ghostly light of fog and breaking day he performed an +uncanny pantomime, presenting a liner's officer, resplendent in collar +and cuff, strutting, mincing, on a steamer's bridge. (Sailormen walk +fore and aft; steamboat men, athwart.) +</P> + +<P> +"Haw!" he seemed to say, though never a word passed his lips. "Haw! +Them wind-jammers—ain't got no proper fog'orns. Couldn't 'ear 'em at +th' back o' a moskiter-net! An' if we cawn't 'ear 'em, 'ow do we know +they're there, haw! So we bumps 'em, an' serve 'em dem well right, +haw!" +</P> + +<P> +It was extraordinary! Here was a man who, a few minutes before, might, +with all of us, have been struggling for his life! +</P> + +<P> +Dawn broke and lightened the mist about us, but the pall hung thick as +ever over the water. At times we could hear the distant note of a +steamer's whistle; once we marked a sailing vessel, by sound of her +horn, as she worked slowly across our bows, giving the three mournful +wails of a running ship. Now and again we cast the lead, and it was +something to see the Channel bottom—grains of sand, broken +shell-pebbles—brought up on the arming. Fog or no fog, we were, at +least, dunting the 'blue pigeon' on English ground, and we felt, as day +wore on and the fog thinned and turned to mist and rain, that a +landfall was not yet beyond hope. +</P> + +<P> +A change of weather was coming, a change that neither the Old Man nor +the Mate liked, to judge by their frequent visits to the barometers. +At noon the wind hauled into the sou'-west and freshened, white tops +curled out of the mist and broke in a splutter of foam under the +quarter, Channel gulls came screaming and circling high o'er our +heads—a sure sign of windy weather. A gale was in the making; a +rushing westerly gale, to clear the Channel and blow the fog-rack +inland. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like the looks o' this, Mister." The Old Man was growing +anxious; we had seen nothing, had heard nothing to make us confident of +our reckoning. "That aneroid's dropped a tenth since I tapped it last, +an' th' mercurial's like it had no bottom! There's wind behind this, +sure; and if we see naught before 'four bells,' I'm goin' out t' look +for sea-room. Channel fogs, an' sou'-westers, an' fifteen-knot liners +in charge o' b——y lunatics! Gad! there's no room in th' English +Channel now for square sail, an' when ye——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sail O! On the port bow, Sir!" Keen, homeward-bound eyes had sighted +a smudge on the near horizon. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like a fisherman," said the Mate, screwing at his glasses. +"He's standing out." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll haul up t' him, anyway," answered the Old Man. "Starboard +a point—mebbe he can give us the bearin' o' th' Lizard." +</P> + +<P> +Bearing up, we were soon within hailing distance. She was a Cardiff +pilot cutter; C.F. and a number, painted black on her mains'l, showed +us that. As we drew on she hoisted the red and white of a pilot on +station. +</P> + +<P> +"The barque—ahoy! Where—are—'oo—bound?" A cheering hail that +brought all hands to the rails, to stare with interest at the +oilskin-clad figures of the pilot's crew. +</P> + +<P> +"Falmouth—for orders!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!"—a disappointed note—"'oo are standin' too far t' th' west'ard, +Capt'in. I saw the Falmouth cutter under th' land, indeed, before the +fog came down. Nor'-by-east—that'll fetch 'm!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank 'ee! How does the Lizard bear?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Bout nor'-nor'-west, nine mile, I sh'd say. Stand +in—as—far—as—thirty-five—fathoms—no less!" The pilot's Channel +voice carried far. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank Heaven! That's definite, anyway," said the Old Man, turning to +wave a hand towards the cutter, now fast merging into the mist astern. +"Nor'-nor'-west, nine mile," he said. "That last sight of ours was a +long way out. A good job I held by th' lead. Keep 'er as she's goin', +Mister; I'll away down an' lay her off on th' chart—nor'-nor'-west, +nine mile," he kept repeating as he went below, fearing a momentary +forgetfulness. +</P> + +<P> +In streaks and patches the mist was clearing before the westering wind. +To seaward we saw our neighbours of the fog setting on their ways. Few +were standing out to sea, and that, and the sight of a fleet of +fishermen running in to their ports, showed that no ordinary weather +lay behind the fast-driving fog-wreaths. North of us heavy masses of +vapour, banked by the breeze, showed where the land lay, but no +land-mark, no feature of coast or headland, stood clear of the mist to +guide us. Cautiously, bringing up to cast the lead at frequent +intervals, we stood inshore, and darkness, falling early, found us +a-lee of the land with the misty glare of the Lizard lights broad on +our beam. Here we 'hove-to' to await a pilot—"Thirty-five fathoms, no +less," the Welshman had advised—and the frequent glare of our +blue-light signals showed the Old Man's impatience to be on his way +again to Falmouth and shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Eight we burnt, guttering to their sockets, before we saw an answering +flare, and held away to meet the pilot. A league or so steady running, +and then—to the wind again, the lights of a big cutter rising and +falling in the sea-way, close a-lee. +</P> + +<P> +"What—ship?" Not Stentor himself could have bettered the speaker's +hail. +</P> + +<P> +"The <I>Florence</I>, of Glasgow: 'Frisco t' Channel. Have ye got my +orders?" +</P> + +<P> +A moment of suspense. Hull, it might be, or the Continent: the answer +might set us off to sea again. +</P> + +<P> +"No—not now! (We're right—for Falmouth.) We had 'm a fortnight +agone, but they'm called in since. A long passage, surely, Captain?" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye! A hundred an' thirty-two days—not countin' three week at th' +Falklan's, under repair. ... Collision with ice in fifty-five, south! +... No proper trades either; an' 'doldrums'! ... A long passage, +Pilot!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well! You'm be goin' on t' Falmouth, I reckon—stan' by t' put +a line in my boat!" A dinghy put off from the cutter; a frail +cockle-shell, lurching and diving in the short Channel sea, and soon +our pilot was astride the rail, greeting us, as one sure of a welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"You'm jest in time, Capten. It's goin' t' blow, I tell 'ee—(Mainyard +forrard, Mister Mate!)—an' a West-countryman's allowance, for sure!" +He rubbed his sea-scarred hands together, beamed jovially, as though a +'West-countryman's allowance' were pleasant fare.... "Th' glass +started fallin' here about two—(Well—the mainyard!—a bit more o' th' +lower tawps'l-brace, Mister!)—two o'clock yesterday afternoon—(How's +the compass, Capten? Half a point! Keep 'er nor'-east b' nor', when +she comes to it, m' lad!)—an' it's been droppin' steady ever since. +Lot o' craft put in for shelter sin'—(Check in th' foreyards now, will +'ee?)—since th' marnin', an' the Carrick Roads 'll be like West India +Dock on a wet Friday. A good job the fog's lifted. Gad! we had it +thick this marnin'. We boarded a barque off th' Dodman.... Thought he +was south o' th' Lizard, he did, an' was steerin' nor'-east t' make +Falmouth! A good job we sighted 'im, or he'd a bin—(Well—th' +foreyard, Mister!)—hard upon th' Bizzie's Shoal, I reckon." +</P> + +<P> +The look-out reported a light ahead. +</P> + +<P> +"'St. Ant'ny's, Capten," said our pilot. "Will 'ee give 'er th' main +to'galns'l, an' we'll be gettin' on?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS +</H4> + +<P> +High dawn broke on a scene of storm, on the waters of Falmouth Bay, +white-lashed and curling, on great ragged storm-clouds racing +feather-edged over the downs and wooded slopes that environ the fairest +harbour of all England. +</P> + +<P> +To us, so long habited to the lone outlook of sea and sky, the scene +held much of interest, and, from the first grey break of morning, our +eyes went a-roving over the windy prospect, seeing incident and novelty +at every turn. In the great Bay, many ships lay anchored, head to +wind, at straining cables. Laden ships with trim spars and rigging, +red-rusty of hull, and lifting at every scend to the rough sea, the +foul green underbody of long voyaging; tall clippers, clean and freshly +painted without, but showing, in disorder of gear and rigging, the mark +of the hastily equipped outward bound coasters, steam and sail, +plunging and fretting at short anchor or riding to the swell in +sheltered creeks; lumbermen, with high deck loads bleached and whitened +by wind and salt-spume of a winter passage; drifters and pilot +cruisers, sea trawlers, banksmen—a gathering of many craft that the +great west wind had turned to seek a shelter. +</P> + +<P> +Riding with the fleet, we lay to double anchor. Overhead the high wind +whistled eerily through spar and cordage—a furious blast that now and +then caught up a crest of the broken harbour sea and flung the icy +spray among us. Frequent squalls came down—rude bursts of wind and +driving sleet that set the face of the harbour white-streaked under the +lash, and shut out the near land in a shroud of wind-blown spindrift. +To seaward, in the clearings, we could see the hurtling outer seas, +turned from the sou'-west, shattering in a high column of broken water +at the base of St. Anthony's firm headland. We were well out of that, +with good Cornish land our bulwark. +</P> + +<P> +Ahead of us lay Falmouth town, dim and misty under the stormy sky. A +'sailor-town,' indeed, for the grey stone houses, clustered in +irregular masses, extended far along the water front—on the beach, +almost, as though the townsfolk held only to business with tide and +tide-load, and had set their houses at high-water mark for greater +convenience. In spite of the high wind and rough sea, a fleet of shore +boats were setting out toward the anchorage. Needs a master wind, in +truth, to keep the Falmouth quay-punts at their moorings when +homeward-bound ships lie anchored in the Roads, whose lean, ragged +sailormen have money to spend! +</P> + +<P> +Under close-reefed rags of straining canvas, they came at us, lurching +heavily in the broken seaway, and casting the spray mast-high from +their threshing bows. To most of them our barque was the sailing mark. +Shooting up in the wind's eye with a great rattle of blocks and <I>slatt</I> +of wet canvas, they laid us aboard. There followed a scene of spirited +action. A confusion of wildly swaying masts and jarring +broadsides—shouts and curses, protest and insult; fending, pushing, +sails and rigging entangled in our out-gear. Struggling to a foothold, +where any offered on our rusty topsides, the boatmen clambered aboard, +and the Captain was quickly surrounded by a clamorous crowd, extending +cards and testimonials, and loudly praying for the high honour of +'sarving' the homeward bound. +</P> + +<P> +"Capten! I sarved 'ee when 'ee wos mate o' th' <I>Orion</I>! Do 'ee mind +Pengelly—Jan Pengelly, Capten!"—"Boots, Capten? Damme, if them a'nt +boots o' my makin', 'ee 're a-wearin' nah!"—"... can dew 'ee cheaper +'n any man on th' Strand, Capten!"—"Trevethick's th' man, Capten! +Fort—(<I>th' 'ell 'ee shovin' at?</I>)—Forty year in Falmouth, Capten!" +</P> + +<P> +Old Jock was not to be hurried in his bestowal of custom. From one he +took a proffered cigar; from another a box of matches. Lighting up, he +seated himself on the skylight settee. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, aye! Man, but ye're the grand talkers," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The crowd renewed their clamour, making bids and offers one against the +other. +</P> + +<P> +"Come down t' th' cabin, one of ye," said the Old Man, leading the way. +A purposeful West-countryman, brushing the crowd aside, followed close +at heel. The others stood around, discussing the prospect of business. +</P> + +<P> +"Scotch barque, a'n't she?" said one. "Not much to be made o' them +Scotch Captens! Eh, Pengelly, 'ee knows? Wot about th' Capten o' th' +<I>Newtonend</I>, wot 'ee sarved last autumn?" +</P> + +<P> +The man addressed looked angrily away, the others laughed: a sore point! +</P> + +<P> +"Paid 'ee wi' tawps'l sheets, didn't 'e?" said another. "A fair wind, +an' him bound West! <I>Tchutt</I>! 'ee must 'a bin sleepin' sound when th' +wind come away, Pengelly, m' son!" +</P> + +<P> +Pengelly swore softly. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't 'ee mind un, Jan, m' boy?" added a third. "Mebbe th' Capten 'll +send 'ee 'Spanish notes' when 'e arrives out—Santa Rosalia, worn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +A bustle at the companionway put a stop to the chaff, the purposeful +man having come on deck, glum of countenance. +</P> + +<P> +"You'm struck a right 'hard case,' boys," he said. "Twenty per cent +ain't in it—an' I'm off. So long!" +</P> + +<P> +One by one the tradesmen had their interview, and returned to deck to +talk together, with a half laugh, of Scotch 'Jews' and hard bargains. +Hard bargains being better than no business, the contracts were taken +up, the crowd dispersed, and we were soon in a position to order our +longshore togs and table luxuries—at prices that suggested that +someone was warming his boots at our fire. +</P> + +<P> +With Jan Pengelly we bargained for foodstuffs. It was something of a +task to get comfortably aboard his 'bumboat,' heaving and tossing as +she was in the short sea. In the little cabin, securely battened and +tarpaulined against the drenching sprays that swept over the boat, he +kept his stock—a stock of everything that a homeward-bounder could +possibly require; but his silk scarves and velvet slippers, +silver-mounted pipes and sweet tobacco hats, held no attraction for us: +it was food we sought—something to satisfy the hunger of five months' +voyaging on scant rations—and at that we kept Jan busy, handing out +and taking a careful tally of our purchases. +</P> + +<P> +On deck there was little work for us to do. Little could be done, for, +as the day wore on to a stormy setting, wind and sea increased, forcing +even the hardy boatmen to cast off and run to a sheltered creek at St. +Mawes. The icy, biting spray, scattered at every plunge of our +ground-fast barque, left no corner of the deck unsearched, and, after a +half-hearted attempt to keep us going, the Mate was forced to order +'stand by.' In half-deck and fo'cas'le we gathered round the red-hot +bogies, and talked happily of the voyage's end, of the pay-table, of +resolves to stop there when we had come ashore. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the night, at anchor-watch. Tramping for a brief hour, two +together, sounding, to mark that she did not drive a-lee; listening to +the crash of seas, the harping of the rigging, to the <I>thrap, thrap</I> of +wind-jarred halliards; struggling to the rigging at times, to put +alight an ill-burning riding lamp; watching the town lights glimmer +awhile, then vanish as quick succeeding squalls of snow enwrapped the +Bay. A brief spell of duty, not ill-passed, that made the warmth of +the half-deck and the red glow of the bogie fire more grateful to +return to. +</P> + +<P> +As day broke the gale was at its height. Out of a bleak and +threatening west the wind blew ominously true—a whole gale, +accompanied by a heavy fall of snow. There could be no boat +communication with the shore in such a wind, but, as soon as the light +allowed, we engaged the Signal Station with a string of flags, and +learnt that our orders had not yet come to hand, that they would be +communicated by signal, if received during the day. +</P> + +<P> +After we had re-stowed sails and secured such gear and tackle as had +blown adrift in the night, 'stand by' was again the order, reluctantly +given, and all hands took advantage of the rare circumstance of spare +time and a free pump to set our clothes cleanly and in order. +</P> + +<P> +Near noon the Mate spied fluttering wisps of colour rising on the +signal yard ashore. Steadying himself in a sheltered corner, he read +the hoist: W.Q.H.L.—our number. +</P> + +<P> +"Aft here, you boys, an' hand flags," he shouted. Never was order more +willingly obeyed; we wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +The news went round that our orders had come. With bared arms, +dripping of soapsuds, the hands came aft, uncalled, and the Mate was +too busy with telescope and signal-book to notice (and rebuke) the +general muster of expectant mariners. +</P> + +<P> +As our pennant was run up, the hoist ashore was hauled down, to be +replaced by a new. The Mate read out the flags, singly and distinct, +and turned to the pages of the signal-book. +</P> + +<P> +"'You—are—ordered—to—proceed—to'—Answering pennant up, lively +now; damme, I can't rest you boys a minute, but ye run to seed an' +sodgerin'!" +</P> + +<P> +A moment of suspense; to proceed to—where? The Old Man was on deck +now, with code-book in hand, open at the 'geographicals.' +"'B—D—S—T,'" sang out the Mate. "B.D.S.T.," repeated the Old Man, +whetting a thumb and turning the pages rapidly. "B.D.S.T., +B.D.S—Sligo! Sligo, where's that, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"North of Ireland, sir," said M'Kellar. "Somewhere east of Broadhaven. +I wass in there once, mysel'." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, of course! Sligo, eh? Well, well! I never heard of a +square-rigger discharging there—must see about th' charts. Ask them +to repeat, Mister, and make sure." +</P> + +<P> +Our query brought the same flags to the yard. B.D.S.T.—Sligo, without +a doubt—followed by a message, "Letters will be sent off as soon as +weather moderates." +</P> + +<P> +There was a general sense of disappointment when our destination was +known; Ireland had never even been suggested as a possible finish to +our voyage. Another injustice! +</P> + +<P> +As the afternoon wore on, the wind lessened and hauled into the north. +The bleak storm-clouds softened in outline, and broke apart to show us +promise of better weather in glimpses of clear blue behind. Quickly, +as it had got up, the harbour sea fell away. The white curling crests +no longer uprose, to be caught up and scattered afar in blinding +spindrift. Wind, their fickle master, had proved them false, and now +sought, in blowing from a new airt, to quell the tumult he had bidden +rise. +</P> + +<P> +With a prospect of letters—of word from home—we kept an eager +look-out for shore-craft putting out, and when our messenger arrived +after a long beat, the boat warp was curled into his hand and the side +ladder rattled to his feet before he had time to hail the deck. With +him came a coasting pilot seeking employ, a voluble Welshman, who did +not leave us a minute in ignorance of the fact that "he knew th' coast, +indeed, ass well ass he knew Car—narvon!" +</P> + +<P> +Then to our letters. How we read and re-read, and turned them back and +forward, scanning even the post-mark for further news! +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Early astir, we had the lee anchor at the bows before dawn broke. A +bright, clear frosty morning, a cloudless sky of deepest blue, the land +around wrapped in a mantle of snow—a scene of tranquillity in sea and +sky, in marked contrast to the bitter weather of the day before. At +the anchorage all was haste and stirring action. A gentle breeze from +the north was blowing—a 'soldier's' wind that set fair to east and +west, and the wind-bound ships were hurrying to get their anchors and +be off, to make the most of it. A swift pilot cutter, sailing tack and +tack through the anchorage, was serving pilots on the outward bound, +and as each was boarded in turn, the merry <I>clank-clank</I> of windlass +pawls broke out, and the chorus of an anchor chantey woke the echoes of +the Bay. Quay punts passed to and fro from ship to shore, lurching, +deep-laden with stores, or sailing light to reap the harvest that the +west wind had blown them. Among them came Jan Pengelly (anxious that +payment 'by tops'l sheets' did not again occur with him), and the Welsh +coasting pilot who was to sail with us. +</P> + +<P> +The weather anchor was strong bedded and loth to come home, and it was +as the last of the fleet that we hoisted our number and ran out between +Pendennis and the Head. The Old Man was in high good humour that he +had no towing bills to settle, and walked the poop, rubbing his hands +and whistling a doleful encouragement to the chill north wind. +</P> + +<P> +Safely past the dread Manacles, the Falmouth pilot left us. We crowded +sail on her, steering free, and dark found us in open channel, leaning +to a steady breeze, and the Lizard lights dipping in the wake astern. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"T' WIND'ARD!" +</H4> + +<P> +For over a week of strong westerly gales we had kept the open sea, +steering to the north as best the wind allowed. A lull had come—a +break in the furious succession, though still the sea ran high—and the +Old Man, in part satisfied that he had made his northing, put the helm +up and squared away for the land. In this he was largely prompted by +the coasting pilot (sick of a long, unprofitable, passage—on a +'lump-sum' basis), who confidently asked to be shown but one speck of +Irish land, and, "I'll tell 'oo the road t' Dub-lin, Capt'in!" +</P> + +<P> +Moderately clear at first, but thickening later, as we closed the land, +it was not the weather for running in on a dangerous coast, ill-lighted +and unmarked, but, had we waited for clear weather, we might have +marked time to the westward until the roses came; the wind was fair, we +were over-long on our voyage; sheet and brace and wind in squared sail +thrummed a homeward song for us as we came in from the west. +</P> + +<P> +At close of a day of keen sailing, the outposts of the Irish coast, +bleak, barren, inhospitable, lay under our lee—a few bold rocks, +around and above wreathed in sea-mist, and the never-dying Atlantic +swell breaking heavily at base. +</P> + +<P> +"Iss, indeed, Capt'in! The Stags! The Stags of Broad-haven, I tell +'oo," said the pilot, scanning through his glasses with an easy +assurance. "Indeed to goodness, it iss the best landfall I haf ever +seen, Capt'in!" +</P> + +<P> +Though pleased with his navigation, the Old Man kept his head. "Aye, +aye," he said. "The Stags, eh? Well, we'll haul up t' th' wind +anyway—t' make sure!" He gave the order, and went below to his charts. +</P> + +<P> +Rolling heavily, broad to the sea and swell, we lay awhile. There was +no sign of the weather clearing, no lift in the grey mist that hung +dense over the rugged coast-line. On deck again, the Old Man stared +long and earnestly at the rocky islets, seeking a further guidemark. +In the waning daylight they were fast losing shape and colour. Only +the breaking sea, white and sightly, marked them bold in the grey +mist-laden breath of the Atlantic. "——'present themselves, +consisting of four high rocky islets of from two thirty-three to three +ought-six feet in height, an' steep-to,'" he said, reading from a book +of sailing directions. "Damme! I can only see three." To the pilot, +"D'ye know the Stags well, Mister? Are ye sure o' ye're ground?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Wel, wel</I>! Indeed, Capt'in" (Mr. Williams laughed). "I know the +Stags, yess! Ass well ass I know Car-narvon! The Stags of +Broad-haven, I tell 'oo. When I wass master of the <I>Ann Pritchard</I>, of +Beaumaris, it wass always to the West of Ireland we would be goin'. +Summer and winter, three years, I tell 'oo, before I came to +pilotin'—an' there iss not many places between the Hull and Missen +Head that I haf not seen in daylight an' dark. It iss the Stags, +indeed! East, south-east now, Capt'in, an' a fine run to Sligo Bar!" +</P> + +<P> +Still unassured, the Old Man turned his glasses on the rocky group. +"One—two—three—perhaps that was the fourth just open to the +south'ard"—they certainly tallied with the description in the +book—"high, steep-to." A cast of the lead brought no decision. +Forty-seven! He might be ten miles north and south by that and former +soundings. It was rapidly growing dark, the wind freshening. If he +did not set course by the rocks—Stags they seemed to be—he would lose +all benefit of landfall—would spend another week or more to the +westward, waiting for a rare slant on this coast of mist and foul +weather! Already eighteen days from Falmouth! The chance of running +in was tempting! Hesitating, uncertain, he took a step or two up and +down the poop, halting at turns to stare anxiously at the rocks, in the +wind's eye, at the great Atlantic combers welling up and lifting the +barque to leeward at every rise. On the skylight sat Mr. Williams, +smiling and clucking in his beard that "he did not know the Stags, +indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"We haul off, Pilot," said stout Old Jock, coming at a decision. "If +it had been daylight ... perhaps ... but I'm for takin' no risks. They +may be th' Stags, belike they are, but I'm no' goin' oan in weather +like this! We'll stand out t' th' norrard—'mainyards forrard, +Mister'—till daylight onyway!" +</P> + +<P> +Sulkily we hauled the yards forward and trimmed sail, leaving the rocks +to fade under curtain of advancing night, our high hopes of making port +dismissed. The 'navigators' among us were loud of their growling, as +the ship lurched and wallowed in the trough of the sea, the decks +waist-high with a wash of icy water—a change from the steadiness and +comfort of a running ship. +</P> + +<P> +Night fell black dark. The moon not risen to set a boundary to sea and +sky; no play of high light on the waste of heaving water; naught but +the long inky ridges, rolling out of the west, that, lifting giddily to +crest, sent us reeling into the windless trough. On the poop the Old +Man and Pilot tramped fore and aft, talking together of landfalls and +coasting affairs. As they came and went, snatches of their talk were +borne to us, the watch on deck—sheltering from the weather at the +break. The Old Man's "Aye, ayes," and "Goad, man's," and the voluble +Welshman's "iss, indeed, Capt'in," and "I tell 'oo's." The Pilot was +laying off a former course of action. "... Mister Williams, he said, I +can see that 'oo knows th' coast, he said, an' ... I 'oodn't go in +myself, he said; but if 'oo are sure——" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Brea—kers a-head!</I>"—a stunning period to his tale, came in a long +shout, a scream almost, from the look-out! +</P> + +<P> +Both sprang to the lee rigging, handing their eyes to shield the wind +and spray. Faint as yet against the sombre monotone of sea and sky, a +long line of breaking water leapt to their gaze, then vanished, as the +staggering barque drove to the trough; again—again; there could be no +doubt. Breakers! On a lee shore!! +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Mawdredd an'l</I>! O Christ! The Stags, Capt'in.... My God! My God!" +Wholly unmanned, muttering in Welsh and English, Mr. Williams ran to +the compass to take bearings. +</P> + +<P> +Old Jock came out of the rigging. Then, in a steady voice, more +ominous than a string of oaths, "Luff! Down helm, m' lad, an' keep her +close!" And to the pilot, "Well? What d'ye mak' of it, Mister?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stags, Capt'in! <I>Diwedd i</I>! That I should be mistake.... The others +... God knows! ... If it iss th' Stags, Capt'in ... the passage t' +th' suth'ard.... I know it ... we can run ... if it iss th' Stags, +Capt'in!" +</P> + +<P> +"An' if it's no' th' Stags! M' Goad! Hoo many Stags d'ye know, +Mister? No! No! We'll keep th' sea, if she can weather thae rocks +... an' if she canna!!" A mute gesture—then, passionately, "T' hell +wi' you an' yer b——y Stags: I back ma ship against a worthless pilot! +All hands, there, Mister—mains'l an' to'galn's'l oan her! Up, ye +hounds; up, if ye look fur dry berryin'!" +</P> + +<P> +All hands! No need for a call! "Breakers ahead"—the words that sent +us racing to the yards, to out knife and whip at the gaskets that held +our saving power in leash. Quickly done, the great mainsail blew out, +thrashing furiously till steadied by tack and sheet. Then topgal'n' +sail, the spars buckling to overstrain; staysail, spanker—never was +canvas crowded on a ship at such a pace; a mighty fear at our hearts +that only frenzied action could allay. +</P> + +<P> +Shuddering, she lay down to it, the lee rail entirely awash, the decks +canted at a fearsome angle; then righted—a swift, vicious lurch, and +her head sweeping wildly to windward till checked by the heaving +helmsman. The wind that we had thought moderate when running before it +now held at half a gale. To that she might have stood weatherly, but +the great western swell—spawn of uncounted gales—was matched against +her, rolling up to check the windward snatches and sending her reeling +to leeward in a smother of foam and broken water. +</P> + +<P> +A gallant fight! At the weather gangway stood Old Jock, legs apart and +sturdy, talking to his ship. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand, good spars," he would say, casting longing eyes aloft. Or, +patting the taffrail with his great sailor hands, "Up tae it, ye bitch! +Up!! Up!!!" as, raising her head, streaming in cascade from a +sail-pressed plunge, she turned to meet the next great wall of water +that set against her. "She'll stand it, Mister," to the Mate at his +side. "She'll stand it, an' the head gear holds. If she starts +that!"—he turned his palms out—"If she starts th' head gear, Mister!" +</P> + +<P> +"They'll hold, Sir! ... good gear," answered the Mate, hugging himself +at thought of the new lanyards, the stout Europe gammon lashings, he +had rove off when the boom was rigged. Now was the time when Sanny +Armstrong's spars would be put to the test. The relic of the ill-fated +<I>Glenisla</I>, now a shapely to'gallant mast, was bending like a whip! +"Good iron," he shouted as the backstays twanged a high note of utmost +stress. +</P> + +<P> +Struggling across the heaving deck, the Pilot joined the group. +Brokenly, shouting down the wind, "She'll never do it, Capt'in, I tell +'oo! ... An' th' tide.... Try th' south passage.... Stags, sure! ... +See them fair now! ... Th' south passage, Capt'in.... It iss some +years, indeed, but ... I know. <I>Diwedd an'l</I>! She'll never weather +it, Capt'in!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye ... and weather it ... an' the gear holds! Goad, man! Are ye +sailor enough t' know what'll happen if Ah start a brace, wi' this +press o' sail oan her? T' wind'ard ... she goes. Ne'er failed me +yet"—a mute caress of the stout taffrail, a slap of his great hand. +"Into it, ye bitch! T' wind'ard! T' wind'ard!" +</P> + +<P> +Staggering, taking the shock and onset of the relentless seas, but ever +turning the haughty face of her anew to seek the wind, she struggled +on, nearing the cruel rocks and their curtain of hurtling breakers. +Timely, the moon rose, herself invisible, but shedding a diffused light +in the east, showing the high summits of the rocks, upreared above the +blinding spindrift. A low moaning boom broke on our strained ears, +turning to the hoarse roar of tortured waters as we drew on. +</P> + +<P> +"How does 't bear noo, M'Kellar? Is she makin' oan't?" shouted the Old +Man. +</P> + +<P> +The Second Mate, at the binnacle, sighted across the wildly swinging +compass card. "No' sure, Sir. ... Th' caird swingin' ... think +there's hauf a p'int.... Hauf a p'int, onyway!" +</P> + +<P> +"Half a point!" A great comber upreared and struck a deep resounding +blow—"That for yeer half a point"—as her head swung wildly off—off, +till the stout spanker, the windward driver, straining at the stern +sheets, drove her anew to a seaward course. +</P> + +<P> +Nearer, but a mile off, the rocks plain in a shaft of breaking +moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"How now, M'Kellar?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nae change, Sir! ... 'bout east, nor'-east ... deefecult ... th' caird +swingin'...." +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man left his post and struggled to the binnacle. "East, +nor'-east ... east o' that, mebbe," he muttered. Then, to 'Dutchy,' at +the weather helm, "Full, m' lad! Keep 'er full an' nae mair! Goad, +man! Steer as ye never steered ... th' wind's yer mairk.... Goad! +D'na shake her!" +</P> + +<P> +Grasping the binnacle to steady himself against the wild lurches of the +staggering hull, the Old Man stared steadily aloft, unheeding the roar +and crash of the breakers, now loud over all—eyes only for the +straining canvas and standing spars above him. +</P> + +<P> +"She's drawin' ahead, Sir," shouted M'Kellar, tense, excited. "East, +b' nor' ... an' fast!" +</P> + +<P> +The Old Man raised a warning hand to the steersman. "Nae higher! Nae +higher! Goad, man! Dinna let 'r gripe!" +</P> + +<P> +Dread suspense! Would she clear? A narrow lane of open water lay +clear of the bow—broadening as we sped on. +</P> + +<P> +"Nae higher! Nae higher! Aff! Aff! Up hellum, up!" His voice a +scream, the Old Man turned to bear a frantic heave on the spokes. +</P> + +<P> +Obedient to the helm and the Mate's ready hand at the driver sheets, +she flew off, free of the wind and sea—tearing past the towering +rocks, a cable's length to leeward. Shock upon shock, the great +Atlantic sea broke and shattered and fell back from the scarred granite +face of the outmost Stag; a seething maelstrom of tortured waters, +roaring, crashing, shrilling into the deep, jagged fissures—a shriek +of Furies bereft. And, high above the tumult of the waters and the +loud, glad cries of us, the hoarse, choking voice of the man who had +backed his ship. +</P> + +<P> +"Done it, ye bitch!"—a now trembling hand at his old grey head. "Done +it! Weathered—by Goad!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +XXVI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LIKE A MAN! +</H4> + +<P> +Spring in the air of it, a bright, keen day, and the mist only strong +enough to soften the bold, rugged outline of Knocknarea, our sailing +mark, towering high and solitary above Sligo Harbour. The strong west +wind that we had fought and bested at the Stags turned friendly, had +blown us fair to our voyage's end, and now, under easy canvas, we +tacked on shore and off, waiting for tide to bear up and float our +twenty feet in safety across the Bar. +</P> + +<P> +At Raghly, our signal for a local pilot was loyally responded to. A +ship of tonnage was clearly a rare sight in these parts, for the entire +male population came off to see us safely in—to make a day of it! Old +pilots and young, fishermen and gossoons, they swept out from creek and +headland in their swift Mayo skiffs, and though only one was Trinity +licensed for our draft of water, the rest remained, to bear willing +hands at the braces on the chance of a job at the cargo being given. +</P> + +<P> +'Ould Andy' was the official pilot—a hardy old farmer-fisherman, +weazened by years and the weather. He had donned his best in honour of +the occasion—a coarse suit of fearnought serges, quaintly cut, and an +ancient top hat, set at a rakish angle. Hasty rising showed in razor +cuts on his hard blue jowl, and his untied shoes made clatter as he +mounted the poop, waving a yellow time-stained license. An odd figure +for a master-pilot; but he made a good impression on Old Jock when he +said, simply, "... but bedad, now, Cyaptin! Sure, Oim no hand at thim +big yards ov yours, but Oi kin show ye where th' daape watther is!" +</P> + +<P> +The ship steered to his liking, and all in trim, he walked the poop, +showing a great pride of his importance as a navigator of twenty feet. +Suddenly—at no apparent call—he stepped to the side where his boat +was towing. +</P> + +<P> +"What-t," he yelled. "Ach, hoult yer whisht! What-t are yez shoutin' +about? What-t? Ast the Cyaptin f'r a bit av 'baccy f'r th' byes in +th' boat! Indade, an' Oi will natt ast th' dacent gintilman f'r a bit +av 'baccy f'r th' byes in th' boat! What-t? Ach, hoult yer whisht, +now!" +</P> + +<P> +Joining the Captain he resumed the thread of his description of Sligo +Port, apparently unheeding the Old Man's side order to the steward that +sent a package of hard tobacco over the rail. +</P> + +<P> +"... an' ye'll lie at Rosses Point, Cyaptin, till ye loighten up t' +fourteen faate. Thin, thr'll be watther f'r yes at th' Quay, but..." +(Another tangent to the lee rail.) ... "Ach! What-t's th' matther wit' +ye now. Be m' sowl, it's heart-breakin' ye are, wit' yer shoutin' an' +that-t! What-t? Salt baafe an' a few bisskits! No! Oi will natt!! +Ast 'im yersilf f'r a bit av salt baafe an' a few bisskits, bad scran +t' ye, yes ongrateful thaaves!" +</P> + +<P> +We are homeward bound; the beef and biscuits go down. After them, "a +tarn sail—jest a rag, d'ye moind, t' make a jib f'r th' ould boat"; +then, "a pat av paint an' a brush"—it becomes quite exciting with Ould +Andy abusing his boat's crew at every prompted request. We are +beginning to wager on the nature of the next, when sent to the stations +for anchoring. Ould Andy, with an indignant gesture and shake of his +fists, turns away to attend to his more legitimate business, and, at +his direction, we anchor to seaward of the Bar. +</P> + +<P> +The wind that has served us so well has died away in faint airs, +leaving a long glassy swell to score the placid surface of the Bay and +set a pearly fringe on the distant shore. The tide moves steadily in +flood, broadening in ruffling eddies at the shoals of the Bar. On a +near beacon a tide gauge shows the water, and when sail is furled and +the yards in harbour trim we have naught to do but reckon our wages, +and watch the rising water lapping, inch by inch, on the figured board. +From seaward there is little to be seen of the countryside. The land +about is low to the coast, but far inland blue, mist-capped ranges +stand bold and rugged against the clear northern sky. Beyond the Bar +the harbour lies bare of shipping—only a few fishing skiffs putting +out under long sweeps, and the channel buoys bobbing and heaving on the +long swell. A deserted port we are come to after our long voyage from +the West! +</P> + +<P> +"That'll be th' <I>Maid o' th' Moy</I>, Cyaptin," said Ould Andy, squinting +through the glasses at smoke-wrack on the far horizon. "Hot-fut from +Ballina, t' tow ye in. An' Rory Kilgallen may save his cowl, bedad, +f'r we'll naade two fut av watther yet before we get acrost. +Bedad"—in high glee—"he'll nat-t be after knowin' that it's twinty +faate, no liss, that Ould Andy is bringin' in this day!" +</P> + +<P> +With a haste that marks her skipper's anxiety to get a share of the +good things going, the <I>Maid</I>, a trim little paddle tug, draws nigh, +and soon a high bargaining begins between Old Jock and the tugman, with +an eager audience to chorus, "D'ye hear that-t, now!" at each fiery +period. Rory has the whip hand—and knows it. No competition, and the +tide making inch by inch on the beacon gauge! +</P> + +<P> +For a time Old Jock holds out manfully. "Goad, no! I'll kedge th' +hooker up t' Sligo Quay before I give ye that!" But high water at hand +and no sign of wind, he takes the tug on at a stiff figure, and we man +the windlass, tramping the well-worn round together for the last time. +</P> + +<P> +<I>Leave her</I> is the set chantey for finish of a voyage, and we roar a +lusty chorus to Granger, the chanteyman. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O! Leave 'r John-ny, leave 'r like a man,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!</I>)</SPAN><BR> +Oh! Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r when ye can,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' it's time—for us—t' leave 'r!</I>")</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +A hard heave, and the tug lying short. A Merseyman would have the +weight off the cable by this. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O! Soon we'll 'ear 'th Ol' Man say,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!</I>)</SPAN><BR> +Ye kin go ashore an' take yer pay,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' it's time—for us—t' leave 'r!</I>")</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Heave, byes," the gossoons bearing stoutly on the bars with us. +"Heave, now! He's got no frin's!" +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"O! Th' times wos 'ard, an' th' wages low,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!</I>)</SPAN><BR> +Th' w'yage wos long, an' th' gales did blow,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">(<I>An' it's time—for us—t' leave 'r!"</I>)</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Check—and rally; check—a mad rush round—the anchor dripping at the +bows, and we move on across the eddies of the Bar in wake of the +panting tug. +</P> + +<P> +A short tow, for all the bargaining, and at Rosses Point we bring up to +moorings—the voyage at an end. +</P> + +<P> +"That'll do, you men," said the Mate, when the last warp was turned. +"Pay off at th' Custom House at twelve to-morrow!" +</P> + +<P> +"That'll do!" Few words and simple; but the meaning! Free at last! +No man's servant! With a hurricane whoop the crew rush to quarters to +sling their bags for the road. +</P> + +<P> +Then the trafficking with the shore, the boatmen reaping a harvest. "A +bob th' trip, yer 'anner, on a day like this." The doors of the +village inn swinging constantly, and the white-aproned landlord +(mopping a heated brow at royal orders), sending messengers to ransack +the village cupboards for a reserve of glasses. And when at last the +boats are ready for the long pull up to Sligo town, and the impatient +boatmen shouting, "Coom on now, byes! Before th' toide tarns; byes, +now!" The free men embark, and we, the afterguard (who draw no pay), +are left to watch them set off, and wish that our day were quickly come. +</P> + +<P> +For a time we hear their happy voices, and answer cheer for cheer, then +the dark comes, and the last is a steady <I>clack</I> of rowlocks, and the +men singing "<I>Leave 'r, John-ny ... like a man!</I>" +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Two days later, on deck of the Glasgow boat, I gazed on my old ship for +the last time. At the narrow bend we steamed slow, to steer cautiously +past her. The harbour watch were there to give me a parting cheer, and +Old Jock, from the poop, waved a cheery response to my salute. Past +her, we turned water again, and sped on to sea. +</P> + +<P> +It was a day of mist and low clouds, and a weakly sun breaking through +in long slanting shafts of light. Over the Point a beam was fleeting, +playing on the house-tops, shimmering in window glasses, lighting on +the water, on the tracery of spar and rigging, and showing golden on +the red-rusty hull of the old barque—my home for so long in fair +weather and foul. +</P> + +<P> +A turn of the steering shut her from my sight, and I turned to go below. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine ships! Fine ships—t' look aat!" +</P> + +<P> +The Mate of the steamer, relieved from duty, had stopped at my side, +sociable. He would be a Skye-man by the talk of him. It was good to +hear the old speech again. +</P> + +<P> +"Aye! she's a fine ship." +</P> + +<P> +"Haf you been th' voyage in her? Been long away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes! Sixteen months this trip!" +</P> + +<P> +"Saxteen munss! Ma grasshius! Y'll haf a fine pey oot o' her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a cent! Owing, indeed; but my time'll be out in a week, an I'll +get my indentures." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yiss! Oh, yiss! A bressbounder, eh!" Then he gave a half-laugh, +and muttered the old formula about "the man who would go to sea for +pleasure, going to hell for a pastime!" +</P> + +<P> +"Whatna voyage did ye haf, now?" he asked, after filling a pipe with +good 'golden bar,' that made me empty the bowl of mine, noisily. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pretty bad. Gales an' gales. Hellish weather off the Horn, an' +short-handed, an' the house full o' lashin' water—not a dry spot, fore +an' aft. 'Gad! we had it sweet down there. Freezin', too, an' th' +sails hard as old Harry. Ah! a fine voyage, wi' rotten grub an' short +commons at that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Man, man! D'ye tell me that, now! Ma grasshius! Ah wouldna go in +them if ye wass t' gif me twenty pounds a munss!" +</P> + +<P> +No; I didn't suppose he would, looking at the clean, well-fed cut of +him, and thinking of the lean, hungry devils who had sailed with me. +</P> + +<P> +"Naw! Ah wouldna go in them if ye wass t' gif me thirrty pounss a +munss! Coaffins, Ah caall them! Aye, coaffins, that iss what they +are!" +</P> + +<P> +Coffin! I thought of a ship staggering hard-pressed to windward of a +ledge of cruel rocks, the breakers shrieking for a prey, and the old +grey-haired Master of her slapping the rail and shouting, "Up t'it, m' +beauty! T' windward, ye bitch!" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, coaffins," he repeated. "That iss what they are!" +</P> + +<P> +I had no answer—he was a steamboat man, and would not have understood. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +EPILOGUE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +"1910" +</H4> + +<P> +Into a little-used dock space remote from harbour traffic she is put +aside—out of date and duty, surging at her rusted moorings when the +dock gates are swung apart and laden steamships pass out on the road +she may no longer travel. The days pass—the weeks—the months; the +tide ebbs, and comes again; fair winds carry but trailing smoke-wrack +to the rim of a far horizon; head winds blow the sea mist in on +her—but she lies unheeding. Idle, unkempt, neglected; and the haughty +figurehead of her is turned from the open sea. +</P> + +<P> +Black with the grime of belching factories, the great yards, that could +yet spread broad sails to the breeze, swing idly on untended braces, +trusses creaking a note of protest, sheet and lift chains clanking +dismally against the mast. Stout purchase blocks that once <I>chirrped</I> +in chorus to a seaman's chantey stand stiffened with disuse; idle rags +of fluttering sailcloth mar the tracery of spar and cordage; in every +listless rope, every disordered ratline, she flies a signal of +distress—a pennant of neglect. +</P> + +<P> +Her decks, encumbered with harbour gear and tackle, are given over to +the rude hands of the longshoreman; a lumber yard for harbour refuse, a +dumping ground for the ashes of the bustling dock tugs. On the hatch +covers of her empty holds planks and stages are thrown aside, left as +when the last of the cargo was dragged from her; hoist ropes, frayed +and chafed to feather edges, swing from the yardarms; broken cargo +slings lie rotting in a mess of grain refuse. The work is done. There +is not a labourer's pay in her; the stevedores are gone ashore. +</P> + +<P> +Though yet staunch and seaworthy, she stands condemned by modern +conditions: conditions that call for a haste she could never show, for +a burthen that she could never carry. But a short time, and her owners +(grown weary of waiting a chance charter at even the shadow of a +freight) may turn their thumbs down, and the old barque pass to her +doom. In happy case, she may yet remain afloat—a sheer hulk, drowsing +the tides away in some remote harbour, coal-hulking for her +steam-pressed successor. +</P> + +<P> +And of her crew, the men who manned and steered her? Scattered afar on +seven seas, learning a new way of seafaring; turning the grip that had +held to a life aloft to the heft of a coalman's shovel, the deft +fingers that had fashioned a wondrous plan of stay and shroud to the +touch of winch valve and lever. Only an old man remains, a warden, in +keeping with the lowly state of his once trim barque. Too old +(conservative, may be) to start sea life anew, he has come to +shipkeeping—a not unpleasant way of life for an aged mariner, so that +he can sit on the hatch on fine nights, with a neighbourly dock +policeman or Customs watcher and talk of the sea as only he knows it. +And when his gossip has risen to go the rounds, what links to the chain +of memory may he not forge, casting his old eyes aloft to the gaunt +spars and their burden of useless sail? Who knows what kindly ghosts +of bygone shipmates walk with him in the night watches, when the dock +lies silent and the flickering harbour lights are shimmering, reflected +in a broad expanse? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The New Readers' Library +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +POCKET EDITIONS OF MODERN ENGLISH CLASSICS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Printed on thin paper, and bound in flexible cloth. Size 7 x 4 1/2 in. +3s. 6d. net each. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +A new series of pocket editions of important copyright works by eminent +modern authors many of which have never before been available at a +popular price. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"<I>An edition so nice and nimble that it might penetrate +anywhere.</I>"—MR. WILLIAM GERHARDI. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"<I>Books which every lover of English literature ought to own.</I>"—PUBLIC +OPINION. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +<I>THE SIX MOST RECENT VOLUMES</I> +</P> + +<BR> + +<PRE> + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 39. English Poems. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 42. Faith. + 44. Scottish Stories. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 40. The Gathering of Brother Hilarius. + + MRS. WALDO RICHARDS + + 41. High Tide: an anthology. + + SACHEVERELL SITWELL + + 43. The Hundred and One Harlequins. + + MAURICE BARING + + 6. Lost Diaries. + + H. BELLOC + + 15. Caliban's guide to Letters, and Lambkin's Remains. + + JOHN BERESFORD + + 20. Gossip of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: six + studies in the human side of history. + + AUGUSTINE BIRRELL + + 16. Obiter Dicta. + + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 7. The Bonadventure: a random journal of an Atlantic holiday. + 31. The Shepherd and other poems of Peace and War. + + DAVID W. BONE + + 13. The Brassbounder: a tale of the sea. + + IVOR BROWN + + 35. The Meaning of Democracy. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 8. Success, and other sketches. + 34. Thirteen Stories. + + JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + + 11. God's Country. + + J. H. FABRE + + 26. Social Life in the Insect World. + 27. The Wonders of Instinct: chapters in the psychology of Insects. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 4. The Roadmender + + JOHN GALSWORTHY + + 24. Six Short Plays. + + WILLIAM GERHARDI + + 2. The Polyglots: a novel. + 21. Futility: a novel. + 32. Anton Chekov: a critical study. + + MAXIM GORKY + + 38. Twenty-six men and a girl, and other stories, with an + Introduction by Edward Garnett. + + W. H. HUDSON + + 1. Green Mansions: a Romance of the Tropical Forest. + 9. Birds and Man. + 14. The Purple Land. + 18. A Crystal Age. + 23. El Ombu. + 30. Hampshire Days. + 33. Birds in London. + + RICHARD JEFFERIES + + 17. Amaryllis at the Fair. + + RICHARD KEARTON, F.Z.S. + + 36. Wild Nature's Ways. + + LEGIONNAIRE 17889 + + 29. In the Foreign Legion. + + ROBERT LYND + + 37. The Art of Letters. + + ARTHUR MACHEN + + 5. The Terror: a fantasy + + EDITH SITWELL + + 12. Bucolic Comedies: poems. + + OSBERT SITWELL + + 22. Triple Fugue: stories. + 25. Argonaut and Juggernaut: Poems. + + LESLIE STEPHEN + + 28. English Literature and Society in the Eighteenth Century + + ANTON TCHEKOFF + + 10. The Black Monk, and other stories. + 19. The Kiss, and other stories. +</PRE> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +GERALD DUCKWORTH & CO., LTD. +<BR> +3 HENRIETTA STREET, LONDON, W.C. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brassbounder, by David W. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Brassbounder + A Tale of the Sea + +Author: David W. Bone + +Release Date: March 4, 2010 [EBook #31497] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRASSBOUNDER *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +THE BRASSBOUNDER + +_A Tale of the Sea_ + + +by + +DAVID W. BONE + + +AUTHOR OF "BROKEN STOWAGE" + + + + +DUCKWORTH + +3 HENRIETTA STREET + +LONDON, W.C.2. + + + + +All Rights Reserved + +First published 1910. Reprinted (twice) 1910. + +Reprinted 1911. Popular Edition printed 1913. + +Reprinted 1916 and 1924. + +Reprinted (New Readers Library) 1927. + + + +Made and Printed in Great Britain by + +The Camelot Press Limited + +London and Southampton + + + + +TO + +JAMES HAMILTON MUIR + + + + +THE NEW READERS LIBRARY + + 1. GREEN MANSIONS by W. H. HUDSON + 2. THE POLYGLOTS by WILLIAM GERHARDI + 3. THE SEA AND THE JUNGLE by H. M. TOMLINSON + 4. THE ROADMENDER by MICHAEL FAIRLESS + 5. THE TERROR by ARTHUR MACHEN + 6. LOST DIARIES by MAURICE BARING + 7. THE BONADVENTURE by EDMUND BLUNDEN + 8. SUCCESS by CUNNINGHAM GRAHAM + 9. BIRDS AND MAN by W. H. HUDSON + 10. THE BLACK MONK by ANTON TCHEKOFF + 11. GOD'S COUNTRY by JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + 12. BUCOLIC COMEDIES by EDITH SITWELL + 13. THE BRASSBOUNDER by DAVID W. BONE + 14. THE PURPLE LAND by W. H. HUDSON + 15. CALABAN'S GUIDE TO LETTERS AND LAMKIN'S REMAINS by HILAIRE BELLOC + 16. OBITER DICTA by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL + 17. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR by RICHARD JEFFERIES + 18. A CRYSTAL AGE by W. H. HUDSON + 19. THE KISS by ANTON TCHEKOFF + 20. GOSSIP OF THE 17TH AND 18TH CENTURIES by JOHN BERESFORD + 21. FUTILITY by WILLIAM GERHARDI + 22. TRIPLE FUGUE by OSBERT SITWELL + 23. EL OMBU by W. H. HUDSON + 24. SIX SHORT PLAYS by JOHN GALSWORTHY + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE 'BLUE PETER' + II. STEERSMANSHIP + III. THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK + IV. THE 'DEAD HORSE' + V. 'SEA PRICE' + VI. ROUNDING THE HORN + VII. A HOT CARGO + VIII. WORK! + IX. IN 'FRISCO TOWN + X. THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S' + XI. THE 'CONVALESCENT' + XII. ON THE SACRAMENTO + XIII. HOMEWARD! + XIV. A TRICK AT THE WHEEL + XV. ''OLY JOES' + XVI. EAST, HALF SOUTH! + XVII. ADRIFT + XVIII. "----AFTER FORTY YEAR!" + XIX. 'IN LITTLE SCOTLAND' + XX. UNDER THE FLAG + XXI. 'DOLDRUMS' + XXII. ON SUNDAY + XXIII. A LANDFALL + XXIV. FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS + XXV. "T' WIND'ARD!" + XXVI. LIKE A MAN + EPILOGUE: "1910" + + + + +THE BRASSBOUNDER + + +I + +THE 'BLUE PETER' + +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong. The university bells toll out in +strength of tone that tells of south-west winds and misty weather. On +the street below my window familiar city noises, unheeded by day, +strike tellingly on the ear--hoof-strokes and rattle of wheels, tramp +of feet on the stone flags, a snatch of song from a late reveller, then +silence, broken in a little by the deep mournful note of a steamer's +siren, wind-borne through the Kelvin Valley, or the shrilling of an +engine whistle that marks a driver impatient at the junction points. +Sleepless, I think of my coming voyage, of the long months--years, +perhaps--that will come and go ere next I lie awake hearkening to the +night voices of my native city. My days of holiday--an all too brief +spell of comfort and shore living--are over; another peal or more of +the familiar bells and my emissary of the fates--a Gorbals cabman, +belike--will be at the door, ready to set me rattling over the granite +setts on the direct road that leads by Bath Street, Finnieston, and +Cape Horn--to San Francisco. A long voyage and a hard. And where +next? No one seems to know! Anywhere where wind blows and square-sail +can carry a freight. At the office on Saturday, the shipping clerk +turned his palms out at my questioning. + +"Home again, perhaps. The colonies! Up the Sound or across to Japan," +he said, looking in his _Murray's Diary_ and then at the clock, to see +if there was time for him to nip home for his clubs and catch the 1.15 +for Kilmacolm. + +Nearly seventeen months of my apprenticeship remain to be served. +Seventeen months of a hard sea life, between the masts of a starvation +Scotch barque, in the roughest of seafaring, on the long voyage, the +stormy track leading westward round the Horn. + +It will be February or March when we get down there. Not the worst +months, thank Heaven! but bad enough at the best. And we'll be badly +off this voyage, for the owners have taken two able seamen off our +complement. "Hard times!" they will be saying. Aye! hard times--for +us, who will now have to share two men's weight in working our heavily +sparred barque. + +Two new apprentices have joined. Poor little devils! they don't know +what it is. It seemed all very fine to that wee chap from Inverary who +came with his father to see the ship before he joined. How the eyes of +him glinted as he looked about, proud of his brass-bound clothes and +badge cap. And the Mate, all smiles, showing them over the ship and +telling the old Hielan' clergyman what a fine vessel she was, and what +an interest he took in boys, and what fine times they had on board +ship, and all that! Ah yes--fine times! It's as well the old chap +doesn't know what he is sending his son to! How can he? We know--but +we don't tell.... Pride! Rotten pride! We come home from our first +voyage sick of it all.... Would give up but for pride.... Afraid to +be called 'stuck sailors' ... of the sneers of our old schoolmates.... +So we come home in a great show of bravery and swagger about in our +brass-bound uniform and lie finely about the fine times we had ... out +there! ... And then nothing will do but Jimmy, next door, must be off +to the sea too--to come back and play the same game on young Alick! +That's the way of it! ... + +Then when the Mate and them came to the half-deck, it was: "Oh yes, +Sir! This is the boys' quarters. Well! Not always like that, +Sir--when we get away to sea, you know, and get things shipshape. Oh, +well no! There's not much room aboard ship, you see. This is one of +our boys--Mister Jones." (Jones, looking like a miller's man--he had +been stowing ship's biscuits in the tanks--grinned foolishly at the +Mate's introduction: 'Mister!') "We're very busy just now, getting +ready for sea. Everything's in a mess, as you see, Sir. Only joined, +myself, last week. But, oh yes! It will be all right when we get to +sea--when we get things shipshape and settled down, Sir!" + +Oh yes! Everything will be all right then, eh? Especially when we get +down off the Horn, and the dingy half-deck will be awash most of the +time with icy water. The owners would do nothing to it this trip, in +spite of our complaints. They sent a young man down from the office +last week who poked at the covering boards with his umbrella and wanted +to know what we were growling at. Wish we had him out there--off Diego +Ramirez. Give him something to growl at with the ship working, and +green seas on deck, and the water lashing about the floor of the house, +washing out the lower bunks, bed and bedding, and soaking every stitch +of the clothing that we had fondly hoped would keep us moderately dry +in the next bitter night watch. And when (as we try with trembling, +benumbed fingers to buckle on the sodden clothes) the ill-hinged door +swings to, and a rush of water and a blast of icy wind chills us to the +marrow, it needs but a hoarse, raucous shout from without to crown the +summit of misery. "Out there, the watch! Turn out!" in tone that +admits of no protest. "Turn out, damn ye, an' stand-by t' wear ship!" + +(A blast of wind and rain rattles on my window-pane. _Ugh_! I turn +the more cosily amid my blankets.) + +Oh yes! He would have something to growl at, that young man who asked +if the 'Skipp-ah' was aboard, and said he "was deshed if he could see +what we hed to complain of." + +He would learn, painfully, that a ship, snugly moored in the south-east +corner of the Queen's Dock (stern-on to a telephone call-box), and the +same craft, labouring in the teeth of a Cape Horn gale, present some +points of difference; that it is a far cry from 58 deg. South to the +Clyde Repair Works, and that the business of shipping is not entirely a +matter of ledgers. + +Oh well! Just have to stick it, though. After all, it won't always be +hard times. Think of the long, sunny days drowsing along down the +'Trades,' of the fine times out there in 'Frisco, of joys of strenuous +action greater than the shipping clerk will ever know, even if he +should manage to hole out in three. Seventeen months! It will soon +pass, and I'll be a free man when I get back to Glasgow again. +Seventeen months, and then--then---- + +Ding ... dong.... Ding ... dong.... Ding dong.... + +Quarter to! With a sigh for the comfort of a life ashore, I rise and +dress. Through the window I see the Square, shrouded in mist, the +nearer leafless shrubs swaying in the chill wind, pavement glistening +in the flickering light of street lamps. A dismal morning to be +setting off to the sea! Portent of head winds and foul weather that we +may meet in Channel before the last of Glasgow's grime and smoke-wrack +is blown from the rigging. + +A stir in the next room marks another rising. Kindly old '_Ding ... +dong_' has called a favourite brother from his rest to give me convoy +to the harbour. + +Ready for the road, he comes to my room. Sleepy-eyed, yawning. "Four +o'clock! _Ugh_! Who ever heard of a man going to sea at four in the +morning! Ought to be a bright summer's day, and the sun shining and +flags flying an'----" A choked laugh. + +"Glad I'm not a sailorman to be going out on a morning like this! Sure +you've remembered everything? Your cab should be here now. Just gone +four. Heard the bells as I was dressing----" + +Rattle of wheels on the granite setts--sharp, metallic ring of shod +heels--a moment of looking for a number--a ring of the door-bell. + +"Perty that's tae gang doon tae th' Queen's Dock wi' luggage.... A' +richt, Mister! Ah can cairry them ma'sel'.... Aye! Weel! Noo that +ye menshun it, Sur ... oon a mornin' like this.... Ma respeks, gents!" + +There are no good-byes: the last has been said the night before. There +could be no enthusiasm at four on a raw November's morning; it is best +that I slip out quietly and take my seat, with a last look at the quiet +street, the darkened windows, the quaint, familiar belfry of St. Jude's. + +"A' richt, Sur. G'up, mere! Haud up, mere, ye!" + +At a corner of the Square the night policeman, yawning whole-heartedly, +peers into the cab to see who goes. There is nothing to investigate; +the sea-chest, sailor-bag, and bedding, piled awkwardly on the +'dickey,' tell all he wants to know. + +"A sailor for aff!" + +Jingling his keys, he thinks maybe of the many 'braw laads' from +Lochinver who go the same hard road. + + * * * * * + +Down the deserted wind-swept streets we drive steadily on, till house +lights glinting behind the blinds and hurrying figures of a +'night-shift' show that we are near the river and the docks. A turn +along the waterside, the dim outlines of the ships and tracery of mast +and spar looming large and fantastic in the darkness, and the driver, +questioning, brings up at a dim-lit shed, bare of goods and cargo--the +berth of a full-laden outward-bounder. My barque--the _Florence_, of +Glasgow--lies in a corner of the dock, ready for sea. Tugs are +churning the muddy water alongside, getting into position to drag her +from the quay wall; the lurid side-light gleams on a small knot of +well-wishers gathered at the forward gangway exchanging parting words +with the local seamen of our crew. I have cut my time but short. + +"Come en there, you!" is my greeting from the harassed Chief Mate. +"Are you turned a ---- passenger, with your gloves and overcoat? You +sh'd have been here an hour ago! Get a move on ye, now, and bear a +hand with these warps.... Gad! A drunken crew an' skulkin' +'prentices, an' th' Old Man growlin' like a bear with a sore----" + +Grumbling loudly, he goes forward, leaving me the minute for +'good-bye,' the late 'remembers,' the last long hand-grip. + +Into the half-deck, to change hurriedly into working clothes. Time +enough to note the guttering lamp, evil smell, the dismal aspect of my +home afloat--then, on deck again, to haul, viciously despondent, at the +cast-off mooring ropes. + +Forward the crew--drunk to a man--are giving the Chief Mate trouble, +and it is only when the gangway is hauled ashore that anything can be +done. The cook, lying as he fell over his sailor bag, sings, "_'t wis +ye'r vice, ma gen-tul Merry!_" in as many keys as there are points in +the compass, drunkenly indifferent to the farewells of a sad-faced +woman, standing on the quayside with a baby in her arms. Riot and +disorder is the way of things; the Mates, out of temper with the +muddlers at the ropes, are swearing, pushing, coaxing--to some attempt +at getting the ship unmoored. Double work for the sober ones, and for +thanks--a muttered curse. Small wonder that men go drunk to the sea: +the wonder is that any go sober! + +At starting there is a delay. Some of the men have slipped ashore for +a last pull at a neighbourly 'hauf-mutchkin,' and at a muster four are +missing. For a time we hold on at single moorings, the stern tug +blowing a 'hurry-up' blast on her siren, the Captain and a River Pilot +stamping on the poop, angrily impatient. One rejoins, drunken and +defiant, but of the others there is no sign. We can wait no longer. + +"Let go, aft!" shouts the Captain. "Let go, an' haul in. Damn them +for worthless sodjers, anyway! Mister"--to a waiting Board of Trade +official--"send them t' Greenock, if ye can run them in. If not, +telephone down that we're three A.B.'s short.... Lie up t' th' +norr'ard, stern tug, there. Hard a-port, Mister? All right! Let go +all, forr'ard!" ... We swing into the dock passage, from whence the +figures of our friends on the misty quayside are faintly visible. The +little crowd raises a weakly cheer, and one bold spirit (with his +guid-brither's 'hauf-pey note' in his pocket) shouts a bar or two of +"Wull ye no' come back again!" A few muttered farewells, and the shore +folk hurry down between the wagons to exchange a last parting word at +the Kelvinhaugh. '_... Dong ... ding ... DONG ... DONG...._' Set to a +fanfare of steam whistles, Old Brazen Tongue of Gilmorehill tolls us +benison as we steer between the pierheads. Six sonorous strokes, loud +above the shrilling of workshop signals and the nearer merry jangle of +the engine-house chimes. + +Workmen, hurrying to their jobs, curse us for robbing them of a +'quarter,' the swing-bridge being open to let us through. "Come oon! +Hurry up wi' that auld 'jeely-dish,' an' see's a chance tae get tae wur +wark," they shout in a chorus of just irritation. A facetious member +of our crew shouts: + +"Wot--oh, old stiy-at-'omes. Cahmin' aat t' get wandered?"--and a +dockman answers: + +"Hello, Jake, 'i ye therr? Man, th' sailormen maun a' be deid when th' +Mate gied you a sicht! Jist you wait tae he catches ye fanklin' th' +cro'-jeck sheets!" + +We swing slowly between the pierheads, and the workmen, humoured by the +dockman's jest, give us a hoarse cheer as they scurry across the still +moving bridge. In time-honoured fashion our Cockney humorist calls +for, 'Three cheers f'r ol' Pier-'ead, boys,' and such of the 'boys' as +are able chant a feeble echo to his shout. The tugs straighten us up +in the river, and we breast the flood cautiously, for the mist has not +yet cleared and the coasting skippers are taking risks to get to their +berths before the stevedores have picked their men. In the shipyards +workmen are beginning their day's toil, the lowe of their flares light +up the gaunt structures of ships to be. Sharp at the last wailing note +of the whistle, the din of strenuous work begins, and we are fittingly +drummed down the reaches to a merry tune of clanging hammers--the +shipyard chorus "Let Glasgow flourish!" + +Dawn finds us off Bowling, and as the fog clears gives us misty views +of the Kilpatrick Hills. Ahead, Dumbarton Rock looms up, gaunt and +misty, sentinel o'er the lesser heights. South, the Renfrew shore +stretches broadly out under the brightening sky--the wooded Elderslie +slopes and distant hills, and, nearer, the shoal ground behind the lang +Dyke where screaming gulls circle and wheel. The setting out is none +so ill now, with God's good daylight broad over all, and the flags +flying--the 'Blue Peter' fluttering its message at the fore. + +On the poop, the Captain (the 'Old Man,' be he twenty-one or fifty) +paces to and fro--a short sailor walk, with a pause now and then to +mark the steering or pass a word with the River Pilot. Of medium +height, though broad to the point of ungainliness, Old Jock Leish (in +his ill-fitting broadcloth shore-clothes) might have passed for a +prosperous farmer, but it needed only a glance at the keen grey eyes +peering from beneath bushy eyebrows, the determined set of a square +lower jaw, to note a man of action, accustomed to command. A quick, +alert turn of the head, the lift of shoulders as he walked--arms +swinging in seaman-like balance--and the trick of pausing at a windward +turn to glance at the weather sky, marked the sailing shipmaster--the +man to whom thought and action must be as one. + +Pausing at the binnacle to note the direction of the wind, he gives an +exclamation of disgust. + +"A 'dead muzzler,' Pilot. No sign o' a slant in the trend o' th' upper +clouds. Sou'west, outside, I'm afraid.... Mebbe it's just as weel; +we'll have t' bring up at th' Tail o' th' Bank, anyway, for these three +hands, damn them.... An' th' rest are useless.... Drunk t' a man, th' +Mate says. God! They'd better sober up soon, or we'll have to try +'Yankee music' t' get things shipshape!" + +The Pilot laughed. "I thought the 'Yankee touch' was done with at sea +now," he said. "Merchant Shippin' Act, and that sort of thing, +Captain?" + +"Goad, no! It's no bye wi' yet, an' never will be as long as work has +to be done at sea. I never was much taken with it myself, but, damn +it, ye've got to sail the ship, and ye can't do it without hands. Oh, +a little of it at the setting off does no harm--they forget all about +it before long; but at the end of a voyage, when ye're getting near +port, it's not very wise. No, not very wise--an' besides, you don't +need it!" + +The Pilot grins again, thinking maybe of his own experiences, before he +'swallowed part of the anchor,' and Old Jock returns to his walk. + +Overhead the masts and spars are black with the grime of a 'voyage' in +Glasgow Harbour, and 'Irish pennants' fluttering wildly on spar and +rigging tell of the scamped work of those whose names are not on our +'Articles.' Sternly superintended (now that the Mate has given up all +hope of getting work out of the men), we elder boys are held aloft, +reeving running gear through the leads in the maintop. On the deck +below the new apprentices gaze in open-mouthed admiration at our deeds: +they wonder why the Mate should think such clever fellows laggard, why +he should curse us for clumsy 'sodgers,' as a long length of rope goes +(wrongly led) through the top. In a few months more they themselves +will be criticising the 'hoodlums,' and discussing the wisdom of the +'Old Man' in standing so far to the south'ard. + +Fog comes dense on us at Port Glasgow, and incoming steamers, looming +large on the narrowed horizon, steer sharply to the south to give us +water. Enveloped in the driving wraiths we hear the deep notes of +moving vessels, the clatter of bells on ships at anchor, and farther +down, loud over all, the siren at the Cloch, bellowing a warning of +thick weather beyond the Point. Sheering cautiously out of the +fairway, we come to anchor at Tail of the Bank to wait for our +'pier-head jumps.' At four in the afternoon, a launch comes off with +our recruits and our whipper-in explains his apparent delay. + +"Hilt nor hair o' th' men that left ye hae I seen. I thocht I'd fin' +them at 'Dirty Dick's' when th' pubs opened ... but no, no' a sign: an' +a wheen tailor buddies wha cashed their advance notes huntin' high an' +low! I seen yin o' them ower by M'Lean Street wi' a nicht polis wi 'm +t' see he didna get a heid pit on 'm!--'_sss_! A pant! So I cam' doon +here, an' I hiv been lookin' for sailormen sin' ten o'clock. Man, +they'll no' gang in thae wind-jammers, wi' sae mony new steamers +speirin' hauns, an' new boats giein' twa ten fur th' run tae London.... +Thir's th' only yins I can get, an' ye wadna get them, but that twa's +feart o' th' polis an' Jorgensen wants t' see th' month's advance o' +th' lang yin!" + +The Captain eyes the men and demands of one: + +"Been to sea before?" + +"_Nach robh mhi_? Twa years I wass a 'bow rope' in the _I-on-a_, an' I +wass a wheelhouse in the Allan Line." + +A glance at his discharges confirms his claim, slight as it is, to +seamanship, and Duncan M'Innes, of Sleat, in Skye, after being +cautioned as to his obligations, signs his name and goes forward. + +Patrick Laughlin has considerable difficulty in explaining his absence +from the sea for two years, but the Captain, after listening to a long, +rambling statement... "i' th' yairds ... riggin' planks fur th' +rivitter boys.... Guid-brither a gaffer in Hamilton's, at the 'Poort' +... shoart time" ... gives a quick glance at the alleged seaman's +cropped head and winks solemnly at the Shipping-master, who is signing +the men on. Hands being so scarce, however, Patrick is allowed to +touch the pen. + +One glance at the third suffices. Blue eyes and light colourless hair, +high cheek-bones and lithe limbs, mark the Scandinavian. Strong, wiry +fingers and an indescribable something proclaim the sailor, and though +Von Shmit can hardly say 'yes' in English, he looks the most likely man +of the three. + +The Shipping-master, having concluded his business, steps aboard his +launch, leaving us with a full crew, to wait the weather clearing, and +the fair wind that would lift us down Channel. + + * * * * * + +Daybreak next morning shows promise of better weather, and a light +S.S.E. wind with a comparatively clear sky decides the Old Man to take +the North Channel for it. As soon as there is light enough to mark +their colours, a string of flags brings off our tug-boat from Princes +Pier, and we start to heave up the anchor. A stout coloured man sets +up a 'chantey' in a very creditable baritone, and the crew, sobered now +by the snell morning air, give sheet to the chorus. + + '_Blow, boy-s, blow,--for Califor-ny, oh!_ + _For there's lot's of gold, so I've been told,_ + _On the banks--of Sa-cramen-to!_' + + +The towing-hawser is passed aboard, and the tug takes the weight off +the cable. The nigger having reeled off all he knows of 'Californy,' a +Dutchman sings lustily of 'Sally Brown.' Soon the Mate reports, +"Anchor's short, Sir," and gets the order to weigh. A few more +powerful heaves with the seaman-like poise between each--"_Spent my +mo-ney on Sa-lley Brown!_"--and the shout comes, "Anchor's a-weigh!" + +Down comes the Blue Peter from the fore, whipping at shroud and +backstay in quick descent--our barque rides ground-free, the voyage +begun! + +The light is broad over all now, and the Highland hills loom dark and +misty to the norr'ard. With a catch at the heart, we pass the +well-known places, slowly making way, as if the flood-tide were +striving still to hold us in our native waters. A Customs boat hails, +and asks of us, "Whither bound?" "'Frisco away!" we shout, and they +wave us a brief God-speed. Rounding the Cloch, we meet the coasting +steamers scurrying up the Firth. + +"'Ow'd ye like t' be a stiy-at-'ome, splashin' abaht in ten fathoms, +like them blokes, eh?" the Cockney asks me, with a deep-water man's +contempt in his tone. + +How indeed? Yearning eyes follow their glistening stern-wash as they +speed past, hot-foot for the river berths. + +Tide has made now. A short period of slack water, and the ebb bears us +seaward, past the Cowal shore, glinting in the wintry sunlight, the +blue smoke in Dunoon valley curling upward to Kilbride Hill, past +Skelmorlie Buoy (tolling a doleful benediction), past Rothesay Bay, +with the misty Kyles beyond. The Garroch Head, with a cluster of Clyde +Trust Hoppers, glides abaft the beam, and the blue Cock o' Arran shows +up across the opening water. All is haste and bustle. Aloft, +spider-like figures, black against the tracery of the rigging, cast +down sheets and clew lines in the one place where they must go. Shouts +and hails--"Fore cross-trees, there! Royal buntline inside th' +crin'line, _in_-side, damn ye!" + +"Aye, aye! Stan' fr' under!" + +..._rrup_! A coil of rope hurtling from a height comes rattling to the +rail, to be secured to its own particular belaying-pin. Out of a +seeming chaos comes order. Every rope has its name and its place and +its purpose; and though we have 'sodjers' among us, before Arran is +astern we are ready to take to the wind. Off Pladda we set staysails +and steer to the westward, and, when the wind allows, hoist topsails +and crowd the canvas on her. The short November day has run its course +when we cast off the tow-rope. As we pass the standing tug, all her +hands are hauling the hawser aboard. Soon she comes tearing in our +wake to take our last letters ashore and to receive the Captain's +'blessing.' A heaving-line is thrown aboard, and into a small oilskin +bag are put our hastily written messages and the Captain's material +'blessing.' Shades of Romance! Our last link with civilisation +severed by a bottle of Hennessy's Three Star! + +The tugmen (after satisfying themselves as to the contents of the bag) +give us a cheer and a few parting 'skreichs' on their siren and, +turning quickly, make off to a Norwegian barque, lying-to, off Ailsa +Craig. + +All hands, under the Mates, are hard driven, sweating on sheet and +halyard to make the most of the light breeze. At the wheel I have +little to do; she is steering easily, asking no more than a spoke or +two, when the Atlantic swell, running under, lifts her to the wind. +Ahead of us a few trawlers are standing out to the Skerryvore Banks. +Broad to the North, the rugged, mist-capped Mull of Cantyre looms up +across the heaving water. The breeze is steady, but a falling +barometer tells of wind or mist ere morning. + +Darkness falls, and coast lights show up in all airts. Forward, all +hands are putting a last drag on the topsail halyards, and the voice of +the nigger tells of the fortunes of-- + + '_Renzo--boys, Renzo!_' + + + + +II + +STEERSMANSHIP + +Wee Laughlin, dismissed from the wheel for bad steering, was sitting on +the fore-hatch, a figure of truculence and discontent, mouthing a +statement on the Rights of Man, accompanied by every oath ever heard on +Clydeside from Caird's to Tommy Seath's at Ru'glen. It was not the +loss of his turn that he regretted--he was better here, where he could +squirt tobacco juice at will, than on the poop under the Mate's +eye--but, hardened at the 'Poort' as he was, he could not but feel the +curious glances of his watchmates, lounging about in dog-watch freedom +and making no secret of their contempt of an able seaman who couldn't +steer, to begin with. + +"'Ow wos she 'eadin', young feller, w'en ye--left?" Cockney Hicks, +glancing away from the culprit, was looking at the trembling leaches of +top'gal'nsails, sign of head winds. + +"'Er heid? Ach, aboot Nor' thurty west!" + +"Nor' thirty west? Blimy! Where th' 'ell's that? 'Ere! Give us it +in points! None o' yer bloomin' degrees aboard square-sail, young +feller!" + +"Weel, that's a' th' wye I ken it!" Sullen, mouth twisted askew in the +correct mode of the 'Poort,' defiant. + +"It wis aye degrees in a' th' boats I hiv been in--none o' thae wee +black chats ye ca' p'ints; we niver heeded thim. Degrees, an' 'poort' +an' 'starboord '--t' hell wit' yer 'luffs' an' 'nae highers'!" + +"Blimy!" + +"Aye, blimy! An' I cud steer them as nate's ye like; but I'm no guid +enough fur that swine o' a Mate, aft there!" He spat viciously. "'Nae +higher,' sez he t' me. 'Nae higher, Sur,' says I, pitten' the wheel a +bit doon. 'Up,' says he, 'up, blast ye! Ye're lettin 'r come up i' +th' win',' says he. I pit th' ---- wheel up, keepin' ma 'ee on th' +compass caird; but that wis a fau't tae.... 'Damn ye!' says he; 'keep +yer 'ee on th' to'gallan' leaches,' ... 'Whaur's that?' sez I. 'Oh, +holy smoke!' sez he. 'Whit hiv we got here?' An' he cam' ower and hut +me a kick, an' shouts fur anither haun' t' th' wheel! ... By ----" +mumbling a vicious formula, eyes darkening angrily as he looked aft at +the misty figure on the poop. + +Cockney looked at him curiously. + +"Wot boats 'ave ye bin in, anyway?" he said. "Them boats wot ye never +steered by th' win' before?" + +"---- fine boats! A ban' sicht better nor this bluidy ould wreck. +Boats wi' a guid gaun screw at th' stern av thim! Steamers, av coorse! +This is th' furst bluidy win'-jammer I hae been in, an' by ---- it'll +be th' last! An' that Mate! Him! ... Oh! If I only hid 'm in +Rue-en' Street ... wi' ma crood aboot,"--kicking savagely at a coil of +rope--"he widna be sae smert wi' 'is fit! Goad, no!" + +"Ye' fust win'-jammer, eh?" said Cockney pleasantly. "Oh well--ye'll +l'arn a lot! Blimy, ye'll l'arn a lot before ye sees Rue-hend Street +again. An' look 'ere!"--as if it were a small matter--"if ye cawn't +steer th' bloomin' ship afore we clears th' bloomin' Channel, ye kin +count _hon_ me fer a bloomin' good 'idin'! I ain't agoin' t' take no +other bloomin' bloke's w'eel! Not much, I ain't!" + +"Nor me!" "Nor me!" said the others, and Wee Laughlin, looking round at +the ring of threatening faces, realised that he was up against a +greater power than the Officer tramping the poop beyond. + +"Wull ye no'?" he said, spitting with a great show of bravery. "Wull +ye no'? Mebbe I'll hae sumthin' t' say aboot th' hidin'.... An' ye'll +hae twa av us tae hide whin ye're a' it. I'm nut th' only yin. +There's the Hielan'man ... him wi' th' fush scales on's oilskins. He +nivvir wis in a win'-jammer afore, he telt me; an'----" + +"An' whaat eef I nefer wass in a win'-chammer pefore?" M'Innes, quick +to anger, added another lowering face to the group. "Wait you till I +am sent awaay from th' wheel ... an' thaat iss not yet, no! ... +Hielan'man? ... Hielan'man? ... Tamm you, I wass steerin' by th' win' +pefore you wass porn, aye! ... An' aal t' time you wass in chail, +yess!" + +In the face of further enmity, Wee Laughlin said no more, preferring to +gaze darkly at the unknowing Mate, while his lips made strange +formations--excess of thought! The others, with a few further +threats--a word or two about 'hoodlums' and 'them wot signed for a +man's wage, an' couldn't do a man's work'--returned to their short +dog-watch pacings, two and two, talking together of former voyages and +the way of things on their last ships. + +We were in the North Channel, one day out, with the Mull of Cantyre +just lost to view. The light wind that had carried us out to the Firth +had worked to the westward, to rain and misty weather, and all day we +had been working ship in sight of the Irish coast, making little +headway against the wind. It was dreary work, this laggard setting +out--hanging about the land, tack and tack, instead of trimming yards +to a run down Channel. Out on the open sea we could perforce be +philosophic, and talk of 'the more days, the more dollars'; but here in +crowded waters, with the high crown of Innistrahull mocking at our +efforts, it was difficult not to think of the goodness of a shore life. +As the close of each watch came round the same spirit of discontent +prompted the question of the relief, officer or man. On the poop it +was, "Well, Mister! How's her head now? Any sign of a slant?" On the +foredeck, "'Ere! Wot th' 'ell 'ave ye bin doin' with 'er? Got th' +bloomin' anchor down or wot?" + +At nightfall the rain came down heavily before fitful bursts of chill +wind. Ours was the first watch, and tramping the deck in stiff, new +oilskins, we grumbled loudly at the ill-luck that kept us marking time. + +"I wonder w'y th' Old Man don't put abaht an' run dahn th' Gawges +Channel. Wot's 'e 'angin' abaht 'ere for, hanyw'y? Wot does 'e +expeck?" said Cockney, himself a 'navigator'--by his way of it. + +"Oh, shift o' wind, or something," said I. "I was aft at th' binnacles +an' heard him talkin' t' th' Mate about it. Says th' wind 'll back t' +th' south'ard if th' barometer don't rise. Told the Mate to call him +if the glass went up before twelve. I see old 'Steady-all'" (we are +one day out, but all properly named) "popping up and down the cabin +stairs. He'll be building a reef of burnt matches round the barometers +before that fair wind comes." + +"Sout' vass fair vind, ass ve goes now, aind't id?" asked Dutch John, a +pleasant-faced North German. + +"Fair wind? 'Oo th' 'ell's talkin' 'bout fair win's, an' that Shmit at +th' w'eel? 'Ow d'ye expeck a fair win' with a Finn--a bloody Rooshian +Finn's a-steerin' ov 'er?" Martin, a tough old sea-dog, with years of +service, claimed a hearing. + +"No, an' we won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky steers 'er! Ain't +much that way myself--me bein' a Liverpool man--but there's Collins +there--the nigger.... Niggers is lucky, an' West-country-men, an' +South of Ireland men--if they ain't got black 'air--but Finns! Finns +is the wu'st o' bloody bad luck! ... Knowed a Finn onst wot raised an +'owlin' gale agin us, just a-cos th' Ol' Man called 'im a cross-eyed +son ef a gun fur breakin' th' p'int ov a marlinspike! Raised an +'owlin' gale, 'e did! No, no! Ye won't 'ave no fair win' till a lucky +man goes aft. 'Ere, Collins! Your nex' w'eel, ain't it?" + +Collins grinned an affirmative. + +"Right-o! Well, young fellers, ye kin spit on yer 'an's fur squarin' +them yards somewheres between four an' eight bells. Nuthin' like a +nigger for bringin' fair win's.... An' 'e's a speshul kind o' nigger, +too.... Nova Scotiaman, Pictou way ... talks the same lingo as th' +'ilandman ... 'im on th' look-out, there." + +"Not the Gaelic, surely?" said I. + +"Aye, Gaelic. That's it. They speak that lingo out there, black an' +w'ite. Knowed lots o' niggers wot spoke it ... an' chows too!" + +I turned to Collins--a broad, black nigger with thick lips, woolly +hair, white, gleaming teeth--the type! He grinned. + +"Oh yass," he said. "Dat's ri'! Dey speak de Gaelic dere--dem +bluenose Scotchmen, an' Ah larn it when Ah wass small boy. Ah doan' +know much now ... forgot it mos' ... but Ah know 'nuff t' ask dat boy +Munro how de wass. _Hoo! Ho!! Hoo!!!_ 'Cia mar tha thu nis,' Ah +says, an' he got so fright', he doan' be seasick no mo'!" + +A wondrous cure! + +At ten Collins relieved the wheel and we looked for the shift that old +Martin had promised, but there was no sign of it--no lift to the misty +horizon, no lessening in the strength of the squalls, now heavy with a +smashing of bitter sleet. Bunched up against the helm, a mass of +oilskins glistening in the compass light, our 'lucky man' scarce seemed +to be doing anything but cower from the weather. Only the great eyes +of him, peering aloft from under the peak of his sou'wester, showed +that the man was awake; and the ready turns of the helm, that brought a +steering tremor to the weather leaches, marked him a cunning steersman, +whichever way his luck lay. + +Six bells struck, the Mate stepped below to the barometers, and a gruff +"Up! up!" (his way of a whisper) accompanied the tapping of the +aneroid. There he found encouragement and soon had the Old Man on +deck, peering with him in the wind's eye at the brightening glare of +Innistrahull Light out in the west. + +"Clearing, eh? And the glass risin'," said the Old Man. "Looks like +nor'-west! Round she goes, Mister: we'll lose no more time. Stan' by +t' wear ship!" + +"Aye, aye, Sir! Stan' by t' square mainyards, the watch, there!" + +Shouting as he left the poop, the Mate mustered his men at the braces. + +"Square mainyards! That's th' talk," said old Martin, throwing the +coils down with a swing. "Didn't Ah tell ye it wos a nigger as'd bring +a fair win'!" + +"But it ain't fair yet," said I. "Wind's west as ever it was; only th' +Old Man's made up his mind t' run her down th' George's Channel. Might +ha' done that four hours ago!" + +"Wot's th' use o' talkin' like that? 'Ow th' 'ell could 'e make up 'is +min' wi' a Rooshian Finn at th' w'eel, eh? Don't tell me! Ah knows as +niggers is lucky an' Finns ain't; an' don't ye give me none o' yer +bloody sass, young feller, cos ..." ("Haul away mainyards, there!") ... +"_Ho! ... io ... io...._ Ho! round 'em in, me sons. ... _Ho! ... io +... io...._ Twenty days t' th' Line, boys! ... _Ho ... io ... ho!_" + +A hard case, Martin! + +Turning on heel, we left Innistrahull to fade away on the quarter, and, +under the freshening breeze, made gallant steering for the nigger. +This was more like the proper way to go to sea, and when eight bells +clanged we called the other watch with a rousing shout. + +"Out, ye bloomin' Jonahs! Turn out, and see what the port watch can do +for ye. A fair wind down Channel, boys! Come on! Turn out, ye hungry +Jonahs, and coil down for your betters!" + + * * * * * + +After two days of keen sailing, running through the Channel traffic, we +reached the edge of soundings. The nor'-west breeze still held, though +blowing light, and under a spread of canvas we were leaning away to the +south'ard on a course for the Line Crossing. We sighted a large +steamer coming in from the west, and the Old Man, glad of a chance to +be reported, hauled up to 'speak' her. In hoists of gaily coloured +bunting we told our name and destination, and a wisp of red and white +at the liner's mast acknowledged our message. As she sped past she +flew a cheering signal to wish us a 'pleasant voyage,' and then lowered +her ensign to ours as a parting salute. + +"Keep her off to her course again--sou'-west, half south!" ordered the +Old Man when the last signal had been made. + +"Aff tae her coorse ag'in, Sur! Sou'-west, hauf south, Sur!" + +At sound of the steersman's answer I turned from my job at the signal +locker. Wee Laughlin, eyes on the weather clew of the royals, was +learning! + + + + +III + +THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK + +The guttering lamp gave little light in the half-deck; its trimming had +been neglected on this day of storm, so we sat in semi-gloom listening +to the thunder of seas outside. On the grimy deal table lay the +remains of our supper--crumbs of broken sea-biscuits, a scrap of greasy +salt horse, dirty plates and pannikins, a fork stabbed into the deal to +hold the lot from rolling, and an overturned hook-pot that rattled from +side to side at each lurch of the ship, the dregs of the tea it had +held dripping to the weltering floor. For once in a way we were +miserably silent. We sat dourly together, as cheerless a quartette as +ever passed watch below. "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?" +asked Hansen, throwing off his damp jacket and boots and turning into +his bunk. "'A life on th' ocean wave,' eh? Egad! here's one who +wishes he had learned to drive a wagon!" + +"And another," said Eccles. "That--or selling matches on th' highway! +... Come on, Kid! Get a move on ye and clear away! ... And mind ye +jamm the gear off in the locker. No more o' these tricks like ye did +in Channel--emptyin' half the bloomin' whack into th' scupper! You +jamm the gear off proper, or I'll lick ye!" + +Young Munro, the 'peggy' of our watch, swallowed hard and set about his +bidding. His small features were pinched and drawn, and a ghastly +pallor showed that a second attack of sea-sickness was not far off. He +staggered over to the table and made a half-hearted attempt to put the +gear away, + +"What's th' matter with ye?" said Eccles roughly. "Ye've been long +enough away from ye'r mammy t' be able t' keep ye'r feet. A fortnight +at sea, an' still comin' th' 'Gentle Annie'! You look sharp now, an' +don't----" + +"Eccles!" + +"Eh?" + +"You let the Kid alone," said Hansen in a dreamy, half-sleepy tone. +"You let the Kid alone, or I'll twist your damn neck! Time enough for +you to start chinnin' when your elders are out o' sight. You shut up!" + +"Oh, all right! Ye needn't get ratty. If you want t' pamper the +bloomin' Kid, it's none of my business, I s'pose.... All the same, you +took jolly good care I did _my_ 'peggy' last voyage! There was no +pamperin' that I remember!" + +"Different!" said Hansen, still in the same sleepy tone. "Different! +You were always big enough an' ugly enough t' stand the racket. You +leave the Kid alone!" + +Eccles turned away to his bunk and, seeking his pipe, struck match +after match in a vain attempt to light the damp tobacco. Now and then +the ship would falter in her swing--an ominous moment of silence and +steadiness--before the shock of a big sea sent her reeling again. The +crazy old half-deck rocked and groaned at the battery as the sea ran +aft, and a spurt of green water came from under the covering board. +Some of the sea-chests worked out of the lashings and rattled down to +leeward. Eccles and I triced them up, then stowed the supper gear in +the locker. + +"A few more big 'uns like that," said I, "and this rotten old house 'll +go a-voyagin'! ... Wonder it has stood so long." + +"Do ye think there's danger?" asked the Kid, in a falter, and turning +terrified eyes on one after another. + +"Course," said Hansen--we had thought him asleep--"course there is! +That's what ye came here for, isn't it? This is when th' hero stands +on th' weather taffrail, graspin' th' tautened backst'y an' hurlin' +defiance at th' mighty elements--'Nick Carter,' chap. one!" + +Eccles and I grinned. Munro took heart. + +"Danger," still the drowsy tone, "I should think there is! Why, any +one o' these seas might sweep the harness-cask and t'morrow's dinner +overboard! Any one of 'em might----" + +The door swung to with a crash, a blast of chill wind and rain blew in +on us, the lamp flickered and flared, a dripping oilskin-clad figure +clambered over the washboard. + +"Door! door!" we yelled as he fumbled awkwardly with the handle. + +"Oh, shut up! Ye'd think it was the swing-door of a pub. t' hear ye +shouting!" He pulled heavily, and the broken-hinged baulk slammed into +place. It was Jones, of the other watch, come in to turn us out. + +"Well, I'm hanged!" He looked around the house--at the litter on the +floor, at the spurting water that lashed across with the lurch of her. +"Why don't some of ye bale the place out 'stead of standing by t' shout +'Door, door!' when there's no need? Damn! Look at that!" She lurched +again. A foot or more of broken water dashed from side to side, +carrying odds of loose gear with it. "Egad! The port watch for lazy +sojers--every time! Why don't ye turn to an' dry the half-deck out? +Oh no; not your way! It's 'Damn you, Jack--I'm all right!' with you +chaps. Goin' on deck again soon, eh? Why should ye dry up for the +other watch, eh? ... Oh! all right. Just you----" + +"Oh, dry up yourself, Jones!" Hansen sat up in his bunk and turned his +legs out. "What you making all the noise about? We've been balin' and +balin', and it's no use! No use at all ... with that covering board +working loose and the planks opening out at every roll.... What's up, +anyway? ... All hands, eh?" + +"Yes. 'All hands wear ship' at eight bells! We've just set the fore +lower tops'l. Think we must be getting near the Western Islands by the +way th' Old Man's poppin' up and down. It's pipin' outside! Blowin' +harder than ever, and that last big sea stove in the weather side of +the galley. The watch are at it now, planking up and that.... Well, +I'm off! Ye've quarter an hour t' get your gear on. Lively, now! ..." +At the door he turned, eyeing the floor, now awash. "Look here, young +'un"--to poor, woebegone Munro--"the Mate says you're not to come on +deck. You stay here and bale up, an' if the damn place isn't dry when +we come below I'll hide the life out o' ye! ... Oh, it's no use +screwin' your face up. 'Cry baby' business is no good aboard a packet! +You buck up an' bale the house ... or ... look out!" He heaved at the +door, sprawled over, and floundered out into the black night. + +Munro turned a white, despairing face on us elders. We had no support +for him. Hansen was fumbling with his belt. I was drawing on my long +boots. Both of us seemed not to have heard. This was the way of the +half-deck. With Eccles it had been different. He was only a second +voyager, a dog-watch at sea--almost a 'greenhorn.' There was time +enough for him to 'chew the rag' when he had got the length of keeping +a regular 'wheel and look out.' Besides, it was a 'breach' for him to +start bossing about when there were two of his elders in the house. We +could fix him all right! + +Ah! But Jones! ... It was not that we were afraid of him. Either of +us would have plugged him one at the word 'Go!' if it had been a +straight affair between us. But this was no business of ours. Jones +was almost a man. In a month or two his time would be out. There +could be no interference, not a word could be said; it was--the way of +the half-deck. + +Swaying, sailor-like, on the reeling deck, we drew on our oilskins and +sea-boots, buckled our belts, tied down the flaps of our sou'westers, +and made ready. While we were at it Munro started on his task. He +filled the big bucket, dragged it half-way to the door, then sat down +heavily with a low cry of dismay. + +"What's the matter, Kid, eh?" said Hansen kindly. "Got the blues, eh? +Buck up, man! Blue's a rotten colour aboard ship! Here, hand me the +bucket!" + +He gripped the handle, stood listening for a chance, then swung the +door out an inch or two, and tipped the bucket. + +"It ... it's ... not ... that," said the youngster. "It's ... +s-s-staying in here w-when you fellows are on d-deck! ... Ye ... +s-said th' house m-might go ... any time! ... Let me come!..." + +"No, no! Th' Mate said you weren't t' come on deck! You stay here! +You'd only be in th' way! You'll be all right here; the rotten old box +'ll stand a few gales yet! ... What's that?" + +Above the shrilling of the gale we heard the Mate's bull roar: "All ... +hands ... wear ... ship!" + +We took our chance, swung the door to, and dashed out. Dismayed for a +moment--the sudden change from light to utter darkness--we brought up, +grasping the life-lines in the waist, and swaying to meet the wild +lurches of the ship. As our eyes sobered to the murk we saw the lift +of the huge seas that thundered down the wind. No glint of moon or +star broke through the mass of driving cloud that blackened the sky to +windward; only when the gleam of a breaking crest spread out could we +mark the depth to which we drove, or the height when we topped a wall +of foaming water. The old barque was labouring heavily, reeling to it, +the decks awash to our knees. Only the lower tops'ls and a stays'l +were set; small canvas, but spread enough to keep her head at the right +angle as wave after wave swept under or all but over her. "Stations!" +we heard the Mate calling from his post at the lee fore braces. "Lay +along here! Port watch, forrard!" + +We floundered through the swirl of water that brimmed the decks and +took our places. Aft, we could see the other watch standing by at the +main. Good! It would be a quick job, soon over! The Old Man was at +the weather gangway, conning the ship and waiting for a chance. Below +him, all hands stood at his orders--twenty-three lives were in his +keeping at the moment; but there was no thought of that--we knew our +Old Jock, we boasted of his sea cunning. At length the chance came; a +patch of lesser violence after a big sea had been met and surmounted. +The sure, steady eye marked the next heavy roller. There was time and +distance! ... "Helm up, there!" (Old Jock for a voice!) + +Now her head paid off, and the order was given, 'Square mainyards!' +Someone wailed a hauling cry and the great yards swung round, tops'l +lifting to the quartering wind. As the wind drew aft she gathered +weight and scudded before the gale. Seas raced up and crashed their +bulk at us when, at the word, we strained together to drag the +foreyards from the backstays. Now she rolled the rails under--green, +solid seas to each staggering lift. At times it seemed as if we were +all swept overboard there was no hold to the feet! We stamped and +floundered to find a solid place to brace our feet and knees against; +trailed out on the ropes--all afloat--when she scooped the ocean up, +yet stood and hauled when the chance was ours. A back roll would come. +"Hold all! ... Stand to it, sons! ..." With a jerk that seemed to +tear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. There +was no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." Then, to us +again: "Hay ... o ... Ho.... Hay ... o! ... Round 'em in, boys! ..." +Quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran in +the slack. + +"Vast haulin' foreyards! Turn all and lay aft!" We belayed the ropes, +and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. The +sea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail with +great fury. Twice the Second Mate, who was 'tending the weather +braces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "Haul +awaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post. +"Haul, you!" + +We dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again we +stood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to. + +"All hands off the deck!" roared the Mate when the headyards were +steadied. "Lay aft, all hands!" + +Drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in our +scramble for safe quarters--some to the poop, some to the main rigging. +We knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that. + +"All ready, Sir," said the Mate when he came aft to report. "All hands +are off the deck!" + +"Aye, aye!" Old Jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly for +a chance to put his helm down. There was a perceptible lull in the +wind, but the sea was high as ever. The heavy, racing clouds had +broken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through which +shone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for a +moment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over. + +It seemed a long time before the Old Man saw the 'smooth' he was +waiting for. A succession of big seas raced up, broke, and poured +aboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to the +trough. Now--the chance! "Ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "Stand +by, all!" Her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way was +well timed. + +Suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone on +the wet decks. The half-deck door was swung out--a figure blocked the +light, sprawling over the washboard--Munro! "Back!" we yelled. "Go +back!" + +There was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ran +forward, then aft, bewildered. + +The ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. Already her head was +driving down before the coming of the wave that was to check her way. +In a moment it would be over us. The Mate leapt to the ladder, but, as +he balanced, we saw one of the men in the main rigging slide down a +backstay, drop heavily on deck, recover, and dash on towards the boy. + +Broad on the beam of her, the sea tore at us and brimmed the decks--a +white-lashing fury of a sea, that swept fore and aft, then frothed in a +whelming torrent to leeward. + +When we got forward through the wash of it, we found Jones crouching +under the weather rail. One arm was jammed round the bulwark +stanchion, the wrist stiffened and torn by the wrench, the other held +the Kid--a limp, unconscious figure. + +"Carry him aft," said Jones. "I think ... he's ... all right ... only +half drowned!" He swayed as he spoke, holding his hand to his head, +gasping, and spitting out. "D-damn young swine! What ... he ... +w-want t' come on deck f-for? T-told ... him t' ... s-stay below!" + + + + +IV + +THE 'DEAD HORSE' + +Fine weather, if hot as the breath of Hades, and the last dying airs of +the nor'-east trades drifting us to the south'ard at a leisured three +knots. + +From the first streak of daylight we had been hard at work finishing up +the general overhaul cf gear and rigging that can only be done in the +steady trade winds. Now it was over; we could step out aloft, sure of +our foothold; all the treacherous ropes were safe in keeping of the +'shakin's cask,' and every block and runner was working smoothly, in +readiness for the shifting winds of the doldrums that would soon be +with us. + +The work done, bucket and spar were manned and, for the fourth time +that day, the sun-scorched planks and gaping seams of the deck were +sluiced down--a job at which we lingered, splashing the limpid water as +fast the wetted planks steamed and dried again. A grateful coolness +came with the westing of the tyrant sun, and when our miserable evening +meal had been hurried through we sought the deck again, to sit under +the cool draught of the foresail watching the brazen glow that attended +the sun's setting, the glassy patches of windless sea, the faint +ripples that now and then swept over the calm--the dying breath of a +stout breeze that had lifted us from 27 deg. North. What talk there was +among us concerned our voyage, a never-failing topic; and old Martin, +to set the speakers right, had brought his 'log'--a slender +yardstick--from the forecastle. + +"... ty-seven ... ty-eight ... twenty-nine," he said, counting a row of +notches. "Thirty days hout t'morrer, an' th' 'dead 'orse' is hup t' +day, sons!" + +"'Dead 'oss' hup t' dye? 'Ow d'ye mike that aht?" said 'Cockney' +Hicks, a man of importance, now promoted to bo'sun. "Fust Sunday we +wos in Channel, runnin' dahn th' Irish lights, worn't it?" + +"Aye!" + +"Secon' Sunday we wos routin' abaht in them strong southerly win's, +hoff th' Weste'n Isles?" + +"That's so," said Martin, patting his yard-stick, "Right-o!" + +"Third Sunday we 'ad th' trides, runnin' south; lawst Sunday wos fourth +Sunday hout, an' this 'ere's Friday--'peasoup-dye,' ain't it? 'Ow d'ye +mike a month o' that? 'Dead 'oss' ain't up till t'morrer, I reckon!" + +"Well, ye reckons wrong, bo'sun! Ye ain't a-countin' of th' day wot we +lay at anchor at th' Tail o' th' Bank!" + +"Blimy, no! I'd forgotten that dye!" + +"No! An' I tell ye th' 'dead 'orse' is hup, right enuff. I don't make +no mistake in my log.... Look at 'ere," pointing to a cross-cut at the +head of his stick. "That's the dye wot we lay at anchor--w'en you an' +me an' the rest ov us wos proper drunk. 'Ere we starts away," turning +to another side; "them up strokes is 'ead win's, an' them downs is +fair; 'ere's where we got that blow hoff th' Weste'n Isles," putting +his finger-nail into a deep cleft; "that time we carries away th' +topmas' stays'l sheet; an' 'ere's th' trade win's wot we're 'avin' now! +... All k'rect, I tell ye. Ain't no mistakes 'ere, sons!" He put the +stick aside the better to fill his pipe. + +"Vat yo' calls dem holes in de top, Martin, _zoone_? Dot vass +sometings, aind't id?" + +Vootgert, the Belgian, picked the stick up, turning it over carelessly. + +Martin snatched it away. + +"A course it's 'sometings,' ye Flemish 'og! If ye wants to know +pertiklar, them 'oles is two p'un' o' tebaccer wot I had sence I come +aboard. Don't allow no Ol' Man t' do _me_ in the bloomin' hye w'en it +comes t' tottin' th' bill! ... I'll watch it! I keeps a good tally ov +wot I gets, tho' I can't read nor write like them young 'know-alls' +over there" (Martin had no love for 'brassbounders'), "them wot orter +be aft in their proper place, an' not sittin' 'ere, chinnin' wi' th' +sailormen!" + +"Who's chinnin'?" said Jones, Martin's particular enemy. "Ain't said a +word! Not but what I wanted to ... sittin' here, listenin' to a lot of +bally rot about ye'r dead horses an' logs an' that!" + +Jones rose with a great pantomime of disgust (directed especially at +the old man), and went aft, leaving Munro and me to weather Martin's +rage. + +"Oh, shut up, Martin!" said the bo'sun. "They ain't doin' no 'arm! +Boys is boys!" + +"Ho no, they ain't, bo'sun: not in this ship, they ain't. Boys is men, +an' men's old beggars, 'ere! I don't 'old wi' them a-comin' forrard +'ere at awl! A place fer everything, an' everybody 'as 'is place, I +says! Captin' on the bloomin' poop o' her, an' cook t' th' foresheet! +That's shipshape an' Bristol fashion, ain't it?" + +"That's so, that's so! ... But them young 'uns is 'ere for +hin-for-mashun, eh?" + +Martin grumbled loudly and turned to counting his notches. "Know-alls! +That's wot _they_ is--ruddy know-alls! Told me I didn't know wot a +fair win' wos!" he muttered as he fingered his 'log.' + +"'Dead 'oss?'" said the bo'sun, turning to Munro. "'Dead 'oss' is th' +fust month out, w'en ye're workin' for ye'r boardin'-mawster. 'E gets +ye'r month's advawnce w'en ye sails, an' ye've got to work that hoff +afore ye earns any pay!" + +"Who vass ride your 'dead 'oss,' Martin?" asked the Belgian when quiet +was restored. + +"Oh, Jemmy Grant; 'im wot 'as an 'ouse in Springfield Lane. Come in t' +th' Clyde in th' _Loch Ness_ from Melb'un--heighty-five days, an' a +damn good passage too, an' twel' poun' ten of a pay day! Dunno' 'ow it +went.... Spent it awl in four or five days. I put up at Jemmy Grant's +for a week 'r two arter th' money was gone, an' 'e guv' me five bob an' +a new suit of oilskins out 'er my month's advawnce on this 'ere 'ooker!" + +"Indeed to goodness, now! That iss not pad at all, indeed," said John +Lewis, our brawny Welshman. "I came home in th' _Wanderer_, o' St. +Johnss, an' wass paid off with thirty-fife poun'ss, I tell 'oo. I +stayed in Owen Evanss' house in Great Clyde Street, an' when I went +there I give him ten poun'ss t' keep for me. 'Indeed, an' I will, m' +lad,' he sayss, 'an' 'oo can have it whenever 'oo likes,' he sayss.... +Damn him for a rogue, I tell 'oo!" + +Martin laughed. "Well, ye was soft. Them blokes' bizness is keepin', +ain't it?" + +"Iss, indeed! Well, I tell 'oo, I got in trouble with a policeman in +th' Broomielaw. It took four o' them to run me in, indeed!" pleasantly +reminiscent; "an' the next mornin' I wass put up for assaultin' th' +police. 'I don't know nothin' about it,' I sayss, when the old fella' +asked me. 'Thirty shillins' or fourteen days,' he sayss! ... Well, I +didn't haf any money left, but I told a policeman, and he said he would +send for Owen Evanss.... After a while Evanss come to the office, an' +they took me in. I was quite quiet, indeed, bein' sober, I tell +'oo.... 'Owen, _machgen-i_,' I sayss, 'will 'oo pay the thirty +shillin's out of the ten poun'ss I give 'oo?' 'What ten poun'ss?' he +sayss. 'What ten poun'ss?' I sayss. '_Diwedd-i_, the ten poun'ss I +give 'oo t' keep for me,' I sayss. 'Ten poun'ss,' he sayss, 'ten +poun'ss to keep for 'oo, an' it iss two weeks' board an' lodgin' 'oo +are owin' me, indeed!' 'Damn 'oo!' I sayss. 'Did I not give 'oo ten +poun'ss when I wass paid off out of the _Wanderer_, an' 'oo said 'oo +would keep it for ne and give it back again when I wanted it?' I +sayss.... 'What are 'oo talkin' about?' he sayss. ''Oo must be drunk, +indeed!' ... 'Have 'oo got a receipt for it, m' lad?' sayss the +Sergeant. 'No, indeed,' I sayss. 'I didn't ask him for a receipt.' +... 'Oh,' he sayss, 'we've heard this pefore,' he sayss, shuttin' th' +book an' signin' to the policeman to put me away. I made for Owen +Evanss, but there wass too many policemen indeed.... So I had to serve +the month, I tell 'oo!" John stroked his beard mournfully, muttering, +"Ten poun'ss, indeed! Ten poun'ss, py damm!" + +"An' didn't ye git square wi' th' bloke wot done ye?" asked the bo'sun. + +"Oh, iss! Iss, indeed!" John brightened up at thought of it. "When I +came out I went straight to Great Clyde Street an' give him th' best +hidin' he effer got, I tell 'oo! I took ten poun'ss of skin an' hair +out of him pefore th' police came. Fine! I think it wass fine, an' I +had to do two months for that.... When I come out the street wass full +of policemen, indeed, so I signed in this barque an' sold my advance +note to a Jew for ten pob!" + +Ten shillings! For what, if the discounter saw to it that his man went +to sea, was worth three pounds when the ship had cleared the Channel! +On the other hand, Dan Nairn, a Straits of Canso sailor-farmer (mostly +farmer), had something to say. + +"Waall, boy-ees, they ain't awl like that, I guess! I came acraus +caow-punchin' on a Donalds'n cattle boat, an' landed in Glasgow with +damn all but a stick ov chewin' tebaccer an' two dallars, Canad'n, in +my packet. I put up with a Scowwegian in Centre Street; a stiff good +feller too! Guess I was 'baout six weeks or more in 'is 'aouse, an' he +give me a tidy lot 'er fixin's--oilskins an' sea-boots an' awl--out 'er +my month's advance." + +"Oh, some is good and some ain't," said Martin. "Ah knowed a feller +wot 'ad an 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse in Tiger Bay. Awl th' stiffs in +Cardiff use' ter lay back on 'im w'en nobody else 'ud give 'em 'ouse +room--hoodlums and Dagos an' Greeks wot couldn't get a ship proper. 'E +'ad rooms in 'is 'ouse fitted up wi' bunks like a bloomin' fo'cs'le, +ah' 'is crowd got their grub sarved out, same's they wos at sea. Every +tide time 'e wos down at th' pier-'ead wi' six or seven of 'is +gang--'ook-pots an' pannikins, an' bed an' piller--waitin' their chanst +ov a 'pier-'ead jump.' That wos th' only way 'e could get 'is men +away, 'cos they worn't proper sailormen as c'd go aboard a packet 'n +ast for a sight like you an' me. Most of 'em 'ad bad discharges or +dead-'un's papers or somethin'! 'Pier-'ead jumps,' they wos, an' they +wouldn't never 'a' got a ship, only f'r that feller an' 'is 'ard-up +boardin'-'ouse." + +Martin picked up his precious 'log' and turned to go below. "Anyways, +good or bad," he said, "them 'sharks' 'as got my ol' iron fer the last +month, an' if this worn't a starvation bloomin' Scotch packet, an' a +crew of bloomin' know-alls, fixing me with a fancy curl of lip, we'd a +_chanteyed_ th' 'dead 'orse' aft t'night an' ast th' Ol' Man t' splice +the mainbrace." + +He passed into the forecastle, and through the open door we could hear +him sing a snatch of the 'dead horse' _chantey_:-- + + "_But now th' month is up, ol' turk!_ + (_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) + _Get up, ye swine, an' look fer work!_ + (_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_) + + "_Get up, ye swine, an' look fer graft!_ + (_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._) + _While we lays on an' yanks ye aft!_ + (_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_)" + + + + +V + +'SEA PRICE' + +At first weak and baffling, the south-east trades strengthened and blew +true as we reached away to the south'ard under all sail. Already we +had forgotten the way of bad weather. It seemed ages since we had last +tramped the weltering decks, stamping heavily in our big sea-boots for +warmth, or crouching in odd corners to shelter from the driven spray, +the bitter wind and rain. Now we were fine-weather voyagers--like the +flying-fish and the albacore, and bonita, that leapt the sea we sailed +in. The tranquil days went by in busy sailor work; we spent the nights +in a sleepy languor, in semi-wakefulness. In watch below we were +assured of our rest, and even when 'on deck'--save for a yawning pull +at sheet or halyard when the Mate was jealous at our idling, or a brief +spell at wheel or look out--were at liberty to seek out a soft plank +and lie back, gazing up at the gently swaying mastheads till sleep came +again. Higher and higher, as the days went by, the southern stars rose +from the sea-line, while--in the north--homely constellations dipped +and were lost to view. Night by night we had the same true breeze, the +sea unchanged, the fleecy trade clouds forming on the sea-line--to fade +ere they had reached the zenith. There seemed no end to our pleasured +progress! Ah, it is good to be alive and afloat where the trades blow. +Down south, there! + +But, in spite of the fine weather and the steady breeze, there were +signs of what our voyage would be when the 'barefoot days' were done. +Out beyond the clear sky and tender clouds, the old hands saw the +wraith of the rugged Cape that we had yet to weather. The impending +wrestle with the rigours of 'the Horn' sent them to their preparations +when we had scarce crossed the Line. Old Martin was the fore hand. +Now, his oilskins hung out over the head, stretched on hoops and +broomsticks, glistening in a brave new coat of oil and blacking. Then +Vootgert and Dutch John took the notion, and set to work by turns at a +canvas wheel-coat that was to defy the worst gale that ever blew. +Young Houston--canny Shetlander--put aside his melodeon, and clicked +and clicked his needles at a famous pair of north-country hose. Welsh +John and M'Innes--'the Celtic twins'--clubbed their total outfit and +were busy overhauling, while Bo'sun Hicks spent valuable time and +denied us his yarns while he fortified his leaky bunk by tar and strips +of canvas. Even Wee Laughlin, infected by the general industry of the +forecastle, was stitching away (long, outward-bound stitches) at a +cunning arrangement of trousers that would enable him to draw on his +two pairs at once. All had some preparation to make--all but we +brassbounders! + +We saw no farther than the fine weather about us. Most had been 'round +the Horn' before, and we should have known but there was no old +'steady-all' to ballast our cock-a-boat, and we scorned the wisdom of +the forecastle. 'Good enough t' be goin' on with,' and 'come day, go +day'--were our mottoes in the half-deck. Time enough, by and by, when +the weather showed a sign! We had work enough when on duty to keep us +healthy! Fine days and 'watch below' were meant for lazying--for old +annuals of the B.O.P., for Dicks's Standards, for the Seaside library! +Everyone knows that the short dog-watches were meant for sing-song and +larking, and, perhaps, a fight, or two! What did we care if Old Martin +and his mates were croak, croak, croakin' about 'standin' by' and +settin' th' gear handy? We were 'hard cases,' all of us, even young +Munro and Burke, the 'nipper' of the starboard watch! _We_ didn't +care! _We_ could stand the racket! _Huh!_ + +So we lazied the fine days away, while our sea harness lay stiffening +in the dark lockers. + +Subtly, almost imperceptibly, the weather changed. There was a chill +in the night air; it was no longer pleasant to sleep on deck. The +stars were as bright, the sky as clear, the sea as smooth; but when the +sun had gone, damp vapours came and left the deck chill and clammy to +the touch.... 'Barefoot days' were over! + +Still and all, the 'times' were good enough. If the flying-fish no +longer swept from under the bows in a glistening shoal, the trades yet +served us well. The days drew on. The day when we shifted the patched +and threadbare tropic sails and bent our stoutest canvas in their +place; the day when Sann'y Armstrong, the carpenter, was set to make +strong weatherboards for the cabin skylights; the day--a cloudy +day--when the spars were doubly lashed and all spare fittings sent +below. We had our warning; there were signs, a plenty! + +All too soon our sunny days came to an end. The trades petered out in +calms and squally weather. Off the River Plate a chill wind from the +south set us to 'tack and tack,' and when the wind hauled and let us +free to our course again, it was only to run her into a gale on the +verge of the 'Forties.' Then for three days we lay hove-to, labouring +among heavy seas. + +The 'buster' fairly took our breath away. The long spell of light +winds had turned us unhandy for storm work. The swollen ropes, +stiffened in the block-sheaves, were stubborn when we hauled; the wet, +heavy canvas that thrashed at us when stowing sail proved a fighting +demon that called for all our strength; the never-ending small work in +a swirl of lashing water found us slow and laboured at the task. + +All this was quickly noted by the Mate, and he lost no time in putting +us to rights. Service in New Bedford whalers had taught him the +'Yankee touch,' and, as M'Innes put it, he was 'no' slow' with his big +hands. + +"Lay along here, sons," he would roar, standing to the braces.... "Lay +along, sons;--ye know what sons I mean! ... Aft here, ye lazy hounds, +and see me make 'sojers,' sailors!!" + +With his language we had no great grievance. We could appreciate a man +who said things--sailor-like and above board--but when it came to +knocking a man about (just because he was 'goin' t' get his oilskins,' +when the order was 'aloft, an' furl') there were ugly looks here and +there. We had our drilling while the gale lasted, and, when it +cleared, our back muscles were 'waking up.' + +Now--with moderate weather again--famous preparations began in the +half-deck; everyone of us was in haste to put his weather armour to +rights. Oilskins, damp and sticking, were dragged from dark corners. +"Rotten stuff, anyway. We'll have no more of Blank's outfits, after +this," we said, as we pulled and pinched them apart. "Oh, damn! I +forgot about that stitchin' on the leg of my sea-boot," said one. +"Wish I'd had time t' put a patch on here," said another, ruefully +holding out his rubbers. "Too far gone for darning," said Eccles. +"Here goes," and he snipped the feet part from a pair of stockings and +tied a ropeyarn at the cut! + +We were jeered at from the forecastle. Old Martin went about +_clucking_ in his beard. At every new effort on our part, his head +went nod, nod, nodding. "Oh, them brassbounders!" he would say. "Them +ruddy 'know-alls'! Wot did I tell ye, eh? Wot did I tell 'em, w'en we +was a-crossin' th' Line, eh? An' them 's th' fellers wot'll be +a-bossin' of you an' me, bo'sun! Comin' th' 'hard case,' like the big +feller aft there!" + +Martin was right, and we felt properly humbled when we sneaked forward +in search of assistance. Happily, in Dan Nairn we found a cunning +cobbler, and for a token in sea currency--a plug or two of hard +tobacco--he patched and mended our boots. With the oilskins, all our +smoothing and pinching was hopeless. The time was gone when we could +scrub the sticky mess off and put a fresh coating of oil on the fabric. + +Ah! We pulled long faces now and thought that, perhaps, sing-song and +larking, and Dicks's Standards and the Seaside Library are not good +value for a frozen soaking off the Horn! + +But there was still a haven to which we careless mariners could put in +and refit. The Captain's 'slop chest'--a general store, where oilskins +were 'sea priced' at a sovereign, and sea-boots could be had for thirty +shillings! At these figures they would have stood till they crumbled +in a sailor-town shop window, but 50 deg. S. is a world away from +Broomielaw Corner, and we were glad enough to be served, even if old +Niven, the steward, did pass off old stock on us. + +"Naw! Ye'll no' get ye'r pick! Yell jist tak' whit 's gien' ye ... or +nane ava'!" + +Wee Laughlin was a large buyer. He--of us all--had come to sea 'same +'s he was goin' t' church!' A pier-head jump! So far, he had borrowed +and borrowed, but even good-natured Dutch John was learning English, +and would say, "Jou come to _mein haus, und_ stay mit me," or "_Was +fuer_ jou nod trink less _und_ buy somet'ings," at each wily approach. + +On the day when 'slops' were served out, the Pride of Rue-en' Street +was first at the cabin door. As he was fitted and stepped along +forward with his purchases, the bo'sun saw him, and called: "Hello! +Oilskins an' sea-boots an' new shirts, eh? I see ye're outward bound, +young feller!" Laughlin leered and winked cunning-like. + +"What d'ye mean by outward bound," asked Munro. "We're all outward +bound, an't we?" + +"Of course; of course," said Hicks. "All outward bound! But w'en I +says it that wye, I mean as Lawklin is a-spendin' of 'is 'dibs,' ... +meanin' t' desert w'en we gets out! If 'e don't 'op it as soon as we +anchors in 'Frisco Bay, ye kin call me a ruddy Dutchman!" + +"Desert? But that's serious?" + +"Ho no! Not there it ain't! Desertin' 's as easy as rollin' off a +log, ... out there! D'ye think th' queer-fella' is goin' t' pay them +prices for 'is kit, if 'e wos goin' t' stop by her in 'Frisco? Not +much 'e ain't! An' ye kin tike it as a few more is goin' t' 'op it, or +ye wouldn't see so many of 'em aft 'ere for their bloomin' 'sundries'!" + +"_Wel, wel_, now! These prices is not pad, indeed," said Welsh John, +who had joined us. "I haf paid more than three shillin' for a knife +pefore!" + +"_Heh! Heh!_" The bo'sun laughed. "When a 'Taffy' that's a-buyin' +says that, ye may say it's right! ... But, blimy--the boot's on th' +other foot w'en it's 'Taffy' as is a-sellin'! _Heh! Heh!_ There wos +Old Man Lewis of th' _Vanguard_, o' Liverpool, that I signed in! +Blimy! 'e could tell ye wot 'sea price' is!" + +"Good ol' 'sea price,'" said Martin. "Many an' 'appy 'ome, an' garden +wit' a flagstaff, is built o' 'sea price'!" + +"Right, ol' son! Right," continued the bo'sun. "Old Man Lewis owned a +row of 'em, ... down in Fishguard.... I sailed in th' _Vanguard_ out +o' Liverpool t' Noo York an' then down south, 'ere--boun' t' Callao. +Off th' Falklan's, the Old Man opens out 'is bloomin' slop-chest an' +starts dealin'. A pound for blankits wot ye c'd shoot peas through, +an' fifteen bob for serge shirts--same kind as th' Sheenies sells a' +four an' tanner in th' Mawrsh! Of course, nobody 'ud buy 'em in at +that price, though we wos all 'parish rigged'--us bein' 'bout eight +months out from 'ome. If we 'ad been intendin' t' leave 'er, like th' +queer-fella, there, it 'ud a bin all right, but we 'ad 'bout +twenty-five poun' doo each of us, an' we wasn't keen on makin' th' Old +Man a n'ansome presint!" + +"How could he get that?" + +"'Ow could 'e get it? Easy 'nuff, in them days! As soon as we 'ad a +bin over th' rail, 'e 'ud 'ave us down in 'is bloomin' book--slops +supplied--five pun' 'ere--six pun' there--an' so on! ... Well, I was +sayin' as we was goin' south, round th' 'Orn! Winter time it was--an' +cold! Cruel! Ye couldn't tell who ye'r feet belonged to till ye 'ad +ye'r boots off. West an' sou'-west gales, 'ard runnin', ... an' there +we wos, away t' hell an' gone south' o' th' reg'lar track! + +"I wos at the wheel one day, an' I 'eard th' Old Man an' th' Mate +confabbin' 'bout th' ship's position. + +"'Fifty-nine, forty, south,' says th' Mate. 'Antarctic bloody +exploration, I call this!' ... 'E was frappin' 'is 'an's like a +Fenchurch cabby.... 'It's 'bout time ye wos goin' round, Capt'n! +She'd fetch round 'Cape Stiff' with a true west wind! She'll be in +among th' ice soon, if ye don't alter th' course! Time we was gettin' +out o' this,' says he, 'with two of th' han's frost-bit an' th' rest of +us 'bout perishin'!' + +"'Oh no,' says old Lewis. 'No, indeed! Don't you make any mistike, +Mister! South's th' course, ... south till I sells them fine blankits +an' warm shirts!'" + + + + +VI + +ROUNDING THE HORN + +Rounding Cape Horn from the eastward, setting to the teeth of the great +west wind, to the shock and onset of towering seas; furious combination +of the elements that sweep unchecked around the globe! + +Days passed, and we fared no farther on. North we would go with the +yards hard on the back-stays; to wear ship, and steer again south over +the same track. Hopeless work it was, and only the prospect of a +slant--a shift of wind that would let us to our journey--kept us +hammering doggedly at the task. + +Day after day of huge sea and swell, mountainous in calm or storm. +Leaden-grey skies, with a brief glint of sunshine now and then--for it +was nominally summer time in low latitudes. Days of gloomy calm, +presage of a fiercer blow, when the Old Man (Orcadian philosopher that +he was) caught and skilfully stuffed the great-winged albatross that +flounders helplessly when the wind fails. Days of strong breezes, when +we tried to beat to windward under a straining main-to'gal'nsail; ever +a west wind to thwart our best endeavours, and week-long gales, that we +rode out, hove-to in the trough of overwhelming seas, lurching to +leeward under low canvas. + +We had become sailors in earnest. We had forgotten the way of steady +trades and flying-fish weather, and, when the wind howled a whole gale, +we slapped our oilskin-clad thighs and lied cheerfully to each other of +greater gales we had been in. Even Wee Laughlin and M'Innes were +turned to some account and talked of sail and spars as if they had +never known the reek of steamer smoke. In the half-deck we had little +comfort during watch below. At every lurch of the staggering barque, a +flood of water poured through the crazy planking, and often we were +washed out by an untimely opening of the door. Though at heart we +would rather have been porters at a country railway station, we put a +bold front to the hard times and slept with our wet clothes under us +that they might be the less chilly for putting on at eight bells. We +had seldom a stitch of dry clothing, and the galley looked like a +corner of Paddy's market whenever McEwan, the 'gallus' cook, took pity +on our sodden misery. + +In the forecastle the men were better off. Collins had rigged an +affair of pipes to draw the smoke away, and it was possible, in all but +the worst of weather, to keep the bogie-stove alight. We would gladly +have shifted to these warmer quarters, but our parents had paid a +premium for _privileged berthing_, and the Old Man would not hear of +our flitting. Happily, we had little darkness to add to the misery of +our passage, for the sun was far south, and we had only three hours of +night. Yet, when the black squalls of snow and sleet rolled up from +the westward, there was darkness enough. At times a flaw in the +wind--a brief veering to the south--would let us keep the ship +travelling to the westward. All hands would be in high spirits; we +would go below at the end of our watches, making light of sodden +bedclothes, heartened that at last our 'slant' had come. Alas for our +hopes! Before our watch was due we would be rudely wakened. "_All +hands wear ship_"--the dreaded call, and the Mate thundering at the +half-deck door, shouting orders in a threatening tone that called for +instant spur. Then, at the braces, hanging to the ropes in a swirl of +icy water, facing up to the driving sleet and bitter spray, that cut +and stung like a whiplash. And when at last the yards were laid to the +wind, and the order '_down helm_' was given, we would spring to the +rigging for safety, and, clinging desperately, watch the furious sweep +of a towering 'greybeard' over the barque, as she came to the wind and +lay-to. + +Wild, heart-breaking work! Only the old hands, 'hard cases' like +Martin and Welsh John and the bo'sun, were the stoics, and there was +some small comfort in their "Whoo! This ain't nuthin'! Ye sh'd a' bin +shipmates with me in the ol' _Boryallus_!" (Or some such ancient +craft.) "_Them_ wos 'ard times!" + +Twice we saw Diego Ramirez and the Iledefonsos, with an interval of a +fortnight between the sightings--a cluster of bleak rocks, standing out +of surf and broken water, taking the relentless battery of huge seas +that swept them from base to summit. Once, in clear weather, we marked +a blue ridge of land far to the norrard, and Old Martin and Vootgert +nearly came to blows as to whether it was Cape Horn or the False Cape. + +Fighting hard for every inch of our laboured progress, doubling back, +crossing, recrossing (our track on the old blue-back chart was a maze +of lines and figures) we won our way to 70 deg. W., and there, in the +hardest gale of the passage, we were called on for tribute, for one +more to the toll of sailor lives claimed by the rugged southern gateman. + +All day the black ragged clouds had swept up from the south-west, the +wind and sea had increased hourly in violence. At dusk we had +shortened sail to topsails and reefed foresail. But the Old Man hung +on to his canvas as the southing wind allowed us to go 'full and by' to +the nor'-west. Hurtling seas swept the decks, tearing stout fittings +from their lashings. The crazy old half-deck seemed about to fetch +loose with every sea that crashed aboard. From stem to stern there was +no shelter from the growing fury of the gale; but still the Old Man +held to his course to make the most of the only proper 'slant' in six +weary weeks. + +At midnight the wind was howling slaughter, and stout Old Jock, +dismayed at last at the furious sea upreared against him, was at last +forced to lay her to. In a piping squall of snow and sleet we set to +haul up the foresail. Even the nigger could not find heart to rouse +more than a mournful _i--o--ho_ at the buntlines, as we slowly dragged +the heavy slatting canvas to the yard. Intent on the work, we had no +eye to the weather, and only the Captain and steersman saw the sweep of +a monster sea that bore down on us, white-crested and curling. + +"Stand by," yelled the Old Man. "Hang on, for your lives, men! +Christ! Hold hard there!" + +Underfoot we felt the ship falter in swing--an ominous check in her +lift to the heaving sea. Then out of the blackness to windward a swift +towering crest reared up--a high wall of moving water, winged with +leagues of tempest at its back. It struck us sheer on the broadside, +and shattered its bulk aboard in a whelming torrent, brimming the decks +with a weight that left no life in the labouring barque. We were swept +to leeward at the first shock, a huddled mass of writhing figures, and +dashed to and fro with the sweep of the sea. Gradually, as the water +cleared, we came by foothold again, sorely bruised and battered. + +"Haul away again, men!" The Mate, clearing the blood of a head wound +from his eyes, was again at the foretack giving slack. "Hell! what ye +standing at? Haul away, blast ye! Haul an' rouse her up!" + +Half-handed, we strained to raise the thundering canvas; the rest, with +the Second Mate, were labouring at the spare spar, under which Houston, +an ordinary seaman, lay jammed with his thigh broken. Pinching with +handspikes, they got him out and carried aft, and joined us at the +gear; and at last the sail was hauled up. "_Aloft and furl_," was the +next order, and we sprang to the rigging in time to escape a second +thundering 'grey-beard.' + +It was dark, with a black squall making up to windward, as we laid out +on the yard and grappled with the wet and heavy canvas. Once we had +the sail up, but the wind that burst on us tore it from our stiffened +fingers. Near me a grown man cried with the pain of a finger-nail torn +from the flesh. We rested a moment before bending anew to the task. + +"Handy now, laads!" the Second Mate at the bunt was roaring down the +wind. "Stick t it, ma herts, ... hold aal, now! ... Damn ye, hold it, +you. Ye haandless sojer! ... Up, m' sons; up an' hold aal." + +Cursing the stubborn folds, swaying dizzily on the slippery footropes, +shouting for hold and gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed +monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. A turn of the +gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were +as weak and breathless as ourselves. The squall caught at an open lug, +and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard. + +There was a low but distinct cry, "Oh, Christ!" from the quarter, and +M'Innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. For a +moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the +thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to +come off the yard.... "The starboard boat .... Who? ... Duncan ... +It's Duncan gone.... Quick there, the star ... the lashings!" + +The Second Mate checked their movement. + +"No! No! Back, ye fools! Back, I say! Man canna' help Duncan now!" + +He stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his +heavy sea-boot menacingly. + +"Back, I say! Back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow +Duncan!" + +Slowly we laid out the yard again, and set sullenly to master Duncan's +murderer. + +A lull came. We clutched and pounded at the board-like cloths, dug +with hooked fingers to make a crease for handhold, and at last turned +the sail to the yard, though lubberly and ill-furled. + +One by one, as our bit was secured, we straggled down the rigging. +Some of the hands were aft on the lee side of the poop, staring into +the darkness astern--where Duncan was. Munro, utterly unmanned, was +crying hysterically. In his father's country manse, he had known +nothing more bitter than the death of a favourite collie. Now he was +at sea, and by his side a man muttered, "Dead?--My God, I hope he's +dead, ... out there!" + +The Old Man crossed over from the weather side, and addressing the men, +said: "The Second Mate tells me ye wanted t' get t' th' boat when +M'Innes .... went.... I'm pleased that ye've that much guts in ye, +but I could risk no boat's crew in a sea like this.... Besides, I'm +more-ally certain that M'Innes was dead before he took the water. Eh, +Mister?" + +"Aye ... dead," said the Mate. "I saw him strike the to'gal'nt rail, +and no man could live after a blow like that. Dead, sure!" + +Old Jock returned to his post under the weather-cloth, and the Mate +ordered the watch below. + +So Duncan took his discharge, and a few days later, in clearing +weather, his few belongings were sold at the mast. It was known that +he wasn't married, but Welsh John, who knew him best, said he had +spoken of his mother in Skye; and the Old Man kept a few letters and +his watch that he might have something besides his money to send to +Duncan's relatives. + +As if Duncan had paid our toll for rounding the storm-scarred Cape, the +weather cleared and winds set fair to us after that last dread night of +storm. Under a press of canvas we put her head to the norrard, and +soon left the Horn and the 'Roaring Forties' astern. + + * * * * * + +One night, in the middle watch, when we had nearly run out the +south-east trades, I went forward, looking for someone to talk to, or +anything to relieve the tedium of my two hours on the lee side of the +poop. I found Welsh John sitting on the main-hatch and disposed to +yarn. He had been the most intimate with Duncan, harkening to his +queer tales of the fairies in Knoidart when we others would scoff, and +naturally the talk came round to our lost shipmate. + +It was bright moonlight, and the shadow of sails and rigging was cast +over the deck. Near us, in the lee of the house, some sleepers lay +stretched. The Mate stepped drowsily fore and aft the poop, now and +then squinting up at the royals. + +"I wonder what brought Duncan to a windjammer," I said. "He was too +old to be starting the sea, an' there were plenty of jobs on the river +for a well-doin' man like him." + +Welsh John spat carefully on the deck, and, after looking round, said, +"Tuncan was here, indeed, because he thought the police would bother +him. He told me he wass in a small steamboat that runs from Loch Fyne +to the Clyde, an' the skipper was a man from Killigan or Kalligan, near +Tuncan's place." + +"Kyle-akin," I suggested. + +"That iss it, Kyle-akin; an' he was very far in drink. They started +from Inverary for the river, and it wass plowin' strong from the +south-east, an' the small boat wass makin' very bad weather, indeed. +The skipper wass very trunk, an' Tuncan, who wass steerin', said they +should put in to shelter for the night. But the skipper wass +quarrelsome, an' called Tuncan a coward an' a nameless man from Skye, +an' they came to plows. Tuncan let go the tiller, an' the small boat +came broadside on, and shipped a big sea, an' when Tuncan got to the +tiller an' put it up, the skipper was gone. They never saw him, so +they came on to the Clyde, where Tuncan left the poat. An' they were +askin' questions from him, an' Tuncan was afraid; but indeed to +goodness he had no need to pe. So he shipped with us--a pier-head jump +it wass...." + +A sleeper stirred uneasily, rolled over, and cursed us for a pair of +chatterin' lawyers. + +We were both quiet for a moment or two; then the strident voice of the +Mate rang out, "Boy! Boy! Where the hell have you got to now? Lay +aft and trim the binnacle!" + +I mounted the poop ladder, muttering the usual excuse about having been +to see the side-lights. I trimmed the lamps, and as it was then a +quarter to four, struck one bell and called the watch. As I waited on +the poop to strike the hour, the men were turning out forward, and I +could hear the voice of the eldest apprentice chiding the laggards in +the half-deck. I thought of Duncan, and of what Welsh John had told me. + +"Aye, aye, that was Duncan. That was the way of it. I always wond----" + +_Cla--clang--Cla--clang--Cla--clang--Cla--clang._ + +The Mate, anxious to get his head on pillow, had flogged the clock and +had struck eight bells himself. + + + + +VII + +A HOT CARGO + +Shorefolk can have but a hazy idea of all that it means to the +deep-water sailor when at last, after long voyaging, the port of his +destination heaves in sight. For months he has been penned up on +shipboard, the subject of a discipline more strict than that in any way +of life ashore. The food, poor in quality, and of meagre allowance at +the best, has become doubly distasteful to him. The fresh water has +nearly run out, and the red rusty sediment of the tank bottoms has a +nauseating effect and does little to assuage the thirst engendered by +salt rations. Shipmates have told and retold their yarns, discussions +now verge perilously on a turn of fisticuffs. He is wearying of sea +life, is longing for a change, for a break in the monotony of day's +work and watch-keeping, of watch-keeping and day's work. + +A welcome reaction comes on the day when he is ordered to put the +harbour gear in readiness. Generally he has only a hazy notion of the +ship's position (it is sea fashion to keep that an Officers' secret), +and the rousing up of the long idle anchor chains and tackle is his +first intimation that the land is near, that any day may now bring the +shore to view, that soon he will be kicking his heels in a sailor-town +tavern, washing off his 'salt casing' with lashings of the right stuff. + +This was in part our case when we were a hundred and forty days out +from the Clyde. The food was bad and short allowance; the key of the +pump was strictly guarded, but we had excitement enough and to spare, +for, six days before our 'landfall,' the bo'sun discovered fire in the +fore-hold that had evidently been smouldering for some time, was +deep-seated, and had secured a firm hold. + +It was difficult to get at the fire on account of the small hatchway, +and notwithstanding the laboured efforts of all hands, we were at last +obliged to batten the hatches down and to trust to a lucky 'slant' to +put us within hail of assistance. The water which we had so +fruitlessly poured below had all to be pumped out again to get the ship +in sailing trim; and heart-breaking work it was, with the wheezy old +pump sucking every time the ship careened to leeward. Anxiety showed +on all faces, and it was with great relief that, one day at noon, we +watched the Mate nailing a silver dollar to the mizzenmast. The dollar +was his who should first sight the distant shore. + +We held a leading wind from the norrard, and when, on the afternoon of +a bright day, we heard the glad shout from the fore-tops'l +yard--"Land-oh"--we put a hustle on our movements, and, light at heart, +found excuse to lay aloft to have a far-away look at God's good earth +again. It was the Farallone Islands we had made--thirty miles west +from the Golden Gate--a good landfall. Dutch John was the lucky man to +see it first, and we gave him a cheer as he laid aft to take the dollar +off the mast. + +In the second dog-watch we hung about the decks discussing prospective +doings when we set foot ashore, and those who had been in 'Frisco +before formed centres of inquiry and importance. From the bearing of +the land, we expected orders to check in the yards, but, greatly to our +surprise, the Mate ordered us to the lee fore-brace, and seemed to be +unable to get the yards far enough forrard to please him. When Wee +Laughlin came from the wheel at eight bells, we learned that the ship +was now heading to the nor'east, and away from our port; and the old +hands, with many shakings of the head, maintained that some tricky game +was afoot. The Old Man and the Mate were colloguing earnestly at the +break of the poop; and Jones, who went aft on a pretence of trimming +the binnacle, reported that the Old Man was expressing heated opinions +on the iniquity of salvage. At midnight we squared away, but as we +approached the land the wind fell light and hauled ahead. Wonder of +wonders! This seemed to please the Captain hugely, and his face beamed +like a nor'west moon every time he peered into the compass. + +Dawn found us well to the norrard of the islands, and close-hauled, +standing into the land. From break of day all hands were busy getting +the anchors cleared and the cables ranged. Some were engaged painting +out the rusty bits on the starboard top-side. A 'work-up' job they +thought it was until the Mate ordered them to leave the stages hanging +over the water abreast of the fore-hatch. Here the iron plating was +hot, the paint was blistered off, and every time the ship heeled over +there was an unmistakable _sssh_ as the water lapped the heated side. +This, and the smell of hot iron, was all that there was to tell of our +smouldering coal below, but 'Frisco men from the Water Front are sharp +as ferrets, and very little would give them an inkling of the state of +affairs. Presently we raised the land broad on the port bow, and two +of us were perched on the fore-to'gal'nt yard to look out for the pilot +schooner; or, if luck was in our way, a tow-boat. The land became more +distinct as the day wore on, and the bearing of several conspicuous +hills gave the Captain the position he sought. Before noon we reported +smoke ahead, and the Mate, coming aloft with his telescope, made out +the stranger to be a tow-boat, and heading for us. We were called down +from aloft, and the ship was put about. + +We were now, for the second time, heading away from our port; and when +the Mate set us to slap the paint on the burned patch, we understood +the Old Man's manoeuvre, which had the object of preventing the +tow-boat from rounding to on our starboard side. Her skipper would +there have assuredly seen evidences of our plight, and would not have +been slow to take advantage of it. + +The tug neared us rapidly (they lose no time on the Pacific slope), and +the Captain recognised her as the _Active_. + +"She's one of Spreckel's boats," said he, shutting his glass. "Cutbush +runs her, an' he's a dead wide ane. If he smells a rat, Mister, we'll +be damned lucky if we get into harbour under a couple o' thousand." + +We were all excited at the game, though it mattered little to us what +our owners paid, as long as we got out of our hot corner. Straight for +us he came, and when he rounded our stern and lay up on the lee +quarter, the bo'sun voiced the general opinion that the Old Man had +done the trick. + +"Morn, Cap.! Guess ye've bin a long time on th' road," sang out the +tow-boat's skipper, eyeing our rusty side and grassy counter. + +"Head winds," said the Old Man, "head winds, an' no luck this side o' +th' Horn." + +"Ye're a long way to th' norrard, Cap. Bin havin' thick weather +outside?" + +"Well, not what ye might call thick, but musty, these last few days. +We were lookin' to pick up the Farallones." (The unblushing old +Ananias!) + +There ensued a conversation about winds and weather, ships and +freights, interspersed with the news of five months back. The talk +went on, and neither seemed inclined to get to business. At last the +tow-boat man broke the ice. + +"Wall, Cap., I reckon ye don't want t' stay here all day. Wind's +easterly inside, an' there ain't none too much water on th' bar. Ye'd +better give us yer hawser 'n let's git right along." + +"Oh! no hurry, Capt'in; there's no hurry. What's a day here or there +when ye'r well over the hundreds? I can lay up to th' pilot ground on +th' next tack.... Ye'll be wantin' a big figure from here, an' my +owners won't stand a long pull." + +"Only six hundred, Cap., only six hundred, with your hawser." + +The Old Man started back in amazement. + +"Six hundred dollars, Capt'in. Did you say six hundred? Holy smoke! +I don't want t' buy yer boat, Capt'in.... Six hundred--well, I'm +damned. Loose them royals, Mister! Six hundred, no damn fear!" + +Quickly we put the royals on her, though they were little use, the wind +having fallen very light. The tow-boat sheered off a bit, and her +skipper watched us sheeting-home, as if it were a most interesting and +uncommon sight. + +He gave his wheel a spoke or two and came alongside again. + +"All right, Cap. Give us yer hawser 'n I'll dock ye for five-fifty!" + +The Old Man paid no attention to his request, but paced fore and aft +the weather side, gazing occasionally at the lazy royals, then fixing +the man at the wheel with a reproachful eye. At last he turned to +leeward with a surprised expression, as if astonished to find the +tow-boat still there. + +"Come, Cap.! Strike it right naow! What d'ye offer? Mind the wind, +as there is ov it, is due east in the Strait." + +The Old Man thought carefully for quite a time. "Hundred 'n fifty, 'n +your hawser," he said. + +The Captain of the _Active_ jammed his telegraph at full speed ahead. + +"Good morn', Cap.," he said. "Guess I'll see ye in 'Frisco this side +o' the Noo Year." He forged rapidly ahead, and when clear of the bows +took a long turn to seaward. The Mate took advantage of his being away +and wiped off the paint on the burned patch, which was beginning to +smell abominably. Fresh paint was hurriedly put on, and the stages +were again aboard when the _Active_, finding nothing to interest her on +the western horizon, returned--again to the lee quarter. + +"Saay, Cap., kan't we do a deal; kan't we meet somewhere?" said +Cutbush, conciliatory. "Say five hundred or four-eighty, 'n I'll toss +ye for th' hawser?" + +"I can't do it, Capt'in.... I'd lose my job if I went," (here the Old +Man paused to damn the steersman's eyes, and to tell him to keep her +full) "if I went that length." + +The tow-boat again sheered off, and her skipper busied himself with his +telescope. + +"Wall, Cap., she may be a smart barque, but I'm darn ef ye can beat her +though the Golden Gate the way th' wind is. Saay! Make it +three-fifty? What the hell's about a fifty dollars. Darn me! I've +blown that in half-hour's poker!" + +"Aye, aye! That's so; but I'm no' takin' a hand in that game. Set the +stays'ls, Mister, 'n get a pull on the fore 'n main sheets!" + +We went about the job, and the _Active_ took another turn, this time to +the south'ard. Munro, aloft loosing the staysails, reported a steamer +away under the land. She was sending up a dense smoke, and that caused +the Old Man to account her another tow-boat out seeking. + +"That'll fetch him," he said to the Mate, "'n if he offers again I'll +close. Three-fifty's pretty stiff, but we can't complain." + +"Egad, no!" said the Mate; "if I'd been you I'd have closed for five +hundred, an' be done with it." + +"Aye, aye, no doubt! no doubt! But ye're not a Scotchman looking after +his owners' interest." + +Soon we saw the _Active_ smoking up and coming towards us with 'a bone +in her mouth.' Cutbush had seen the stranger's smoke, and he lost no +time. He seemed to be heading for our starboard side, and we thought +the game was up; but the Old Man kept off imperceptibly, and again the +tug came to port. + +"Changed yer mind, Cap.? Guess I must be gwine back. Got t' take the +_Drumeltan_ up t' Port-Costa in th' mornin'. What d'ye say t' three +hundred?" + +The Old Man called the Mate, and together they held a serious +consultation, with many looks to windward, aloft, and at the compass. +The stranger was rapidly approaching, and showed herself to be a +yellow-funnelled tow-boat, with a business-like foam about her bows. +Spreckel's man was getting fidgety, as this was one of the opposition +boats, and he expected soon to be quoting a competitive figure. To his +pleased surprise, the Old Man came over to leeward, and, after a last +wrangle about the hawser, took him on at the satisfactory figure of +three hundred dollars. + +We put about, and the Mate had another little deal in burned paint. +Courses were hauled up, and the Active came along our starboard side to +pass the towing wire aboard. The paint hid the patch, and in the +manoeuvre of keeping clear of our whisker-booms, the smell escaped +notice, and the marks of our distress were not noticed by her crew. We +hauled the wire aboard and secured the end, and the _Active's_ crew +heard nothing significant in the cheer with which we set about +clewing-up and furling sail. + +The afternoon was far spent when we reached the pilot schooner. She +was lying at anchor outside the bar, the wind having died away; and as +she lifted to the swell, showed the graceful underbody of an old-time +'crack.' The pilot boarded us as we towed past. Scarce was he over +the rail before he shouted to the Old Man, "What's the matter, Cap'n? +Guess she looks 's if she had a prutty hot cargo aboard." + +"Hot enough, Pilot! Hot enough, b' Goad! We've bin afire forr'ard +these last seven days that we know of, and I'm no' sayin' but that I'm +glad t' see th' beach again." + +"Wall, that's bad, Cap'n. That's bad. Ye won't make much this trip, I +guess, when the 'boys' have felt ye over.' He meant when the 'Frisco +sharps had got their pickings, and the Old Man chuckled audibly as he +replied. + +"Oh, we'll chance that--aye, we'll chance that. It's no' so bad 's if +Cutbush was gettin' his figger." + +"What's he gettin', anyway?" + +"Oh, he's doin' verra well. He's doin' verra well," said the Old Man +evasively. + +We were now approaching the far-famed Golden Gate, the talk of mariners +on seven seas. We boys were sent aloft to unrig the chafing gear, and +took advantage of our position and the Mate's occupation to nurse the +job, that we might enjoy the prospect. The blue headland and the +glistening shingle of Drake's Bay to the norrard and the high cliffs of +Benita ahead: the land stretching away south, and the light of the +westing sun on the distant hills. No wonder that when the Mate called +us down from aloft to hand flags there was much of our work left +unfinished. + +At Benita Point we had a busy time signalling news of our condition to +the ship's agents at 'Frisco. After we passed through the Narrows, we +had a near view of the wooded slopes of Saucilito, with the +white-painted houses nestling comfortably among the trees. Away to the +right the undulating plains of the Presidio reached out to the purple +haze of the distant city. The Pilot, seeing admiration in our eyes, +couldn't help blowing, even to us boys, and exclaimed aloud on the +greatness of the U-nited States in possessing such a sea-board. + +"Saay, boys," he said. "Guess yew ain't got nothin' like this in th' +old country!" + +Young Munro, who was the nearest, didn't let the Pilot away with that, +and he mentioned a 'glint of Loch Fyre, when the sun was in the +west'ard.' "And that's only one place I'm speakin' of." + +The sun was low behind us as we neared the anchorage, and a light haze +softened and made even more beautiful the outlines of the stately City. +As we looked on the shore, no one had mind of the long dreary voyage. +That was past and done. We had thought only for the City of the West +that lay before us, the dream of many long weary nights. + +But, as I gazed and turned away, I was sharply minded of what the sea +held for us. Houston had been carried on deck, "t' see th' sichts," as +he said. His stretcher stood near me, and the sight of his wan face +brought up the memory of bitter times 'off the Horn.' Of the black +night when we lost Duncan! Of the day when Houston lay on the cabin +floor, and the master-surgeon and his rude assistants buckled to 'the +job'! Of the screams of the tortured lad--"Let me alane! Oh, Christ! +Let me al----" till kindly Mother Nature did what we had no means to +do! ... "Man, but it was a tough job, with her rolling and pitching in +the track o' th' gale!" The Old Man was telling the Pilot about it. +"But there he is, noo! As sound as ye like ... a bit weak, mebbe, but +sound! ... We'll send him t' th' hospital, when we get settled +down.... No' that they could dae mair than I've dune." Here a smile +of worthy pride. "But a ship 's no' the place for scienteefic +measures--stretchin', an' rubbin', an' that.... Oh, yes! Straight? +I'll bate ye he walks as straight as a serjunt before we're ready for +sea again!" + +As we drew on to the anchorage, a large raft-like vessel with barges in +tow made out to meet us. The Old Man turned his glasses on her and +gave an exclamation of satisfaction. + +"Meyer's been damn smart in sending out the fire-float," he said to the +Mate, adding, "Get the foreyard cock-billed, Mister; and a burton +rigged to heave out the cargo as soon 's we anchor. There's the +tow-boat whistlin' for ye to shorten in th' hawser. Bear a hand, mind +ye, for we've a tough night's work before us." + + * * * * * + +But all was not pleasant anticipation aboard of the screw tug _Active_, +towing gallantly ahead, for Captain John Cutbush had discovered his +loss, and the world wasn't big enough for his indictment of Fortune. + +He had seen our flags off Benita, but had not troubled to read the +message, as he saw the answering pennant flying from the Lighthouse. +In scanning the anchorage for a convenient berth to swing his tow in, +the fire-float caught his eye. + +"Hello! somethin' afire in th' Bay!" He turned his glasses among the +shipping, in search of a commotion, but all was quiet among the tall +ships. + +"But where's she lyin'-to fer? There ain't nothin' this side ov +Alcatraz, I reckon." + +Then a dread suspicion crossed his mind, that made him jump for the +signal-book. He remembered the flags of our last hoist, and feverishly +turned them up. + +"Arrange--assistance---for--arrival." + +Muttering oaths, he dropped the book and focussed his glasses on the +tow. The track of the fire was patent to the world now, and we were +unbending the sails from the yards above the fore-hatch. + +"She's afire right 'nuff, 'n I never cottoned. Roast me for a ----. +'N that's what the downy old thief was standin' t' th' norrard for, 'n +I never cottoned! 'N that's what he took me on at three hundred for, +'n Meyer's boat almost along-side. Three ---- hundred 'n my ---- +hawser. Waal--I'm--damned! The old limejuice pirate! Guess I should +'a known him for a bloody sharp when I saw Glasgow on her stern." + +He stopped cursing, to blow his whistle--a signal for us to shorten in +the towing hawser. In the ensuing manoeuvres he was able to relieve +his feelings by criticising our seamanship; he swung us round with a +vicious sheer, eased up, and watched our anchor tumbling from the bows. +He gazed despairingly at his Mate, who was steering. + +"Here's a ruddy mess, Gee-orge," he said. "Three thousan' dollars +clean thrown away. What'll the boss say. What'll they say on th' +Front?" + +George cursed volubly, and expended much valuable tobacco juice. + +"Here's a boomer fer th' 'Examiner,' Geeorge; here's a sweet headline +fer th' 'Call'! + +"'Cutbush done!' + +"'Cap'n Jan Cutbush done in th' eye!!' + +"'Cap'n Jan S. Cutbush, th' smartest skipper on th' Front, done in the +bloody eye by a bargoo-eatin' son ef a gun ef a grey-headed +limejuicer!!!'" + + + + +VIII + +WORK! + +Scarcely was our anchor down in 'Frisco Bay than the boarding-house +'crimps' were alongside, beaming with good-fellowship, and tumbling +over one another in their anxiety to shake 'Jack' by the hand, and to +tell him of the glorious openings and opportunities for smart sailormen +ashore. The Mate vainly endeavoured to prevent them boarding the ship, +but with the ordinary harassing duties incident on arrival, and the +extraordinary matter of a serious fire in the hold, he could not do +everything; so the 'crimps' installed themselves in the fo'cas'le, and +the grog (Welcome-home Brand) was flowing far and free. + +The starboard watch were aloft furling the tops'ls, and only the +presence of the Captain and Mates at the foot of the rigging kept them +from joining the hilarious crowd in the fo'cas'le. The Mate's watch +had been employed at the ground tackle, and had dodged in and out of +the fo'cas'le; so that, in a very short time, they were all 'three +sheets in the wind,' and making for trouble. Vootgert, the Belgian, +was the first to fall foul of the Mate, and that sorely-tried Officer +could hardly be blamed for using all four limbs on the offending +'squarehead.' Seeing their shipmate thus handled, the watch would have +raised a general melee, but the boarding-house 'crimps,' having no +liking for police interference, succeeded in calming the valiant ones +by further draughts of their fiery panacea. To us boys (who had heard +great tales of revolvers and other weapons being freely used by ship +captains in preventing their men from being 'got at') these mutinous +ongoings were a matter of great wonderment; but, later, we learned that +freights were low, and we were likely to be many months in 'Frisco; +that crews' wages and victualling, when the ship is earning no money, +reflect on the professional character of an old-time shipmaster, and +that to baulk the 'crimps' on arrival means an expensive delay in +making up a crew when the ship is again ready for sea. + +Wee Laughlin and the nigger were the first to yield to the eloquence of +their visitors. No one was surprised that the Mate let Laughlin clear +without interference. A poor sailor, though a lot had been licked into +him since he left the 'Poort,' he was not worth keeping. His kind +could be picked up on the Water Front any day. He had come on board at +Greenock--a pierhead jump, with his wardrobe on his back and a +'hauf-mutchkin' of very inferior whisky in his pocket. Now, to our +astonishment, he threw a well-filled bag over the side before he slid +down the rope into the 'crimp's' boat. Long intending to desert when +we arrived, he had taken as much of his pay in clothes and slop-chest +gear as the Old Man would allow. It was said, too, that a lot of poor +Duncan's clothes never came to auction, and more than one suspected Wee +Laughlin of a run through Duncan's bag before the Old Niven got forward +and claimed what was left. + +That well-filled bag! + +To the Second Mate, who was eyeing his departure, he flung a +salutation, first seeing that his line of retreat was clear. "Weel, so +long, Mister, ye Hielan' ----, ye can pit ma fower pun ten i' yer e'e +'n ca' yersel' a bloody banker!" + +No one saw the nigger go, but gone he was, bag and baggage; and loud +were the curses of the cook, to whom he owed four pounds of tobacco for +losses at crib. + +While all this was going on, and the 'crimps' were marking down their +prey, the crew of the fire-float had located the fire and cut a hole in +the 'tween-decks above the hottest part. Through this a big ten-inch +hose was passed, and soon the rhythmic _clank-clank_ of their pump +brought 'Frisco Bay to our assistance. + +Darkness fell on a scene of uproar. Everything was at sixes and sevens +forward, and the discipline of five months was set at naught. Drunken +men tumbled over the big hose and slippery decks, and got in the +firemen's way; steam enveloped the decks as in a fog; dim figures of +men struggled and quarrelled; curses and hoarse shouts came from the +fo'cas'le, whence the hands were being driven by the rising smoke and +steam; rushing figures transferred their few belongings to safer +quarters; and through all throbbed the steady _clank-clank_ of the +fire-engine. + +A strange contrast to the quiet and peaceful scene about us--with a low +moon over San Rafael, and the lights of the shipping reflected in the +placid water. A few fishing-boats were drifting out on the tide, with +creak of oar and rowlock; and above all was the glare of the lighted +streets and harbour lights of the great city. + +Not long had we to contrast the scenes, for the Mate, and the Old Man +himself, were at our backs, man-driving the few sober hands, to make up +for their inability to handle the skulkers. They did not spare +themselves in driving, and at salving the gear in the lamp-room the +Captain made a weird picture, black and grimy, with a cloth over his +mouth, passing the lamps out to the boys. + +With such a volume of water pouring below, it was necessary to get a +pump in position to keep our craft afloat. She was now far down by the +head and had a heavy list, and as the ship's pumps would not draw, the +Firemaster arranged to put one of his pumps into the fore-peak. To +make this efficient, we had to raise the sluice in the forrard +bulkhead; and even the Old Man looked anxious when the Carpenter +reported that the sluice was jammed, and that the screw had broken in +his hands. The stream of water into the hold was immediately stopped, +and all available hands (few enough we were) were put to clearing the +fore-peak, that the sluice could be got at. In this compartment all +the ship's spare gear and bos'un's stores were kept, and the lower hold +held ten tons of the ship's coal. The small hatchway made despatch +impossible, and the want of a winch was keenly felt. It was +back-breaking work, hauling up the heavy blocks, the cordage, sails and +tarpaulins, chains, kegs and coils, and dragging them out on deck. A +suffocating atmosphere and foul gases below showed that the seat of the +fire was not far off, and often the workers were dragged up in a +semi-conscious state. The Mate was the first to go down, and he hung +out till nature rebelled, and he was dragged up and put in the open +air. There the aggrieved Belgian saw him, and, maddened by drink, took +advantage of his exhaustion to kick him viciously in the ribs; but +Jones promptly laid the Dutchman out with a hand-spike. + +In a moment the drink, discontent, excitement, and overwork found vent +in furious riot: shipmates of five months' standing, comrades in fair +weather and foul, were at each other's throats, and amid the smoke and +steam no man could name his enemy. Welsh John, in trying to get young +Munro out of harm's way, was knocked down the open hatch, and he lay, +groaning, with a broken arm, amid the steam and stench. Hicks, the +bo'sun, was stabbed in the cheek, and someone knocking the lamps over, +added darkness to the vicious conflict. Blind and blaspheming, animals +all, we fought our way to the doors, and the malcontents, in ill plight +themselves, cared little to follow us. + +Meantime the Firemaster, seeing how matters stood, called his men +together and turned a hose into the fo'cas'le. The thin, vicious +stream proved too much for the mutineers, and we were soon in +possession again. John was taken up from the fore-peak (he was far +through) and carried aft. The mutineers, such as were fit, were put +down below to dig coals till they could dig no more; and again the work +went on--weary, body-racking work. + +With aching eyes and every muscle in revolt, we toiled on in silence, +not even a curse among us. Silence, broken only by the rattle of the +block-sheave, as the baskets of coal were hove up and emptied. There +was now no need for the Old Man to hold himself in readiness, with +something in his pocket that bulged prominently, for there was not an +ounce of fight left in the crowd, and 'Smith and Wessons' are +ill-fitting things to carry about. Two hours we had of this, and give +in was very near when the welcome news came up that they had got at the +sluice, that the water was trickling through. Soon after, the sluice +was prised up, and the pent-up water rushed into the peak. The +Firemaster passed his pipe below, and again the pumps were set agoing. + +We staggered out into the fresh morning air, red-eyed and ragged, and a +madhouse gang we looked in the half-light of an early Californian dawn. +Faces haggard and blackened by the smoke, eyes dazed and bloodshot, and +on nearly everyone evidence of the ten minutes' sanguinary encounter in +bruised eyes and bloody faces. The Mate called a muster to serve out +grog, and of our crew of twenty-seven hands only fifteen answered the +call. The Old Man tried to make a few remarks to the men. He had been +frequently to the bottle through the night, for his speech was thick +and his periods uncertain. + +"No bloody nozzush, b' Goad ... tan' no nozzush, Mis'r----" was about +the burden of his lay. + +With a modest glass of strong rum to raise our spirits momentarily, we +lingered before going below to note the wreck and confusion that our +once trim barque was now in. She was still down by the head, and +listed at an awkward angle. The decks were littered with gear and +stores, muddy and dirty as a city street on a day of rain. Aloft, the +ill-furled tops'ls hung bunched below the yards, with lazy gaskets +streaming idly in mid-air; and the yards, 'lifted' at all angles, gave +a lubberly touch to our distressed appearance. The riding-light, still +burning brightly on the forestay, though the sun was now above the +horizon, showed that we had lost all regard for routine. + +A damp mist, the 'pride o' the morning,' was creeping in from seaward, +and the siren at the Golden Gate emitted a mournful wail at intervals. +Near us, at the anchorage, a big black barque, loaded and in sea-trim, +was getting under weigh, and the haunting strain of 'Shenandoah,' most +beautiful of sea-chanteys, timed by the musical _clank_ of the windlass +pawls, was borne on the wind to us. + +"An outward-bounder, and a blue-nose at that," said Martin. + +We wondered if Wee Laughlin was already in her fo'cas'le, with a +skinful of drugged liquor to reckon with. The 'crimps' lose no time if +they can get their man under, and Wee Laughlin, by his own glory of it, +was a famous swallower. + +In the half-deck, some of the boys were already turned in, and lying in +uneasy attitudes, with only their boots and jackets off. Jones, who +had been severely handled in the scrimmage, was moaning fitfully in his +sleep, his head swathed in bloody bandages, and the pallor showing in +his face through the grime and coal-dust. Hansen was the last man in. +He threw himself wearily down on the sea-chests, now all of a heap to +leeward, snatched a pillow from under Munro's head, and composed +himself to rest. + +"Mate says I'm to keep watch, 'n call him at eight bells; but, judgin' +by th' way he put the grog down, I'm damn sure he'll stir tack nor +sheet till midday.... Firemaster says she's under hand, 'n he'll have +the fire out in two hours, 'n she can bally well look out for +herself.... T' hell with an anchor watch; I can't keep my eyes open, +an' 'll work ... work ... no m----" + + + + +IX + +IN 'FRISCO TOWN + +We moored at Mission Wharf to discharge what cargo the fire had spared, +and there we made a lubberly picture, outcast among so many trim ships. +The firemen had done their duty and had left us to do ours, and we had +to work our hardest to put the ship in order again. A firm of +shipwrights were employed to repair the damage--the twisted stanchions, +buckled beams, burnt decks, worthless pumps, and hold fittings. Old +Jock was not a Scotchman for nothing, and to make their contract +profitable, the 'wrights did nothing that they could wriggle out of. +So we had extra work to do--their work--and from daylight to dark were +kept hard at it, man-driven as only our hardcase Mate could drive. It +was no wonder that we were in a state of discontent. Here we were, +after a long, hard voyage, working our 'soul-case' to shreds! And +there--just across the wharf--were the lights of Market Street, that +seemed to beckon us to come ashore! There were angry mutterings, and +only a wholesome fear of the Mate's big hands kept us at the task. + +With the men forward it was even worse. The word had gone out that no +money would be advanced until the cargo was discharged and the ship put +to rights. No money--not even the price of a 'schooner'! And the +ghost of nigh six months, salt beef waiting to be 'laid!' + +Their state of mind was soon observed by the boarding-masters. Whalers +were in the Bay, fitted out and ready for sea, and only a lack of +sailormen kept them within the Golden Gate. To get these men--the +blood-money for their shipment, rather--was the business of the +'crimps,' who showed a wealth of imagination in describing the various +topping shore jobs that they held at their disposal. Now it was a +'mine manager' they were looking for in our forecastle; to-morrow it +would be a fruit salesman they wanted! They secured smiling Dutch John +as a decoy, and set him up behind the bar of a Water Front saloon. +There, when work was over for the day, his former shipmates +foregathered, and John (fairly sober, considering) put up free drinks +and expanded on the goodness of a long-shore life. + +"Vat jou boysh stop _mit der_ ship on? Jou tinks dere vas no yobs on +shore? De boardin'-master damn lie, eh? ... Ah vas get me four +dollars a day; _und der_ boss, ven 'e see me de glasses break, say me +nodings! Ah goes from _der haus, und_ comes to _der haus in--und_ 'e +say nod like _der_ Mate, 'Vat jou do dere, _verdamt shwine_? Was _fuer_ +jou no go on mit jour vark?' ... _'ttverdam_! It vas _der_ life, +_mein_ boysh! It vas _der_ life!" + +Against such a pronouncement from their whilom shipmate, and with the +plain evidence of his prosperity before their eyes, it was useless to +argue. Here was John able to stand free drinks all round, and the +saloon boss 'standin' by' and smiling pleasantly. Didn't John say, +"Here, boss, jou gif me a light for _mein_ cigar!" and the owner of the +place handed out his silver box instanter? John! A 'Dutchman,' +too,--not even the best sailorman of the 'crowd'! ... ("Here, boss, +what was that job ye was talkin' about? I _guess_ there ain't nuthin' +I can't do w'en I sets my 'ead to it!") Soon the 'crimps,' ever ready +at hand, were off to the ship, hot-foot, for bags and baggage! + +Those who still held by the ship were visited at all hours, and the +comings and goings of the tempters were not even checked by the Mate. +The dinner hour was the most opportune time for them, for then they had +the miserable meal to point to in scorn. + +"Call yewrselves min," they said, "a sittin' hyar at yer lobscouse an' +dawg biscuits, an' forty dallars a month jest waitin' t' be picked up? +... Forty dallars ... an' no more graft 'n a boy kin dew! Darn it, I +wouldn't give that mess to me dawg! ... A fine lot yees are, fer sure! +Ain't got no heart t' strike aout f'r decent grub 'n a soft job.... +Forty dallars, I guess! ... Is thar a 'man' among ye? ... Chip in +yewr dunnage an' step ashore, me bucks! A soft job in a free country, +an' no damn lime juice Mate t' sweat ye araound!" + +The 'spell worked'! Within a fortnight of our arrival most of the men +who had signed with us had, '_Deserted. Left no effects_,' entered +against their names in our official Log. Soon the whalers were at sea, +standing to the north, and Dutch John shorn of his proud position, was +shipped as cook on a hard-case New Yorker! + +The bos'un and Old Martin were still with us, and we had Welsh John and +Houston safe in the hospital--about the only place in 'Frisco where no +healthy 'crimp' could gain admission. For want of better game, +perhaps, the boarding-masters paid some attention to the half-deck, but +we had, in the Chaplain of the British Seamen's Institute, a muscular +mentor to guide us aright. From the first he had won our hearts by his +ability to put Browne (our fancy man) under the ropes in three rounds. +It was said that, in the absence of a better argument, he was able and +willing to turn his sleeves up to the stiffest 'crimp' on the Front. +Be that as it may, there was no doubt about his influence with +brassbounders in the port. Desertions among us--that had formerly been +frequent--were rare enough when James Fell came, swinging his stick, to +see what was doing on the Front! + +With the crew gone, we found matters improved with us. The Mate, +having no 'crowd' to rush around, was inclined to take things easy, +and, when sober, was quite decent. Although but a few weeks in the +country, we were now imbued with the spirit of freedom; learned to +'guess' and 'reckon'; called Tuesday 'Toosday'; and said "No, sir-rr!" +when emphatic denial was called for. Eccles even tried the democratic +experiment of omitting his "sir" when answering the Mate. Disastrous +result! + +Seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed like +longshore labourers on the ship's hull. The rust and barnacles of our +outward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more than +enough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patent +compositions. One day Burke discovered his elder brother's name +painted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride of +the painter's position, 'Captain of a big tramp steamer,' we were +consoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill as +others had done before us. When the painting was finished we had the +satisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of the +many tall ships that lined the wharves. + +At night, when work was over, we had the freedom of the City. It was +good to be on the beach again. Money was scarce with us, and in a +place where five cents is the smallest currency, we found our little +stock go fast, if not far. If luxuries were beyond our reach, at least +the lighted streets were ours, and it was with a delightful sense of +freedom from ship discipline that we sauntered from 'sailor-town' to +'China-town,' or through the giant thoroughfares that span the heart of +the City itself. Everything was new, and fine, and strange. The +simple street happenings, the busy life and movements, the glare and +gaudery of the lights, were as curious to us as if we had never landed +before. + +'Sailor-town'--the Water Front, was first beyond the gangway. Here +were the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' and +shoddy shops. The boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess of +an old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned their +doorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. On occasions they +would invite us in--"Come right in, boyees, an' drink the health o' th' +haouse," was the word of it--but we had heard of the _Shanghai +Passage_, and were chary of their advances. Often our evident distrust +was received with boisterous laughter. "Saay," they would shout. +"_Yew_ needn't shy, me sucking bloody Nelsons! It's little use _yew_ +'ud be aboard a packet!" ... "Light--the--binnacle, bo--oy!" was +another salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a lady +at an upper window, and there would be a sailorman there--out of sight, +as prompters properly are. + +At the clothing shop doors, the Jews were ever on the alert for custom. +A cheap way of entertainment was to linger for a moment at their +windows, pointing and admiring. Isaac would be at us in a moment, +feeling the texture of our jackets with his bony fingers and calling on +the whole street to witness that it was "a biece 'f damn good shduff!" +Then it would be, "Gome into de shop, Misdur! I guess I god de tingsh +you vannt!" + +After we had spent a time examining and pricing his scent-bottles and +spring garters, and hand-painted braces and flowered velvet slippers +and 'Green River' sheath-knives, we thought it but right to tell him +that Levy Eckstein of Montgomery Street was our man; that our Captain +would pay no bills for us but his! + +With Levy our business was purely financial; cent, per cent, +transactions in hard cash. He had contracted with the Old Man to +supply us with clothing, but, though our bills specified an outfit of +substantial dry goods, we were always able to carry away the parcels in +our smallest waistcoat pocket. "One dollar for two," was Levy's motto. +If his terms were hard, his money was good, and, excepting for the Old +Man's grudging advances, we had no other way of 'raising the wind.' + +In 'China-town' we found much to astonish us. We could readily fancy +ourselves in far Cathay. There was nothing in the narrow streets and +fancily carved house fronts to suggest an important City in the States. +Quaint shop signs and curious swinging lanterns; weird music and noises +in the 'theatres'; uncanny smells from the eating-houses; the cat-like +sound of China talk--all jumbled together in a corner of the most +western city of the West! + +The artisans in their little shops, working away far into the night, +interested us the most, and some of our little money went to purchase +small wares for the home folks. It was here that Munro bought that +long 'back-scratcher'; the one he took home to his father! + +Sometimes, when we could induce our Burke to make up to one of his +compatriots (the blue-coated, six-foot Fenians who keep 'Frisco under +martial law), we saw something of the real, the underground China-town. +It was supposed to be a hazardous excursion, but, beyond treading the +dark, forbidding alleys, haunts of 'Li-Johns' and 'Highbinders,' we had +no sight of the sensational scenes that others told us of. We saw +opium dens, and were surprised at the appearance of the smokers. +Instead of the wasted and debauched beings, of whom we had read, we +found stout Johns and lean Johns, lively Johns and somnolent Johns, +busy and idle--but all looking as if they regarded life as a huge joke. + +They laughed amiably at our open mouths, and made remarks to us. +These, of course, we were unable to understand, but at least we could +grin, and that seemed to be the answer expected. When our guide took +us to free air again, and we found ourselves far from where we had +entered, we could readily 'take it from Michael' that the underground +passages offered harbour to all the queer fellows of the City. With +the night drawing on, and a reminder in our limbs that we had done a +hard day's work, we would go to Clark's, in Kearney, a coffee-house +famed among brassbounders. There we would refresh and exchange ship +news with 'men' from other ships. Clark himself--a kindly person with +a hint of the Doric amidst his 'Amurricanisms'--was always open to +reason in the middle of the week, and we never heard that he had lost +much by his 'accommodations.' + +When we returned to the streets, the exodus from the theatres would be +streaming towards cars and ferry. It was time we were on board again. +Often there would be a crowd of us bound for the wharves. It was a +custom to tramp through 'sailor-town' together. On the way we would +cheer the 'crimps' up by a stave or two of 'Mariners of England.' + + + + +X + +THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S' + +In the half-deck differences, sometimes leading to fisticuffs, were of +daily occurrence; but, considering that we were boys, drawn from all +parts, each with his town or county's claim to urge, we dwelt very +happily together. Though our barque was Scotch, we were only two +strong, and at times it was very difficult to keep our end up, and +impress our Southron shipmates with a proper sense of our national +importance. The voice of reason was not always pacific, and on these +occasions we could but do our best. Our Jones (of Yorkshire) was of a +quarrelsome nature; most of our bickers were of his seeking, and to him +our strained relations with the 'Torreador's' was mainly due. + +The _Torreador_ had berthed next to us at Mission Wharf, and by the +unwritten laws of the sea and the customs of the port of San Francisco, +her crew should have fraternised with us; from the mates (who could +exchange views on the sizes of rope and the chances of promotion) down +to the younger apprentices (who should have visited one another to +'swap' ship's biscuit). With other ships matters might have been +arranged, but the _Torreador_ was a crack ship, and flew the blue +ensign, even on week-days; her captain was an F.R.A.S., and her boys +(whose parents paid heavy premiums for the glitter) wore brass buttons +to everyday work, and were rated as midshipmen, no less! The day after +her arrival some of them were leaning over the rail looking at our +barque, and acquaintance might have been made then and there, but Jones +(who fancied himself a wit) spoiled the chances of an understanding by +asking them if the stewardess had aired their socks properly that +morning. Such a question aroused great indignation, and for over a +fortnight we were 'low bounders,' and they 'kid-glove sailors.' + +Matters went ill between us, and our ships were too close together to +ignore one another altogether. The 'Torreador's' contented themselves +with looking smarter and more aggressively clean than ever, and with +casting supercilious glances all over us when they saw us chipping and +scraping the rust off our vessel's topside--(they never got such jobs +to do, as their Old Man was too busy cramming them up with "Sumners" +and "Deviation Curves"). We replied by making stage asides to one +another on the methods of 'coddling sickly sailors,' and Jones even +went the length of arraying himself in a huge paper collar when he was +put over-side to paint ship. A brilliant idea, he thought it, until +the Mate noticed him, and made his ears tingle till sundown. + +The 'Torreador's' kept a gangway watch, and one of his duties seemed to +be to cross the deck at intervals and inspect our barque, crew, and +equipment in a lofty manner. He would even (if his Mate--the Chief +Officer, they called him--wasn't looking) put his hands in his beckets +and his tongue in his cheek. At first we greeted his appearance with +exaggerated respect; we would stand to attention and salute him in +style; but latterly, his frequent appearances (particularly as he +always seemed to be there when our Mate was recounting our misdeeds, +and explaining what lazy, loafing, ignorant, and 'sodgering' creatures +he had to handle) got on our nerves. + +Matters went on in this way for over a week, and everybody was getting +tired of it; not only on our ship, for one day we caught a 'Torreador' +openly admiring our collection of sharks' tails which we had nailed to +the jib-boom. When he found himself observed he blushed and went about +some business, before we had a chance to ask him aboard to see the +sharks' backbones--fashioned into fearsome walking-sticks. Up town we +met them occasionally, but no one seemed inclined to talk, and a +'barley' was as far away as ever. If we went to the Institute they +were to be seen lolling all over the sofas in the billiard-room, +smoking cigarettes, when, as everyone knows, a briar pipe is the only +thing that goes decently with a brass-bound cap, tilted at the right +angle. They did not seem to make many friends, and their talk among +themselves was of matters that most apprentices ignore. One night +Jones heard them rotting about 'Great Circle sailing,' and 'ice to the +south'ard of the Horn,' and subjects like that, when, properly, they +ought to be criticising their Old Man, and saying what an utter duffer +of a Second Mate they had. Jones was wonderfully indignant at such +talk, and couldn't sleep at night for thinking of all the fine +sarcastic remarks he might have made, if he had thought of them at the +time. + +When our barque, by discharge of cargo, was risen in the water, we were +put to send the royal-yards down on deck, and took it as a great relief +from our unsailorly harbour jobs. The 'Torreador's,' with envious +eyes, watched us reeving off the yard ropes. They had a Naval Reserve +crew aboard to do these things, and their seamanship was mostly with a +model mast in the half-deck. They followed all the operations with +interest, and when Hansen and Eccles got the main royal yard on deck, +in record time, they looked sorry that they weren't at the doing. + +"Sumners" and "Deviation Curves" are all very well in their way, but a +seamanlike job aloft, on a bright morning, is something stirring to +begin the day with. A clear head to find one's way, and a sharp hand +to unbend the gear and get the yard canted for lowering; then, with a +glance at the fore (where fumblers are in difficulties with their +lifts), the prideful hail to the deck, "All clear, aloft! Lower away!" + +No wonder the 'Torreador's' were not satisfied with their model mast! + +Some days later we got another chance to show them how things were done +aloft, and even if we were not so smart at it as we might have been, +still it was a fairly creditable operation for some boys and a +sailorman. Our main topgal'nmast was found to be 'sprung' at the heel, +and one fine morning we turned-to to send the yard and mast down. This +was rather a big job for us who had never handled but royal-yards +before; but under the able instructions of the Mate and Bo'sun, we did +our work without any serious digression from the standards of +seamanship. The Mate wondered what was making us so uncommon smart and +attentive, but when he caught sight of the 'Torreador's' watching our +operations with eager eyes, he understood, and even spurred us on by +shouting, "_Mister!_" (the boys of the _Torreador_ were thus addressed +by their Officers) "_Mister_ Hansen, please lay out 'n the topsl-yard, +'n unhook that bloody brace!" + +At dusk the 'Torreador's' had stiff necks with looking aloft so much, +and when we knocked off, with the yard and mast on deck, and the gear +stopped-up, they went below and hid their elaborate model mast under a +bunk in the half-deck. + +Soon after this a better feeling began. Eccles met one of the +'Torreador's' up-town, and an acquaintance was made. They spent the +evening together, and he learned that the other chap came from near his +place. [It was really about fifty miles from there, but what's a fifty +miles when one is fourteen thousand miles from home?] The next evening +two of them came across. "To see the ship," they said. They brought +briar pipes with them, which was rather more than we could reasonably +have expected. Thereafter nightly visits were the rule, and we became +as thick as thieves. We took them to our bosom, and told them of many +fresh ways to rob the store-room, though they had no need to go +plundering, theirs being a well-found ship. We even went the length of +elaborating a concerted and, as we afterwards found, unworkable scheme +to get even with a certain policeman who had caught our Munro a clip on +the arm with his club when that youngster was singing "Rule Britannia" +along the Water Front at half-past midnight. In the evenings our +respective commanders could be seen leaning across their poop rails, +engaged in genial conversation, addressing one another as "Captain" in +the middle of each sentence with true nautical punctiliousness. + +Once the 'Torreador's' Old Man seemed to be propounding his views on +the training of apprentices with great earnestness. What he said we +could not hear, but our Old Man replied that he had work enough "---- +to get the young 'sodgers' to learn to splice a rope, cross a +royal-yard, and steer the ship decently, let alone the trouble of +keeping them out of the store-room," and that he'd "---- nae doot but +they'd learn navigation ---- in guid time!" + +The elder boys went picnicing on the Sundays to Cliff House or +Saucilito; the second voyagers played team billiards together at the +Institute, and proposed one another to sing at the impromptu concerts; +while the young ones--those who had only been a dog-watch at sea--made +themselves sick smoking black tobacco and talking 'ship-talk' in the +half-deck. + +Thus we fraternised in earnest, and when the _Torreador_ left for Port +Costa to load for home we bent our best ensign (though it was on a +week-day), and cheered her out of the berth. + +Next week a Norwegian barque took up her vacant place. She had come +out from Swansea in ninety-eight days, and was an object of interest +for a while. Soon, though, we grew tired of the daily hammering of +'stock-fish' before breakfast, and the sight of her Mate starting the +windmill pump when the afternoon breeze came away. We longed for the +time when we, too, would tow up to Port Costa, for we had a little +matter of a race for ship's gigs to settle with the 'Torreador's' and +were only waiting for our Captains to take it up and put silk hats on +the issue. + + + + +XI + +THE 'CONVALESCENT' + +Welsh John was discharged from hospital at ten on a Sunday morning; +before dark he was locked up, charged with riotous behaviour and the +assaulting of one Hans Maartens, a Water Front saloon keeper. A matter +of strong drink, a weak head, and a maudlin argument, we thought; but +Hansen saw the hand of the 'crimps' in the affair, and when we heard +that sailormen were scarce (no ships having arrived within a +fortnight), we felt sure that they were counting on John's blood-money +from an outward-bound New Yorker. + +"Ye see, John hadn't money enough t' get drunk on," he said. "We saw +him in hospital last Sunday, an' Munro gave him a 'half' to pay his +cars down t' th' ship when he came out. Half-dollars don't go far in +'sailor-town.' I guess these sharks have bin primin' him up t' get 'm +shipped down th' Bay. The _J. B. Grace_ has been lyin' at anchor off +The Presidio, with her 'Blue Peter' up this last week or more, an' +nobody 's allowed aboard 'r ashore but Daly an' his gang. Maartens is +in with 'em, an' the whole thing 's a plant to shanghai John. Drunk or +no' drunk, John 's seen th' game, an' plugged th' Dutchman for a start." + +As it was on Munro's account that he had come by the injuries that put +him in hospital, we felt more than a passing interest in John's case, +and decided to get him clear of the 'crimps' if we could. We knew he +would be fined, for saloon-keepers and boarding-masters are persons of +weight and influence in 'Frisco town, and, although John had nearly +eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort +of confession of Jack's importance, for the Captain to disburse on his +account. It being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few +dollars among us, so we applied to James Peden, a man of substance on +the Front, for assistance and advice. + +James was from Dundee. After a varied career as seaman, whaleman, +boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he +had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of +stevedores. He was an office-bearer of the local Scottish Society, +talked braid Scots on occasions (though his command of Yankee slang +when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a +tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans. + +To James we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his +'boy-ees made things hum.' It was rather a delicate matter to do this +properly, as we had to leave it to inference that James's knowledge of +these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that +of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business +were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of +shady doings. It was nicely done, though, and James, recalling a +parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic. + +"Weel, lauds, Ah guess Joan Welsh 'r Welsh Joan 'll be ootward bound +afore the morn's nicht. They'll pit 'm up afore Judge Kelly, a bluidy +Fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a +British sailorman alane. Pluggin' a Dutchman 's naethin'; it's th' +'Rid Rag' that Kelly's doon oan. Ah ken the swine; he touched me +twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug--an ill-faured +Dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. Ah guess there's nae chance for a +lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. Noo, +withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer Captain 's no' +gaun tae pey 't. Wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's ship +bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n +Ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this Joan Welsh. +This is whaur Daly 'll come in. He'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer +man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a +fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th' chance o' a spree. Daly 'll +pey th' fine, gae yer man a nicht's rope fur a maddenin' drunk, an' +ship 'm on th' New-Yorker i' th' mornin'. There's nae help for't; +that's th' wey they dae things oot here; unless maybe ye'd pey th' fine +yersels?" + +This was our opportunity, and Munro asked for a loan till next week. +He explained the state of our purses and the uselessness of applying to +the Captain so early in the week; James was dubious. Munro urged the +case in homely Doric; James, though pleased to hear the old tongue, was +still hesitating when Munro skilfully put a word of the Gaelic here and +there. A master move! James was highly flattered at our thinking he +had the Gaelic (though never a word he knew), and when Munro brought a +torrent of liquid vowels into the appeal, James was undone. The blood +of the Standard Bearer of the Honourable Order of the Scottish Clans +coursed proudly through his veins, and, readjusting his tartan necktie, +he parted with fifteen dollars on account. + +Now a difficulty arose. It being a working day, none of us would get +away to attend the Court. We thought of Old Martin, the night +watchman. As he slept soundly during three-fifths of his night watch, +it was no hardship for the old 'shellback' to turn out, but he wasn't +in the best of tempers when we wakened him and asked his assistance. + +"Yew boys thinks nuthin' ov roustin' a man out, as 'as bin on watch awl +night." (Martin was stretched out like a jib downhaul, sound asleep on +the galley floor, when we had come aboard on Sunday night). "Thinks +nuthin' at awl ov callin' a man w'en ye ain't got no damn business +to.... W'en Ah was a boy, it was ropesendin' fer scratchin' a match in +fo'cas'le, 'n hell's-hidin' fer speakin' in a Dago's whisper!"--Martin +sullenly stretched out for his pipe, ever his first move on +waking--"Nowadays boys is men an' men 's old.---- W'y"--Martin waved +his little black pipe accusingly--"taint only t' other day w'en that +there Jones lays out 'n th' tawps'l yardarm afore me 'n mittens th' +bloody earin' 's if awl th' sailormen wos dead!" His indignation was +great, his growls long and deep, but at last he consented to do our +errand--"tho' ain't got no use for that damned Welshman meself!" + +Arrayed in his pilot cloth suit, with a sailorlike felt hat perched +rakish on his hard old head, old Martin set out with our fifteen +dollars in his pocket, and his instructions, to pay John's fine and +steer clear of the 'crimps.' We had misgivings as to the staunchness +of our messenger, but we had no other, and it was with some slight +relief that we watched him pass the nearest saloon with only a wave of +his arm to the bar-keeper and tramp sturdily up the street towards the +City. + +At dinner-time neither John nor Old Martin had rejoined the ship. We +thought, with misgiving, that a man with fifteen dollars in his becket +would be little likely to remember the miserly meal provided by the +ship, and even Browne (the Mark Tapley of our half-deck) said he +shouldn't be surprised if the 'crimps' had got both John and Old Martin +(to say nothing of our fifteen dollars). As the day wore on we grew +anxious, but at last we got news of the absentees when Peden passed, on +his way out to the Bay. The sentimental Scotsman of the morning had +thought a lot after his liberal response to Munro's appeal, and had +called round at the Police Court to see that the affair was genuine. +He was now in his right senses; a man of rock, not to be moved even by +a mention of Burns's 'Hielan' Mary,' his tartan tie had slipped nearly +out of sight beneath the collar of his coat, and the hard, metallic +twang of his voice would have exalted a right 'down-easter.' + +"Yewr man was 'up' w'en Ah got raound," he said, "up before Kelly, 's +Ah reckoned. Ah didn't hear the chyarge, but thyar was th' Dutchman +with 's head awl bandaged up--faked up, Ah guess. Th' Jedge ses t' th' +prisoner, 'Did yew strike this man?' Yewr man answers, 'Inteed to +goodness, yer 'anner, he looks 's if somebody 'd struck 'm!' Wi' that +a laugh wint raound, an' yewr man tells 's story." (James's Doric was +returning to him, and the twang of his "u's" became less pronounced.) +"He had bin in hospital, he said, wasn't very strong--here th' Dutchman +looks up, wonderin' like--had ta'en a drap o' drink wi' a man he met in +'sailor-town.' There wis talk aboot a joab ashore, an' they were in +Mertin's tae see aboot it, an' yer man sees this Mertin pit somethin' +i' th' drink. He didna like the looks o't, he said, so he ups an' gies +Mertin yin on th' heid wi' a 'schooner' gless. That wis a' he kent +aboot it, an' th' Dutchman begood his yarn. Oot o' his +kind-hertedness, he'd gie'n th' pris'ner a gless or twa, fower at th' +maist, when th' thankless villain ups an' ca's 'm names an' belts 'm on +th' heid wi' a gless. 'Pit drugs i' th' drink?' Naethin' o' th' kind! +He wis jist takin' a fly oot o't wi' the haunle o' a spune. + +"A bad business, says Kelly, a bad business! There's faur too miny av +thim British sailormin makin' trouble on th' Front. It's tin dallars, +says he, tin dallars 'r fourteen days! + +"Ah saw Daly git up frae th' sate an' he his a long confab wi' yer man, +but jist then yer auld watchman tramps in, an' efter speirin' aboot he +ups an' peys th' fine, an' they let yer man oot. Ah seen th' twa o' +them gang aff wi' Daly, an' Ah couldna verra weel ha'e onythin' tae dae +wi' them when he wis bye." + +This was James's news; he was not surprised to learn that they had not +returned to the ship, and, as he passed on, on his way to the jetty +steps, muttered, "Weel, it's a gey peety they had that five dollars +ower much, for Ah doot they'll baith be under th' 'Blue Peter' before +th' morn's mornin'." + +When we knocked off for the day we were soon ashore looking for the +wanderers, and early found plain evidence that they had been +celebrating John's 'convalescence' and release. An Italian +orange-seller whom we met had distinct memory of two seafaring +gentlemen purchasing oranges and playing 'bowls' with them in the +gutter of a busy street; a Jewish outfitter and his assistants were +working well into the night, rearranging oilskins and sea-boots on the +ceiling of a disordered shop, and a Scandinavian dame, a vendor of +peanuts, had a tale of strange bargainings to tell. + +Unable to find them, we returned to the ship. One of us had to keep +Martin's watch, and the Mate was already on the track of the affair +with threatenings of punishment for the absent watchman. + +About ten we heard a commotion on the dock side, and looked over to see +the wanderers, accompanied by all the 'larrikins' of 'sailor-town,' +making for the ship. Two policemen in the near background were there +to see that no deliberate breach-of-the-peace took place. + +Martin, hard-headed Old Martin, who stood drink better than the +Welshman, was singing '_Bound away to the West'ard in th' Dreadnought +we go_' in the pipingest of trebles, and Welsh John, hardly able to +stand, was defying the Dutch, backed by numberless Judge Kellys, and +inviting them to step up, take off their jackets and come on. + + + + +XII + +ON THE SACRAMENTO + +After our cargo was discharged we left Mission Wharf for an anchorage +in the Bay, and there--swinging flood and ebb--we lay in idleness. +There were many ships in the anchorage, and many more laid up at +Martinez and Saucilito, for the year's crop was not yet to hand, and +Masters were hanging back for a rise in freights. There we lay, idle +ships, while the summer sun ripened the crops and reared the golden +grain for the harvest--the harvest that we waited to carry round the +roaring Horn to Europe. Daily we rowed the Old Man ashore, and when he +returned from the Agent's office, we could tell by the way he took a +request (say, for a small advance "to buy a knife") that our ship was +still unchartered, and likely to be so for some time. + +To a convenient wharf the gigs of each ship came every morning, and +from then to untold hours of the night the jetty steps were well worn +by comings and goings. Some of the Captains (the man-driving ones, who +owed no man a moment) used to send their boats back to the ship as soon +as they landed, but a number kept theirs at the wharf in case messages +had to be sent off. We usually hung around at the jetty, where there +were fine wooden piles that we could carve our barque's name on when +our knives were sharp enough. With the boats' crews from other ships +we could exchange news and opinions, and quarrel over points in +seamanship. + +Those amongst us who had often voyaged to 'Frisco, and others who had +been long in the port, were looked upon as 'oracles,' and treated with +considerable respect. The _Manydown_ had been sixteen months in +'Frisco, and her boys could easily have passed muster as Americans. +They chewed sweet tobacco ("malassus kyake," they called it), and swore +Spanish oaths with freedom and abandon. Their gig was by far the +finest and smartest at the jetty, and woe betide the unwitting 'bow' +who touched her glossy varnished side with his boat-hook. For him a +wet swab was kept in readiness, and their stroke, a burly ruffian, was +always willing to attend to the little affair if it went any farther. +Our Captains came down in batches, as a rule, and there would be great +clatter of oars and shipping of rowlocks as their boats hauled +alongside to take them off. Rivalry was keen, and many were the +gallant races out to the anchorage, with perhaps a little sum at stake +just for the honour of the ship. + +We had about a month of this, and it was daily becoming more difficult +to find a decently clear space on the piles on which to carve +'_Florence_, of Glasgow.' One day the Old Man returned at an unusual +hour, and it was early evident that something was afoot; he was too +preoccupied to curse Hansen properly for being away from the boat on +business of his own, and, instead of criticising our stroke and telling +us what rotten rowers we were, as was his wont, he busied himself with +letters and papers. We put off to the ship in haste, and soon the news +went round that we were going up-river to Port Costa, to load for home. +Old Joe Niven was the medium through whom all news filtered from the +cabin, and from him we had the particulars even down to the amount of +the freight. We felt galled that a German barque, which had gone up a +week before, was getting two and twopence-ha'penny more; but we took +consolation in the thought of what a fine crow we would have over the +'Torreador's,' who were only loading at forty-five and sixpence, direct +to Hull. + +On board we only mustered hands enough to do the ordinary harbour work, +and raising the heavy anchors was a task beyond us; so at daybreak next +morning we rowed round the ships to collect a crew. The other Captains +had promised our Old Man a hand, here and there, and when we pulled +back we had men enough, lusty and willing, to kedge her up a hill. + +There was mist on the water when we started to 'clear hawse'--the +thick, clammy mist that comes before a warm day. About us bells +clattered on the ships at anchor, and steamers went slowly by with a +hiss of waste steam that told of a ready hand on the levers. Overhead, +the sky was bright with the promise of a glorious day, but with no mind +to lift the pall from the water, it looked ill for a ready passage. We +had four turns of a foul hawse to clear (the track of a week's calms), +and our windlass was of a very ancient type, but our scratch crew +worked well and handy, and we were ready for the road when the screw +tug _Escort_ laid alongside and lashed herself up to our quarter. They +tow that way on the Pacific Coast--the wily ones know the advantage of +having a ship's length in front of them to brush away the 'snags.' + +A light breeze took the mist ''way down under,' and we broke the +weather anchor out with the rousing chorus of an old sea song: + + Old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, + (_To my way-ay, Storm-alo-ong;_) + O-old Storm-along, he's dead a-an' gone, + (_Aye! Aye! Aye! Mister Storm-along._) + + +Some friends of the Captain had boarded us from the tug, eager for the +novelty of a trip up-river in a real Cape Horner. One elderly lady was +so charmed by our 'chantey,' that she wanted the Captain to make us +sing it over again. She wondered when he told her that that was one +thing he could not do. With the rare and privileged sight of frocks on +the poop, there was a lot of talk about who should go to the wheel. +Jones worked himself into it, and laid aft in a clean rig when the Old +Man called for a hand to the wheel. There he made the most of it, and +hung gracefully over the spokes with his wrists turned out to show the +tattoo marks. + +The skipper of the tug came aboard our ship to pilot up the river, and +he directed the movements of his own vessel from our poop deck. We +passed under the guns of rocky Alcatraz, and stood over to the wooded +slopes and vineyards of Saucilito, where many 'laid-up' ships were +lying at the buoys, with upper yards down and huge ballast booms lashed +alongside. Here we turned sharply to the norrard and bore up the broad +bosom of Sacramento--the river that sailormen make songs about, the +river that flows over a golden bed. Dull, muddy water flowing swiftly +seawards; straight rip in the channel, and a race where the high banks +are; a race that the Greek fishermen show holy pictures to, when the +springs are flowing! + +With us, the tide was light enough, and our Pilot twisted her about +with the skill and nonchalance of a master hand. One of our +passengers, a young woman who had enthused over everything, from the +shark's tail on the spanker-boom end ("Waal--I never!") to the curl of +the bo'sun's whiskers ("Jest real sweet!"), seemed greatly interested +at the frequent orders to the steersman. + +"Sa-ay, Pilot!" she said, "Ah guess yew must know every rock 'bout +hyar?" + +"Wa-al, no, Miss, ah kyan't say 's Ah dew," answered Palinurus; "but Ah +reckon tew know whar th' deep wa-r-r is!" + +As we approached the shallows at the head of San Pablo Bay, the Old Man +expressed an opinion as to the lack of water, and the Pilot again +provided a jest for the moment. + +"Oh, that's awl right, Cap.; she's only drawin' twelve feet, 'n Ah kin +tak' 'r over a damp meadow 'n this trim!" + +We met a big stern-wheel ferry bound down from Benicia with a load of +freight wagons. She looked like an important junction adrift. +Afterwards we saw a full-rigged ship towing down, and when near we made +her out to be the _Torreador_, ready for sea. This was a great +disappointment to us, for we had looked forward to being with her at +Port Costa. Now, our long-dreamt-of boat-race was off (with our boat's +crew in first-class trim, too!), and amid the cheering as we met and +passed on, we heard a shrill and unmistakable '_cock-a-doodle-doo!_' +which we remembered with indignation for many a day. Tall and stately +she looked, with her flags a-peak and everything in trim: yards all +aloft, and squared to an inch and her sails rolled up without crease +like the dummy covers on the booms of a King's yacht. A gallant ship, +and a credit to the flag she flew. + +We passed many floating tree trunks and branches in the river. The +snows had come away from the Sierras, and there was spate on +Sacramento. We rode over one of the 'snags' with a shudder, and all +our jack-easy Pilot said was, "Guess that'll take some 'f th' barnacles +off 'r battum, bettr'r a week's sojerin' with the patent scrubber!" +All the same he took very good care that his own craft rode free of +obstruction. + +Rounding a bend, we came in sight of our rendezvous, but Port Costa +showed little promise from the water-side, though the sight of our old +friends, the _Crocodile_, the _Peleus_, and the _Drumeltan_, moored at +the wharf cheered us. Two or three large mills, with a cluster of +white houses about, composed the township; a large raft-like ferry +which carried the 'Frisco mail trains bodily across the river +contributed to its importance, but there was nothing else about the +place to excite the remark of even an idle 'prentice boy. + +A little way up-stream was a town, indeed; a town of happy memories. +Benicia, with its vineyards and fruit gardens, and the low, old houses, +alone perhaps in all California to tell of Spain's dominion. A town of +hearty, hospitable folk, unaffected by the hustle of larger cities; a +people of peace and patience, the patience of tillers of the vine. + +Off Martinez, where the river is wide, we canted ship, and worked back +to Port Costa against the tide. We made fast at the ballast wharf, and +our borrowed crew, having completed their job, laid aft to receive the +Captain's blessing, and a silver dollar to put in their pockets. Then +they boarded the tug, and were soon on their way back to 'Frisco. + +When Jones came from the wheel, he had great tales to tell of the +attentions the ladies had paid him. He plainly wished us to understand +that he'd made an impression, but we knew that was not the way of it, +for Old Niven had told Eccles that the pretty one was engaged to be +married to the ship's butcher, down in 'Frisco, a fairy Dutchman of +about fifteen stone six. + + + + +XIII + +HOMEWARD + +In a Sunday morning, while Benicia's bells were chiming for early Mass, +we cast off from the wharf at Port Costa and towed down Sacramento. +Though loaded and in sea trim, we were still short of a proper crew, so +we brought up in 'Frisco Bay to complete our complement. + +Days passed and the boarding-masters could give us no more than two +'rancheros' (who had once seen the sea from Sonoma Heights), and a +young coloured man, a sort of a seaman, who had just been discharged +from Oakland Jail. The Old Man paid daily visits to the Consul, who +could do nothing--there were no men. He went to the boarding-houses, +and had to put up with coarse familiarity, to drink beer with the scum +of all nations, to clap scoundrels on the back and tell them what sly +dogs they were. It was all of no use. The 'crimps' were +crippled--there were no men. + +"Wa-al, Cap.," Daly would say to the Old Man's complaint, "what kin we +dew? I guess we kyan't make men, same's yewr bo'sin 'ud make +spunyarn.... Ain't bin a darned soul in this haouse fer weeks as cud +tell a clew from a crojeck. Th' ships is hangin' on ter ther men like +ole blue! Captens is a-given' em chickens an' soft-tack, be gosh, an' +dollars fer 'a drunk' on Sundays.... When they turns 'em to, it's, +'Naow, lads, me boys! When yew'r ready, me sons!' ... A month a-gone +it was, 'Out, ye swine! Turn aout, damn ye, an' get a move on!' ... +Ah, times is bad, Cap.; times is damn bad! I ain't fingered an advance +note since th' _Dharwar_ sailed--a fortnight ago! Hard times, I guess, +an' we kyan't club 'em aboard, same's we use ter!" + +A hopeless quest, indeed, looking for sailormen ashore; but ships were +expected, and when the wind was in the West the Old Man would be up on +deck at daybreak, peering out towards the Golden Gate, longing for the +glad sight of an inward bounder, that would bring the sorely needed +sailors in from the sea. + +A week passed, a week of fine weather, with two days of a rattling +nor'west wind that would have sent us on our way, free of the land, +with a smother of foam under the bows. All lost to us, for no ships +came in, and we lay at anchor, swinging ebb and flood--a useless hull +and fabric, without a crew to spread the canvas and swing the great +yards! + +Every morning the Mate would put the windlass in gear and set +everything in readiness for breaking out the anchor; but when we saw no +tug putting off, and no harbour cat-boats tacking out from the shore +with sailors' bags piled in the bows, he would undo the morning's work +and put us to 'stand-by' jobs on the rigging. There were other loaded +ships in as bad a plight as we. The _Drumeltan_ was eight hands short +of her crew of twenty-six, and the Captain of the _Peleus_ was +considering the risk of setting off for the Horn, short-handed by +three. Sailors' wages were up to thirty and thirty-five dollars a +month, and at that (nearly the wage of a Chief Mate of a 'limejuicer') +there were no proper able seamen coming forward. Even the 'hobos' and +ne'er-do-weels, who usually flock at 'Frisco on the chance of getting a +ship's passage out of the country, seemed to be lying low. + +One evening the ship _Blackadder_ came in from sea. She was from the +Colonies; had made a long passage, and was spoken of as an extra +'hungry' ship--and her crew were in a proper spirit of discontent. She +anchored near us, and the Old Man gazed longingly at the fine stout +colonials who manned her. He watched the cat-boats putting off from +the shore, and smiled at the futile attempts of the ship's Captain and +Mates to keep the 'crimps' from boarding. If one was checked at the +gangway, two clambered aboard by the head, and the game went merrily on. + +"Where's she from, Mister?" said the Old Man to the Mate who stood with +him. "Did ye hear?" + +"Newcastle, New South Wales, I heard," said Mr. Hollins. "Sixty-five +days out, the butcher said; him that came off with the stores this +morning." + +"Sixty-five, eh! Thirty o' that for a 'dead horse,' an' there'll be +about six pound due the men; a matter o' four or five pound wi' slop +chest an' that! They'll not stop, Mister, damn the one o' them' ... +Ah, there they go; there they go!" Sailors' bags were being loaded +into the cat-boats. It was the case of: + + _The grub was bad, an' th' wages low,_ + _An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_ + + +"Good business for us, anyway," said the Old Man, and told the Mate to +get his windlass ready for 'heaving up' in the morning. + +Alas! he left the other eager shipmasters out of his count. The +Captain of the _Drumeltan_ raised the 'blood-money' to an unheard-of +sum, and two days later towed out to sea, though the wind was W.S.W. +beyond the Straits--a 'dead muzzler'! + +A big American ship--the _J. B. Flint_--was one of the fleet of +'waiters.' She was for China. 'Bully' Nathan was Captain of her (a +man who would have made the starkest of pirates, if he had lived in +pirate times), and many stories of his and his Mates' brutality were +current at the Front. No seaman would sign in the _Flint_ if he had +the choice; but the choice lay with the boarding-master when 'Bully' +Nathan put up the price. + +"Give me gravediggers or organ-grinders, boys, if ye kyan't get +sailormen," he was reported to have said. "Anything with two hands an' +feet. I guess I'm Jan--K.--Nathan, and they'll be sailormen or +'stiffs' before we reach aout!" No one knew where she got a crew, but +while the Britishers were awaiting semi-lawful service, Jan K. slipped +out through the night, getting the boarding-house runners to set sail +for him before they left the _Flint_ with her crew of drugged +longshoremen. At the end of the week we got three more men. Granger, +a Liverpool man, who had been working in the Union Ironworks, and, +"sick o' th' beach," as he put it, wanted to get back to sea again. +Pat Hogan, a merry-faced Irishman, who signed as cook (much to the joy +of Houston, who had been the 'food spoiler' since McEwan cleared). The +third was a lad, Cutler, a runaway apprentice, who had been working +ashore since his ship had sailed. It was said that he had been +'conducting' a tramcar to his own immediate profit and was anxious. We +were still six hands short, but, on the morning after a Yankee clipper +came in from New York, we towed out--with three prostrate figures lying +huddled among the raffle in the fo'cas'le. + + * * * * * + +We raised the anchor about midnight and dawn found us creeping through +the Golden Gate in the wake of a panting tug. There was nothing to +see, for the morning mist was over the Straits, and we had no parting +view of the harbour. The siren on Benita Point roared a raucous +warning as we felt our way past the Head; and that, for us, was the +last of the land. + +When we reached the schooner and discharged our Pilot, it was still a +'clock calm,' and there was nothing for it but to tow for an offing, +while we put the canvas on her in readiness for a breeze. + +At setting sail we were hard wrought, for we were still three hands +short of our complement, and the three in the fo'cas'le were beyond +hope by reason of drug and drink. The blocks and gear were stiff after +the long spell in harbour. Some of the new men were poor stuff. The +Mexican 'rancheros' were the worst; one was already sea-sick, and the +other had a look of despair. They followed the 'crowd' about and made +some show of pulling on the tail of the halyards, but they were very +green, and it was easy to work off an old sailor's trick on +them--'lighting up the slack' of the rope, thus landing them on the +broad of their backs when they pulled--at nothing! We should have had +pity for them, for they never even pretended to be seamen; but we were +shorthanded in a heavy ship, and the more our arms ached, the louder +grew our curses at their clumsy 'sodgerin'.' + +One of the three in the fo'cas'le 'came to' and staggered out on deck +to see where he was. As he gazed about, dazed and bewildered, the +Mate, seeing him, shouted. + +"Here, you! What's yer name?" + +The man passed his hand over his eyes and said, "Hans." + +"Well, Hans, you git along to the tops'l halyards; damn smart's th' +word!" + +With hands to his aching head, the man staggered drunkenly. Everything +was confusion to him. Where was he? What ship? What voyage? The +last he remembered would be setting the tune to a Dago fiddler in a +gaudy saloon, with lashings of drink to keep his feet a-tripping. Now +all was mixed and hazy, but in the mist one thing stood definite, a +seamanlike order: "Top'sl halyards! Damn smart!" Hans laid aft and +tallied on with the crowd. + +Here was a man who had been outrageously used. +Drugged--robbed--'shanghai-ed'! His head splitting with the foul +drink, knowing nothing and no one; but he had heard a seamanlike order, +so he hauled on the rope, and only muttered something about his last +ship having a crab-winch for the topsail halyards! + +About noon we cast off the tug, but there was yet no wind to fill our +canvas, and we lay as she had left us long after her smoke had vanished +from the misty horizon. + +At one we were sent below for our first sea-meal. Over our beef and +potatoes we discussed our new shipmates and agreed that they were a +weedy lot for a long voyage. In this our view was held by the better +men in the fo'cas'le and, after dinner, the crew came aft in a body, +headed by Old Martin, who said "as 'ow they wanted t' speak t' th' +Captin!" + +The Old Man was evidently prepared for a 'growl' from forward, and took +a conciliatory stand. + +"Well, men? What's the trouble? What have you to say?" he said. + +Old Martin took the lead with assurance. "I speaks for all 'ans, +Captin," he said.... "An' we says as 'ow this 'ere barque is +short-'anded; we says as 'ow there's three empty bunks in th' +fo'cas'le; an' two of th' 'ans wot's shipped ain't never bin aloft +afore. We says as 'ow--with all doo respeck, Captin--we wants yer t' +put back t' port for a crew wot can take th' bloomin' packet round the +'Orn, Sir!" + +Martin stepped back, having fired his shot, and he carefully arranged a +position among his mates, so that he was neither in front of the 'men' +or behind, where Houston and the cook and the 'rancheros' stood. + +The Old Man leaned over the poop-rail and looked at the men +collectively, with great admiration. He singled out no man for +particular regard, but just admired them all, as one looks at soldiers +on parade. He moved across the poop to see them at a side angle; the +hands became hotly uncomfortable. + +"What's this I hear, men? What's this I hear?" + +("As fine a crowd o' men as ever I shipped, Mister," a very audible +aside to the Mate.) "What's this I hear? D'ye mean t' tell me that +ye're afraid t' be homeward bound in a well-found ship, just because +we're three hands short of a big 'crowd'?" + +"Wot 'bout them wot ain't never been aloft afore," muttered Martin, +though in a somewhat subdued voice. + +"What about them?" said the Old Man. "What about them? Why, a month +in fo'cas'le alongside such fine seamen as I see before me" (here he +singled out Welsh John and some of the old hands for a pleasant smile), +"alongside men that know their work." (Welsh John and the others +straightened themselves up and looked away to the horizon, as if the +outcome of the affair were a matter of utter indifference to them.) +"D'ye tell me a month alongside men that have sailed with me before +won't make sailors of them, eh? _Tchutt_, I know different.... +Sailors they'll be before we reach the Horn." (Here one of the +potential 'sailors' ran to the ship's side, intent on an affair of his +own.) + +The men turned to one another, sheepish. + +"Ye know well enough we can't get men, even if we did put back to +port," continued the Old Man. "They're no' t' be had! Ye'll have to +do yer best, and I'll see" (a sly wink to the Mate) "that ye ain't put +on. Steward!" + +He gave an order that brought a grin of expectation to the faces of all +''ans,' and the affair ended. + +A wily one was our Old Jock! + +The Mate was indignant at so much talk.... "A 'clip' under the ear for +that Martin," he said, "would have settled it without all that +palaver"; and then he went on to tell the Old Man what happened when he +was in the New Bedford whalers. + +"Aye, aye, man! Aye, aye," said Old Jock, "I know the Yankee game, +Mister--blood an' thunder an' belayin' pins an' six-ounce +knuckle-dusters! Gun play, too, an' all the rest of it. I know that +game, Mister, and it doesn't come off on my ship--no' till a' else has +been tried." + +He took a turn or two up and down the poop, whistling for a breeze. +Out in the nor'-west the haze was lifting, and a faint grey line of +ruffled water showed beyond the glassy surface of our encircling calm. + +"Stan' by t' check th' yards, Mister," he shouted, rubbing his +hands.... "Phe ... w! Phe ... w! Phe ... w! encouraging." + + + + +XIV + +A TRICK AT THE WHEEL + +"Keep 'r full an' by!" + +"Full 'n by!" + +Houston, relieved from the wheel, reports to the Mate and goes forward, +and I am left to stand my trick. + +We are in the south-east trades; a gentle breeze, and all sail set. +Aloft, the ghostly canvas stands out against a star-studded sky, and +the masthead trucks sway in a stately circle as we heave on the light +swell. She is steering easily, asking nothing but a spoke or two when +a fluttering tremor on the weather leach of the royals shows that she +is nearing the wind. The light in the binnacle is dim and spluttering, +the glass smoke-blackened, and one can but see the points on the +compass card. South sou'-west, she heads, swinging a little west at +times, but making a good course. Eccles, who should see to the lights, +is stretched out on the wheel-box grating, resuming the thread of his +slumbers; a muttered "'ware!" will bring him to his feet when the Mate +comes round; meantime, there are stars ahead to steer by, and the +binnacle-lamp may wait. + +South of the Line, at four in the morning, is a fine time to see the +stars, if one be but properly awake. Overhead, Orion has reached his +height, and is now striding towards the western horizon. The Dog-star +is high over the mizzen truck, and Canopus, clear of the weather +backstays, is a friend to a drowsy helmsman. The Southern Cross is +clearing the sea-line, and above it many-eyed Argus keeps watch over +the Pole. Old friends, all of them, companions of many a night watch +on leagues of lonely sea. A glow to the eastward marks where the dawn +will break, and the fleecy trade-clouds about the horizon are already +assuming shape and colour. There the stars are paling, but a planet, +Jupiter, perhaps, stands out in brilliance on the fast lightening sky. + +Forward one bell is struck, and the look-out chants a long-drawn, +"Aw--ll's well!" + +The Mate, who until now has been leaning lazily over the poop rail, +comes aft, yawning whole-heartedly, as men do at sea. He peers into +the dimly-lighted binnacle, turns his gaze to the sail aloft, sniffs +the wind, and fixes me with a stern though drowsy eye. + +"H-mm! You, is it?" (I have but a modest reputation as a steersman.) +"Jest you keep 'r full now, or I'll teach ye steerin' in your watch +below. Keep 'r full, an' no damned shinnanikin!" He goes forward. + +'Shinnanikin' is a sailor word; it means anything at all; it may be +made an adjective or a verb, or almost any part of speech, to serve a +purpose or express a thought. Here it meant that there was to be no +fooling at the helm, that she was to be steered as by Gunter himself. +"Full an' by," was the word. "Full an' by, an' no damned shinnanikin!" +Right! + +The light grows, and the towering mass of canvas and cordage shows +faint shadows here and there. The chickens in the quarter coops stir +and cackle; a cock crows valiantly. Eccles, sleeping his watch on the +lee side of the poop, stirs uneasily, finds a need for movement, and +tramps irresolutely up and down his appointed station. From somewhere +out of sight the Mate shouts an order, and he goes forward to take in +the sidelights; dim and sickly they shine as he lifts them inboard. + +There is now some sign of life about the decks. A keen smell of +burning wood and a glare from the galley show that the cook has taken +up the day's duties. Some men of the watch are already gathered about +the door waiting for their morning coffee, and the 'idlers' (as the +word is at sea), the steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, in various +states of attire, are getting ready for their work. + +Two bells marks five o'clock, and the crowd about the galley door grows +impatient. The cook has a difficulty with his fire, and is behind time. + +"Come on, 'doctor'!" shouts Old Martin; "get a move on yer! Them +tawps'l 'alyards is screechin' fer a pull, an' th' Mate's got 'is +heagle heye on that 'ere fore-tack. 'E'll be a-floggin' th' clock +afore ye knows it!" + +The Mate hears this, as Martin intended he should, and scowls darkly at +that ancient mariner. Martin will have his 'old iron' worked up for +that before the watch is out. He's a hard case. Coffee is served out, +and the crowd disperses. It is now broad daylight, and the sun is on +the horizon. The east is a-fire with his radiance; purest gold there +changing to saffron and rose overhead; and in the west, where fading +stars show, copper-hued clouds are working down to the horizon in track +of the night. Our dingy sails are cut out in seemly curves and glowing +colours against the deep of the sky; red-gold where the light strikes, +and deepest violet in the shadows. Blue smoke from the galley funnel +is wafted aft by the draught from the sails, and gives a kindly scent +to the air; there is no smell like that of wood fires in the pride of +the morning. This is a time to be awake and alive; a morning to be at +the wheel of a leaning ship. + +Presently I am relieved for a few minutes that I may have my coffee. +Being the last man, I get a bo'sun's share of the grounds. To my +protests the cook gives scant heed. + +"Ach, sure! Phwat are yez growlin' at? Sure, if ye'd been in my last +ship, yez wouldn't have none at all! Devil the coffee would yez get +till eight bells ov a marnin', an' tay at thatt, bedad!" + +The 'doctor,' being Irish, is beyond argument, so I take my pannikin +along to our quarters to sift the grounds as best I can. There is +naught but dry ship's biscuit to put down with it, for it is well on in +the week--Thursday, indeed--and only Hansen among us can make his +week's rations last out beyond that; he was bred in the north. The +half-deck is in its usual hopeless disorder--stuffy and close and +dismal in the shuttered half-light. Four small ports give little air, +and sea clothes hanging everywhere crowd up the space. The beams, +blackened by tobacco smoke, are hacked and carved, covered by the +initials and remarks of bygone apprentices. Only the after one is kept +clear; there the Board of Trade inscription (slightly altered by some +inspiring genius), reads, "Certified to suffocate eight seamen." A +dismal hole on a bright morning! Happily, one has not far to go for a +breath of keen air. Ten minutes is my time, and I am back at the wheel +again. + +The Mate is seated on the cabin skylight, smoking. This is his time to +consider the trim of the sails. It is no matter that the evening +before the gear was sweated up to the tautest of sailing trim; the wind +is unchanged, but morning shows wrinkles in the clew of the royals or a +sag in the foot of a topsail. Ropes give mysteriously, and this must +all be righted before the Old Man comes on deck. So he smokes +leisurely and considers the trim. + +The day's work begins at half-past five. The Mate strikes three bells +himself, exact, on the tick of the minute, and goes forward to turn the +men to. + +"Fore tack," as Martin said, is the first order. The Mate signs to me +to luff her up, and when the sail shakes the tack is hove hard down. +Then sheets and halyards are sweated up, ropes coiled, and a boy sent +aloft to stop up the gear. At the main they have the usual morning +wrestle with the weather topsail sheet--a clew that never did fit. +Macallison's loft must have been at sixes and sevens the day they +turned that sail out; a Monday after Glasgow Fair, belike. When the +trim is right, wash deck begins. A bucket and spar is rigged, and the +clear sparkling water is drawn from overside. This is the fine job of +the morning watch in summer seas. The sound of cool sluicing water and +the swish of scrubbing brooms is an invitation that no one can resist. +There is something in it that calls for bare feet and trousers rolled +above the knee. There is grace in the steady throwing of the +water--the brimming bucket poised for the throw, left foot cocked a few +inches above the deck, the balance, and the sweeping half-circle with +the limpid water pouring strongly and evenly over the planking; then +the recovery, and the quick half-turn to pass the empty bucket and +receive a full--a figure for a stately dance! + +Now it is six, and I strike four bells. Martin has the next trick, but +I see no signs of my relief. The Mate will have him at some lowly +'work-up' job, cleaning pig-pens or something like that, for his hint +about flogging the clock in the morning. The cranky old 'shellback' is +always 'asking for it.' + +In the waist a row begins, a bicker between the sailmaker and bo'sun. +Old Dutchy is laying it off because someone has spilt water on the +main-hatch, where a sail is spread out, ready for his work. In course, +the bo'sun has called him a 'squarehead,' and 'Sails,' a decent old +Swede, is justly indignant at the insult; only Germans are squareheads, +be it known. "Skvarehedd! Jou calls me skvarehedd! Ah vass no more +skvarehedd as jou vass," he says, excited. "Jou tinks d' sheep vass +jours, mit jour vash-backet und deck-scrub. Dere vass no places for d' +sailmake, aindt it? Skvarehedd! Skvarehedd jourselluf, dam Cockney +loafer!" There are the makings of a tidy row, but the Mate, coming +from forrard, cuts it short. + +"Now, then, you men there, quit yer chinning an' get on with the work!" + +'Sails' tries to explain his grievance, but meets with little sympathy. + +"Squarehead? Well, what the hell's th' odds, anyhow? If ye ain't a +squarehead, ye'r as near it 's can be!" + +This is rough on old 'Sails,' whose proud boast is that he has been +"for thirty jahrs sailmake mit British sheeps in!" He goes sorrowfully +to his work, and bends over his seam with many shakings of the head. +"Skvarehedd!" + +Time is drawing on, and I am getting tired of my long trick, when I see +Martin coming round the deck-house. He has donned the familiar old red +flannel shirt that he stands his wheel in, and, bareheaded as he always +is at sea, he looks a typical old salt, a Western Ocean warrior. He +mounts the lee ladder, crosses to windward in the fashion of the sea, +and stands behind me. Here, I thought, is a rare chance to get at +Martin. I give him the Mate's last steering order as I got it. + +"Full an' by," I said, concealing a foolish grin; "full an' by, and no +damned shinnanikin!" Martin looked at me curiously. "No shinnanikin," +was a new order to a man who could steer blindfold, by the wind on his +cheek; to a man who had steered great ships for perhaps half a century. +On the other hand, orders were orders, meant to be repeated as they +were given, seamanlike. + +Martin squared himself, put a fresh piece of tobacco in position, and +gripped the spokes. "Full 'n' by," he said, lifting his keen old eyes +to the weather clews of the royals, "full 'n' by, 'n' no damned +shinnanikin, it is!" + + + + +XV + +''OLY JOES' + +"She'll be one o' them 'oly Joes; them wot cruises among th' Islands +wi' tracks an' picter books for th' bloomin' 'eathens!" + +"'O--ly Joes! 'Oly Joes b' damn," said Martin. "'Oly Joes is +schooners same's mission boats on th' Gran' Banks! ... 'Oly Joes! +She's a starvation Britisher, that's wot _she_ is; a pound an' pint +ruddy limejuicer by th' set o' them trucks; sailor's misery in them +painted bloomin' ports o' her." + +The subject of discussion was a full-rigged ship, standing upright in +mid-Pacific, with all her canvas furled; looking as she might be in +Queenstown Harbour awaiting orders. The south-east trades had blown us +out of the tropics, and we held a variable wind, but there was nothing +in the clean, fresh morning to cause even a Killala pilot to clew up, +and the strange sight of an idle ship in a working breeze soon drew all +hands from work and slumber, to peer over the head rail, to vent +deep-sea logic over such an odd happening. + +One of the younger hands had expressed an opinion, and Martin, who held +that "boys an' Dutchmen should only speak when spoke to," was +scornfully indignant. + +"'O--ly bloomin' Joe! ... 'Ow should she be an 'oly Joe, me young +'know-all'? Wot d'ye know 'bout 'oly Joes, anyway?" + +"Well! ... 'eard as 'ow they clews up at eight bells o' a Saturd'y +night an' prays, solid on, till they sets tawps'ls, jack-easy, ov a +Monday mornin'!" + +The laugh of derision sent him shamefaced to the fo'cas'le, and we +talked about till there was a call for all hands to haul courses up and +stand by to work ship. We hauled sharp up to windward, and, as we drew +on, we saw what was the matter, and the sight caused our Old Man to +dive below to his charts, cursing his wayward chronometer. + +We saw the loom of a low island, scarce raised above the sea, with the +surf breaking lightly, and the big ship piled up, all standing, on the +verge of the weather reef. She looked to be but lately gone on, for +her topsides were scarce weather-beaten. The boats were gone from her +skids, and the davit tackles, swinging lubberly overside, told that her +crew had left her. Aloft, she seemed to be in good trim, and her sails +were as well stowed as if she were lying in the Canning Dock with her +nose against the Custom House. We lay-to for some time with our ensign +apeak, but saw no sign of life aboard of the wreck, and when we fired a +charge from our signal-gun (a rusty six-pounder), only a few sea-birds +rose at the report. We were about to bear off on our course again when +we saw two sail rounding the reef from the west side, and beating out. + +There was but a light breeze, and they were some time in reaching us. +One was a large boat with barked canvas, going well and weatherly, but +the other, plainly a ship's lifeboat, hung heavy in the wind, and +presently her crew lowered sail and came at us under oars. The big +boat reached us first, her steersman taking every inch out of the +fickle breeze. Plainly these were no deep-water sailor-men, by the way +they handled their boat. Smart, wiry men, they had no look of +castaways, and their light cotton clothes were cleanly and in order. +As they sheered alongside they hailed us in clear, pleasant English: +one shouted, in face of our line of wondering seamen, a strange sea +salutation: + +"God bless you, Captain Leish! Are you long out?" + +"Blimy," said the bo'sun, "th' young 'un wos right after all. 'Oly +Joes they be!" + +"Mebbe 'oly Joes, but them ain't sailormen," muttered Martin sullenly; +"them's Kanakas!" + +Neither was quite right, for the boatmen were Pitcairn Islanders, and +they were soon on deck greeting us in the friendly way of men from +afar. Their leader went aft to the Old Man, and the rest remained to +tell us of the wreck, in exchange for what scant knowledge we had of +affairs. + +The island was called Oeno. The ship was the _Bowden_, of Liverpool. +She had gone ashore, six weeks back, in a northerly wind, with all sail +on her: chronometer was twenty miles out: a bad case, the whole bottom +was ripped out of her, and her ruined cargo of grain smelt abominably; +two of their men were already sick. Ugh! ... The crew of the ship had +made for Pitcairn, ninety miles to the southward; they might be there +now. They (the Islanders) had now been three weeks on the reef, +salving what they could. There was not much: they were all pretty sick +of the job, and wanted to get back to Pitcairn. Perhaps the Captain +would give them a passage; it was on the way? + +As we stood about, the Old Man and the leader of the Islanders came out +of the cabin, and talked with the others. All wanted to get back to +Pitcairn, and, the Old Man agreeing to give them a passage, we hoisted +the smaller boat on our davits, towed the other astern, and were soon +on our way towards Pitcairn. + +When we got the ship in fair sailing trim, we had a rare opportunity of +learning something of the Island and its people. Discipline was, for +the time, relaxed, and but for working ship, in which the Islanders +joined us, we had the time to ourselves. In the shade of the great +sails, we stood or sat about, and our decks showed an unusual animation +in the groups of men colloguing earnestly--strangers met by the way. + +In stature the Islanders were perhaps above the average height, lithe +and wiry, and but few were darker-skinned than a Spaniard or Italian. +They spoke excellent English (though, among themselves, they had a few +odd words), and their speech had no unnecessary adjectives. They had a +gentle manner, and no ill language; sometimes our rough ship talk +raised a slight protest; a raised hand, or a mild, "Oh, Sir!" Their +leader, who was Governor of the Island, was a man in the prime of life, +and, though dressed in dungarees and a worn cotton shirt, barefooted +like the rest, had a quiet dignity in his manner and address that +caused even our truculent Old Martin to call him Sir. There was one +outlander among them, a wiry old man, an American whaleman, who had +been settled on the Island for many years; he it was who steered the +boat, and he knew a little of navigation. + +Their talk was mostly of ships that had visited the Island, and they +asked us to run over the names of the ships that were at 'Frisco when +we left; when we mentioned a ship that they knew, they were eager to +know how it fared with her people. They had fine memories. They could +name the Captain and Mates of each ship; of the whalers they had the +particulars even down to the bulk of oil aboard. They seemed to take a +pleasure in learning our names, and, these known, they let pass no +opportunity of using them, slipping them into sentences in the oddest +manner. They themselves had few surnames--Adams, Fletcher, Christian, +and Hobbs (the names of their forefathers, the stark mutineers of the +_Bounty_)--but their Christian names were many and curious, sometimes +days of the week or even dates. They told us that there was a child +named after our Old Man, who had called off the Island the day after it +was born, five years ago; a weird name for a lassie! In one way the +Islanders had a want. They had no sense of humour. True, they laughed +with us at some merry jest of our Irish cook, but it was the laugh of +children, seeing their elders amused, and though they were ever +cheery-faced and smiling, they were strangely serious in their outlook. + +We had light winds, and made slow progress, and it was the afternoon of +the second day when we saw Pitcairn, rising bold and solitary, on the +lee bow. The sun had gone down before we drew nigh, and the Island +stood sharp outlined against the scarlet and gold of a radiant western +sky. Slowly the light failed, and the dark moonless night found us +lifting lazily to the swell off the north point. The Islanders manned +their boats and made off to the landing place. It was clock calm, and +we heard the steady creak of their oars long after the dark had taken +them. We drifted close to the land, and the scent of trees, lime and +orange, was sweetly strange. + +The boats were a long time gone, and the Old Man was growing impatient, +when we heard voices on the water, and saw, afar off, the gleam of +phosphorescence on the dripping oars. We heard the cheery hail, "The +_Florence_, ahoy!" and burned a blue light to lead them on. + +There were many new men in the boats, and they brought a cargo of fruit +and vegetables to barter with us. The Old Man heaved a sigh of relief +when he learned that the _Bowden's_ crew were disposed of; they had +taken passage in a whaler that had called, nine days before, on her way +across to Valparaiso--a 'full' ship. + +In odd corners the bartering began. Cotton clothes were in most +demand; they had little use for anything heavier. A basket of a +hundred or more luscious oranges could be had for an old duck suit, and +a branch of ripening bananas was counted worth a cotton shirt in a +reasonable state of repair. Hansen had red cotton curtains to his +bunk, full lengths, and there was keen bidding before they were taken +down, destined to grace some island beauty. After the trade in +clothing had become exhausted, there were odd items, luxuries to the +Islanders, soap, matches, needles, thread. There was a demand for +parts of old clocks--Martin it was who had a collection; they told us +that there was a man on the island who was a famous hand at putting up +and repairing such battered timepieces as we had to offer. They had +some curios; rudely carved or painted bamboos, and sea-shells cunningly +fashioned into pin-cushions, with Pitcairn in bold black letters, just +as one might see "A Present from Largs." These were the work of the +women-folk, and showed considerable ingenuity in the way the shells +were jointed. + +Although they seemed to have a good idea of the value of the trifles we +offered, there was no 'haggling,' and latterly, when trade slackened, +it came to be, "Sir! if you like this, I will give it to you, and you +will give me something." + +There was no cheating. Those of our crew who would glory in 'bilking' +a runner or a Dutchman were strangely decent, even generous, in their +dealings. When we were called away to brace the yards round, stock was +taken on both sides; the Islanders had their boats well laden, and our +once trim deck was strewn with a litter of fruit and vegetables, like +the top of Bell Street on a busy morning. + +Light was breaking into the east when we laid the yards to a gentle +breeze, and shortly the Islanders, with a great shaking of hands and +"God bless you," got aboard their boats and sheered off. We were now +to leeward of the Island, and the light showed us the bold wooded +heights, high cliffs, steep to the water's edge, and the small houses +scattered apart among the trees. Astern the boats had hoisted sail, +and were standing inshore, leaning gently to the scented land breeze. +The ''oly Joes' were singing together as they sailed; the tune was an +old familiar one that minded us of quiet Sabbath days in the homeland, +of kirk and kent faces, and, somehow, we felt that it was we who were +the 'bloomin' 'eathens,' for their song was 'Rock of Ages,' and it had +a new sound, mellowed by distance and the water. + + + + +XVI + +EAST, HALF SOUTH + +On a day of high action in sea and sky we fled, hot-foot, before the +fury of a nor'-west gale. We had run her overlong. Old Jock, for once +at any rate, had had his weather eye bedimmed. He was expecting a +quick shift into the sou'-west, a moderate gale, and a chance to make +his 'easting' round Cape Horn, but the wind hung stubbornly in the +nor'-west; there was no break in the sky, no cessation in the black +bursts of rain and sleet that swept upon us. A huge sea set up, and we +were past the time when we could, in safety, heave her to the wind. +There was nothing for it but to run--run she did. + +We had tops'ls and a reefed foresail on her while daylight lasted, but +on threat of darkness we stowed all but the foretops'l; wings enough +for the weight of a hurricane wind. Under that narrow band of +straining canvas she sped on into the murk of advancing night, while +behind the lurid western sky showed threat of a mightier blast in bank +upon bank of ragged storm-cloud. It was a wild night, never a wilder! + +In the darkness the uncanny green shimmer of breaking seas gave an +added terror to the scene of storm. Rain and stinging sleet swept +constantly over us, thundering seas towered and curled at our stern, +lapping viciously at the fleeting quarter, or, parting, crashed aboard +at the waist, filling the decks man high with a power of destruction. +Part of the bulwarks were torn from the side. That was, perhaps, the +saving of us, for the seas swept off as fast as they thundered aboard, +and the barque rode buoyant, when, with bulwarks standing, the weight +of compassed water would have held her at mercy of the next towering +greybeard. A boat on the forward skids was smashed to atoms and the +wreck swept overboard, and every moment we looked to see our crazy +half-deck go tottering to ruin. The fo'ca'sle was awash through a +shattered door, and all hands were gathered on the poop for such safety +as it held. There was nowhere else where man could stand on the +reeling hull, and crouching at the rails, wet and chilled to the +marrow, we spent the night a-watching. + +The bo'sun and Martin and Hans took turns of the steering; that was +work beyond the rest of us, and the most we could do was to stand by +a-lee and bear on the spokes with the helmsman. Dutchy was the best +steersman, and his steering was no truer than the stout heart of him. +Once she pooped, and the crest of a huge following sea came crashing on +top of us. But for our hold-fasts, all would have been swept away. +That was the time of trial. A falter at the helm--she would have +'broached-to'--to utter destruction! + +Amid the furious rush of broken water, 'Dutchy' stood fast at his post, +though there was a gash on his forehead and blood running in his +eyes--the work of the wrenching wheel. + +We showed no lights; no lamps would stand to the weather. There was +only the flickering binnacle, tended as never was temple fire, to show +the compass card. By turns we kept a look-out from the tops'l yard, +but of what use was that when we could steer but to one point. We were +a ship of chance, and God help us and the outward-bounder, 'hove-to' in +the trough, that had come between us and the east that night! + +How we looked for daylight! How it was long a-coming! How the +mountain seas raced up and hove our barque, reeling from the blow, from +towering crest to hollow of the trough! How every day of the +twenty-five years of her cried out in creak of block, in clatter of +chain sheet, in the 'harping' of the backstays, the straining groan of +the burdened masts! + +From time to time through the night the Mate and some of us would go +forward to see to the gear; there was no need to touch a brace, for the +wind blew ominously true. When we got back again, battered and +breathless, it was something to know that the foretops'l still stood +the strain. It was a famous sail, a web of '00 storm,' stitched and +fortified at seam and roping for such a wind as this. Good luck to the +hands that stitched it, to the dingy sail loft in the Govan Road that +turned it out, for it stood us in stead that night! + +Once an ill-stowed clew of the mains'l blew out with a sounding crack, +and thrashed a 'devil's tattoo' on the yard. We thought it the tops'l +gone--but no! Macallison's best stood bravely spread to the shrieking +gale, and we soon had the ribbons of the main clew fast to the yard. + +There was no broad dawn, no glow in the east to mark its breaking; the +light grew out of the darkness. The masts and spars shaped themselves +out of the gloom, till they stood outlined against the dull grey +clouds. We could see the great seas, white-streaked by lash of driven +spray, running up into the lowering sky. When day came, and the +heaving, wind-swept face of the waters became plain to us, we saw the +stormy path round the Horn in its wildest, grandest mood. Stretching +far to the black murky curtain--the rear of the last shrieking rain +squall--the great Cape Horn greybeards swept on with terrific force and +grandeur, their mile-long crests hurtling skyward in blinding foam. +The old barque ran well, reeling through the long, stormy slopes with +buoyant spring, driving wildly to the trough, smashing the foam far +aside. At times she poised with sickening uncertitude on the crest of +a greater wave, then steadied, and leapt with the breaking water to the +smoother hollow. + +The Old Man stood by the helmsman, 'conning' her on. All night he had +stood there, ordering, to the shock of following seas, a steady voiced +command. Never a gainly man--short-legged, broad, uncouth--his was yet +a figure in keeping with the scene; unkempt and haggard, blue-lipped, +drenched by sea and rain, he was never less than a Master of the Sea. +At daybreak we heard a hail from the tops'l yard, and saw the +'look-out' pointing ahead. Peering down the wind, we made out the loom +of a ship rising and falling in the trough of the sea. A big +'four-master' she proved, lying 'hove-to' the wind. We shuddered to +think of what would have been if daylight had been further delayed! + +Out of the mist and spray we bore down on her and flew by, close to her +stern. We could see figures on her poop staring and pointing, a man +with glasses at his eyes. Only a fleeting glimpse--for she was soon +swallowed up by the murk astern, and we were driving on. The shift of +wind came suddenly. Nearly at noon there was a heavier fall of rain, a +shrieking squall that blew as it had never blown. The Old Man marked +the signs--the scud of the upper clouds, a brightening low down in the +south. + +"Stan' by ... head ... yards," he yelled, shouting hoarsely to be +heard. "Quick ... the word!" + +All hands struggled to the braces, battling through the wash of icy +water that swept over the decks. + +The squall passed, followed by a lull that served us to cant the yards; +then, sharp as a knife-thrust, the wind came howling out of the +sou'-west. The rain ceased and the sky cleared as by a miracle. Still +it blew and the seas, turned by the shift of wind, broke and shattered +in a whirl of confusion. For a time we laboured through the +treacherous cross sea--the barque fretting and turning to windward, +calling for all of 'Dutchy's' cunning at the helm, but it was none so +ill with the sun in sight and a clearing overhead. + +"Blast ye," said the Old Man, shaking his benumbed arms towards the +sou'-west. "Blast ye--but ye've been a long time comin'!" + +The wind was now to his liking, it was the weather he had looked for, +and sure enough, as quick succeeding squalls rolled up on us, the sea +grew less and ran truer, and the barque sailed easier. The wind fell +to a moderate gale, and by four in the afternoon we had a reefed +foresail and the tops'ls set, and were staggering along at a great +speed. + +The decks were yet awash, there was no comfort on deck or below; but +through it all we had one consoling thought: _East, half south_, we +were covering the leagues that lay between us and our journey's end! + + + + +XVII + +ADRIFT! + +Car-conducting may be a work of niceness and despatch, but it is ill +training for working on the spars of a rolling ship. John Cutler was +mousing clew-blocks on the main-yardarm, the ship lurched heavily, the +foot-ropes were wet and slippery, and John, ill-balanced and unready, +was cast into the sea. Instant, there was the cry "Man overboard"; the +Old Man ordered the helm down, and, springing to the rack, threw a +lifebuoy from the starboard quarter; the Second Mate, not seeing him +throw it, threw another from the port. + +We were below at the time, just after dinner, about to turn in, when we +heard the call. All hands ran on deck. The watch were swinging the +head yards; some were unlashing the lee boat. We joined them, tore the +cover off, hooked the tackles, and swung her out. There was confusion; +the Old Man and the Mate shouting cross orders, the boat swinging +wildly on the tackles, men crowding about the rail. + +"Another hand in the boat," yelled the Second Mate, as he sprang into +the stern-sheets, "lower away, you!" + +There was a whirr of block sheaves, the falls smoking on the pins, a +splash, a rush of water on the rusty side. "Bow off, there! Bow off, +you!" and I found myself in the bow of the boat, tugging frantically at +the heft of a long oar. + +There was that in the steady _clack--clack-a_ of oar on rowlock to +soothe the tremors of our moment of excited haste. Astern was the +barque, her mainyards aback, rolling heavily athwart the swell; we were +leaving her slowly, for, though the breeze was light, we had to climb +the long steep slopes of a Cape Horn swell. Old Martin's broad back +was bent to the oar in front of me, Houston beyond, and the bo'sun at +the stroke. The Second Mate was standing up at the tiller, listening +for a hail, gazing anxiously ahead for gleam of a painted life-buoy. +_Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; the bo'sun was setting us a feverish +stroke; it couldn't last. _Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; we were +already breathing heavily. Up and down the heaving swell we went; +crawling laboured to the crown--the shudder, and the quick, sickening +descent! _Clack--clack-a_! Would it ever end? Now I was pulling out +of stroke--a feeble paddle. My neck! I had the pain there! ... "Bow, +there! Lay in, an' keep yer eyes about. He must be here somewhere!" + +I laid in my oar, and faced about. We could not see far, the swell was +too great. When the boat rose we had a hasty glimpse of the face of +the water, but in the hollow, the great glassy walls rose ahead and +astern. We thought we had overrun the distance, and lay-to for a time. +Then on again, shouting as we went. The Second Mate saw something on +the crest of a roller, just a glimpse, and we pulled to it. It was +Cutler's round cap; we had steered a good course. Near by we found him +with his arm twisted round the grab rope of the lifebuoy. He was dazed +and quiet when we dragged him over the stern. + +"Oh, Chris'! Oh, Chris'!" was all he said. + +We were about to return when Mr. M'Kellar thought of the second +lifebuoy. + +"Bow, there! D'ye see the other buoy; it'll be somewhere t' th' +norrard!" + +I stood up, unsteadily. There was something white in the hollow of a +farther roller. We edged over; it was but a fleck of foam. Farther +over, up and down the swell we climbed until we found it. We turned to +row back. "Back starboard! Pull port, you!" the boat's head swung +round, and we rose quickly on the following swell. + +There was a startled cry from the stern-sheets, "_O Dhia! O Dhia!_" + +Well might M'Kellar cry out, for, unobserved of any, the mist had +closed in on us. There was no ship in sight, no point to steer +for--nothing to guide; there was only the great glassy walls rising and +falling, moving up into the thickening mist. + +A panic seized us; furiously we rowed, driving the boat into it with no +thought of course or distance. She was awash underfoot before we +exhausted ourselves, and lay, breathing heavily, over the oars. + +The bo'sun was the first to regain a state of sanity. "Vast rowin'," +he cried; "vast rowin'! We cawn't do no good like this. Liy 'er to, +Mister! Liy-to; it's the ownly thing!" + +M'Kellar put the tiller over, and we brought her head to swell again. + +We stood up, all eyes a-watching; we shouted together, listened intent; +there was no friendly sail looming in the mist, no answer to our cries. +We rowed aimlessly. Sometimes we fancied we could hear a hail or a +creak of blocks. We would lash blindly at the oars till the foam flew, +then lie-to again. There was no compass in the boat, no food; only a +small barreca of water. Sometimes it is thick weather off the Horn for +days! If the mist held? + +Cutler, crouching, shivering in the stern-sheets, began to cry like a +child. Cold, wet, unnerved, he was feeling it worst of us all. "Shut +up," said the Second Mate, dragging off his jacket and throwing it over +the shivering lad. Old Martin was strangely quiet; he, too, was +shivering. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the call, +and was ill-clad for boat service. Only once did he show a bit of his +old gallant truculence. "All right, Mister! If we loses track o' th' +ship, we've got plenty o' prewisions! We can eat them lifebuoys, wot +ye was so keen a-gettin'!" + +"Oh, quit yer chinnin', ye old croak! 'Oo's talkin' abaht losin' track +o' th' ship!" The bo'sun didn't like to think! Cutler became +light-headed, and began to talk wildly; he would stand up, pointing and +shouting out, "There she is, there!" Then he began to make queer +noises, and became very quiet. There was the canvas boat cover lying +in the bottom of the boat. The bo'sun put this round him, and I was +ordered aft to rub him down. + +The cold became intense. When the heat of our mad spurt had passed, +depression came on us and we cowered, chilled to the marrow by the +mist, on the gratings of the heaving boat. Long we lay thus, Houston +and the bo'sun pulling a listless stroke to keep her head to the swell. +We had no count of time. Hours must have passed, we thought. + +"The Dago 'll hae ma trick at th' wheel, noo," said Houston strangely. +"It wis ma turn at fower bells!" + +No one heeded him. + +"They'll hae tae shift some o' th' hauns i' th' watches, eh? ... wi' +you, an' Martin, an' th' young fla' no' there!" he continued. + +"Oh, shut up, damn ye! Shut up, an' listen. _O Dhia!_ can ye hear +nocht?" M'Kellar, standing up on the stern-sheets, was casting wild +glances into the pall that enshrouded us. "Here! All together, men--a +shout!" + +A weakly chorus went out over the water. + +Silence. + +Suddenly Houston stood up. "Maister, did ye hear that--a cheep!" We +thought that he was going off like Cutler; we could hear nothing. "A +cheep, Ah telt ye, Maister; a cheep, as shair's daith!" Houston was +positive. "The jerk o' a rudder, or" ... Almost on top of us there was +a flash of blinding fire, the roar of a gun followed! + +We sprang to the oars, shouting madly--shaping out of the mist was the +loom of a square sail, there was sound of a bell struck. No need now +to talk of eating lifebuoys; Houston would be in time for his trick at +the wheel! + + * * * * * + +"What th' blazes kept ye, Mister? We saw ye pickin' th' man up! What +made ye turn t' th' norrard?" The Old Man had a note of anger in his +voice. + +"Well, Sir, we couldn't see th' other buoy, an' I thought it a peety if +we didn't pick it up; an' while we were lookin' for it, we lost track +o' th' ship," said Mister M'Kellar, ashamed and miserable. + +The Mate broke in, "Ye damn fool! D'ye mean t' tell us ye risked a +whole boat's crew for a tuppence-ha'penny lifebuoy? B'gad, it would +serve ye right if ye had t' go seekin' like th' Flying Dutchman!" The +Mate continued to curse such stupidity, but the Old Man, though +permitting the Mate to rail, was wonderfully silent. After all, +M'Kellar, like himself, was a Scotchman, and much may be forgiven to a +Scotchman--looking after his owners' property! + + + + +XVIII + +"----AFTER FORTY YEAR!" + +"Martin?" ... "_Huh!_" "Lewis?" ... "_Iss!_" "Granger?" ... "_'Ere!_" +"Ulricks?" ... "_Ya!_" "Dago Joe?" ... "_Ser!_" "'Ansen?" ... "_Yep!_" +"Bunn?" ... "_Yes!_" "Munro?" ... "_Here!_" +"Eccles?--ECCLES!--ECC--Damn your eyes, lay 'long 'ere! You goin' t' +keep awl 'ans waitin'?" Eccles joined us fumbling with the buttons of +his jacket. (Eccles, for the time limit!) "Awl 'ere," continued the +bo'sun; then reported to the Mate, "Watch is aft, Sir!" + +A surly growl that might have been, "Relieve the wheel and look-out," +came from the poop, and we were dismissed muster; the starboard watch +to their rest; we of the port to take our turn on deck. + +It was a cold, raw morning that fell to our lot. A light wind, blowing +from north of west in fitful puffs, scarcely slanted the downpour of +thin, insistent rain; rain that by the keenness of it ought to have +been snow or sleet. The sea around was shrouded in mist, and breaking +day, coming in with a cold, treacherous half-light, added to the +illusion that made the horizon seem scarcely a length away. The barque +was labouring unsteadily, with a long westerly swell--the ghost of the +Cape Horn 'greybeards '--running under her in oily ridges. + +It needed but a bite of freshening wind to rouse the sea; at the lash +of a sudden gale the 'greybeards' would be at us again--whelming and +sweeping. Even in quiet mood they were loath to let us go north, and +we jarred and rattled, rolled, lurched, and wallowed as they hove at +us. Heave as they did, we were still able to make way on our course, +standing with yards in to the quartering wind and all plain sail on her. + +Thick weather! The horizon closed to us at a length or so ahead. But +she was moving slowly, four knots at the most, and we were well out of +the track of ships! Oh, it was all right--all right; and aft there the +Mate leaned over the poop rail with his arms squared and his head +nodding--now and then! + +As the light grew, it seemed to bring intenser cold. Jackets were not +enough; we donned coats and oilskins and stamped and stamped on the +foredeck, yawning and muttering and wishing it was five o'clock and the +'doctor' ready with the blessed coffee: the coffee that would make men +of us; vile 'hogwash' that a convict would turn his face at, but what +seemed nectar to us at daybreak, down there in fifty-five! + +By one bell the mist had grown denser, and the Mate sung out sudden and +angrily for the foghorn to be sounded. + +"Three blasts, d'ye 'ear," said the bo'sun, passing the horn up to +Dago, the look-out. "_Uno! ... Doo! ... Tray!_" (Three fingers held +up.) ... "_Tray_, ye burnt scorpion! ... An' see that ye sounds 'em +proper, or I'll come up there an' hide th' soul-case out o' ye! ... +(Cow-punchin' hoodlum! Good job I knows 'is bloomin' lingo!)" + +Now we had a tune to our early rising, a doleful tune, a tune set to +the deepening mist, the heaving sea, at dismal break of day. _R-r-ah! +... R-r-ah! Ra!_ was the way it ran; a mournful bar, with windy gasps +here and there, for Dago Joe was more accustomed to a cowhorn. + +"A horn," said Welsh John suddenly. "Did 'oo hear it?" + +No one had heard. We were gathered round the galley door, all talking, +all telling the 'doctor' the best way to light a fire quickly. + +"_Iss_! A horn, I tell 'oo! ... Listen! ... Just after ours is +sounded!" + +_R-r-ah! ... R-r-ah! ... R-ah!_ Joe was improving. + +We listened intently.... "There now," said John! + +Yes! Sure enough! Faint rasps answering ours. Ulrichs said three; +two, I thought! + +"Don't ye 'ear that 'orn, ye dago fiddler," shouted the bo'sun.... +"'Ere! Hup there, one of ye, an' blow a proper blast! That damn +hoodlum! Ye couldn't 'ear 'is trumpetin' at th' back of an area +railin's!" + +John went on the head; the bo'sun aft to report. + +A proper blast! The Welshman had the trick of the wheezing 'gad jet.' +... Ah! There again! ... Three blasts, right enough! ... She would +be a square rigger, running, like ourselves! ... Perhaps we were +making on her! ... The sound seemed louder.... It came from ahead! + +R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! + +_... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh!_ + +The Mate was now on the alert, peering and listening. At the plain +answer to our horn, he rapped out orders. "Lower away main an' +fore-to'gal'ns'ls ... let 'em hang, an' lay aft and haul th' mains'l +up! Come aft here, one of you boys, and call th' Captain! Tell him +it's come down thick! Sharp, now!" + +I went below and roused the Old Man. + +"Aye ... all right," he said, feeling for his sea-boots. (South'ard of +the 'forties' Old Jock slept 'all standing,' as we say.) .... "Thick, +eh? ... Tell th' Mate t' keep th' horn goin'! ... A ship, ye say? ... +Running, eh? ... Aye! All right ... I'll be up...." + +I had scarcely reached the poop again before the Old Man was at my +back. "Thick, b'Goad," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Man, man! Why was +I not called before?" + +The Mate muttered something about the mist having just closed in.... +"Clear enough t' be goin' on before that," he said. + +"Aye, aye! Where d'ye mak' this ship? Ye would see her before the +mist cam' doon, eh?" + +"Sound that horn, forrard there!" shouted the Mate, moving off to the +gangway. "Keep that horn going, there!" + +John pumped a stirring blast.... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... +R-R-R-R-R-AH! + +We bent forward with ears strained to catch the distant note. + +... _R-r-r-r-eh!_ ... At the first answering blast Old Jock raised +his head, glancing fearfully round.... _R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r----_ +"Down hellum! DOWN HELLUM! DOWN," he yelled, running aft to the +wheel! "Haul yards forrard! Le'go port braces! Let 'm rip! Le'go +an' haul! ... Quick, Mist'r! Christ! What ye standin' at? ... +Ice! Ice, ye bluidy eedi't! Ice! Th' echo! Let go! LE'GO AN' HAUL! +LE'GO!" + +Ice! The Mate stood stupid for an instant--then jumped to the +waist--to the brace pins--roaring hoarse orders. "All hands on deck! +Haul away, there! All hands! On deck, men--for your lives!" + +Ice! At the dread cry we ran to the ropes and tailed on with desperate +energy! Ice! The watch below, part dressed, swarmed from house and +fo'cas'le and hauled with us--a light of terror in their eyes--the +terror that comes with stark reason--when the brain reels from restful +stupor at a trumpet of alarms! + +Ice! The decks, that so late had been quiet as the air about us, +resounded to the din of sudden action! Yards swinging forward with a +crash--blocks _whirring_--ropes hurtling from the pins--sails lifting +and thrashing to the masts--shouts and cries from the swaying haulers +at the ropes--hurried orders--and, loud over all, the raucous bellow of +the fog-horn when Dago Joe, dismayed at the confusion, pumped +furiously, _Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra!_ + +... _Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh! Reh!_ ... Note for note--the echo--out +of the mist! + +"Belay, all! Well, mainyards!" The order steadied us. We had time +now to look! ... There was nothing in sight! ... No towering monster +looming in our path--no breakers--no sea--no sky; nothing! Nothing but +the misty wall that veiled our danger! The Unknown! The Unseen! + +She was swinging slowly against the scend of the running swell--laying +up to the wind. Martin had the wheel and was holding the helm down, +his keen eyes watching for the lift that would mark the limit of +steering-way. The Old Man stood by the compass, bending, peering, +smiling--nosing at the keen air--his quick eyes searching the +mist--ahead--abeam--astern.... Martin eased the helm; she lay quietly +with sails edged to the wind, the long swell heaving at her--broadside +on. + +Suddenly a light grew out of the mist and spread out on both bows--a +luminous sheen, low down on the narrowed sea-line! The 'ice-blink'! +Cold! White! + +At the first glow the Old Man started--his lips framed to roar an +order! ... No order came! + +Quickly he saw the hopelessness of it; what was to happen was plain, +inevitable! Broad along the beam, stretching out to leeward, the great +dazzling 'ice-blink' warned him of a solid barrier, miles long, +perhaps! The barque lay to the wind, at mercy of the swell, drifting +dead to leeward at every heave! ... On the other tack, perhaps? There +was a misty gap to the south of us; no 'ice-blink' there! ... If she +could be put about? ... No, there was no chance! ... To gather speed +to put her about he would have to bear off towards the brightening +sheen! Already the roar of the swell, lashing at the base, was loud in +our ears! ... There was no room! No sea-room to wear or stay! + +"Embayed!" he said bitterly, turning his palms up! ... "All hands aft +and swing th' port boat out!" + +The port boat? The big boat? Had it come, so soon, to that? More +than one of us cast an anxious look at the broad figure of our Master +as we ran aft. He stood quite still, glaring out at the ice ring. + +"This is it, eh!" he muttered, unheeding the stir and cries of us. +"This is it--after forty year!" + +Madly we tore and knifed at the lashings, working to clear the big +boat. She was turned down on the skids (the fashion of thrifty +'limejuicers'), bound and bolted to stand the heavy weather. We were +handless, unnerved by the suddenness of it all, faulty at the task. +The roar of breaking water spurred us on.... A heave together! .... +Righted, we hooked the falls and swayed her up. The Mate looked aft +for the word. "Aye," said the Old Man. "Oot wi' her, an' try tae tow +th' heid roun'! On th' ither tack we micht----" He left the words +unfinished! Well he knew we could never drag three thousand tons +against that swell! + +A wild outcry turns our eyes forward. Dago Joe (forgotten on the +lookout) is running aft, his precious horn still slung from his +shoulders. "_Arretto! Arretto! Arretto!_" He yells as he runs. +"_Arretto, Capitan!_" waving his arms and signing to the Old Man to +stop the ship! Behind him, over the bows, we see the clear outline of +a small berg--an outflung 'calf' of the main ice! There is no time! +Nothing can be done! Small as the berg is--not the height of our lower +yards--it has weight enough to sink us, when aided by the heaving swell! + +"Quick with th' boat, there," yells the Old Man! He runs over to the +companion-way and dives below, jostling the Second Mate, who is +staggering up under a weight of biscuit bags. + +In a moment we have closed with the ice and are hammering and grinding +at the sheer glistening wall. At the first impact the boom goes with a +crash! Then fore-to'gallant mast--yards--sails--rigging--all hurtling +to the head, driving the decks in! A shelf of solid ice, tons weight +of it, crashes aboard and shatters the fore-hatch! Now there is a +grind and scream of buckling iron, as the beams give to the +strain--ring of stays and guy-ropes, parting at high tension--crash of +splintering wood! The heaving monster draws off, reels, and comes at +us again! Another blow and---- + +"'Vast lowering! Hold on! Hold on the boat there!" The Old Man, come +on deck with his treasured papers, has seen more than the wreck of the +head! He runs to the compass--a look--then casts his eyes aloft. +"Square mainyards!" His voice has the old confident ring: the ring we +know. "Square main yards! ... A hand t' th' wheel!" + +Doubting, we hang around the boat. She swings clear, all ready! The +jar of a further blow sets us staggering for foothold! What chance? +... "A hand t' th' wheel, here," roars the Old Man. Martin looks up +... goes back to his post. + +A man at the wheel again! No longer the fearful sight of the main post +deserted; no longer the jar and rattle of a handless helm! Martin's +action steadies us. What dread, when the oldest of us all stands there +grasping the spokes, waiting the order? ... We leave the swinging +boat and hurry to the braces! + +A 'chance' has come! The power of gales long since blown out is +working a way for us: the ghostly descendants of towering Cape Horn +'greybeards' have come to our aid! + +As we struck, sidling on the bows, the swell has swept our stern round +the berg. Now we are head to wind and the big foresail is flat against +the mast, straining sternward! + +It is broad day, and we see the 'calf' plainly as we drift under +stern-way apart. The gap widens! A foot--a yard--an oar's-length! +Now the wind stirs the canvas on the main--a clew lifts--the tops'ls +rustle and blow out, drawing finely! Her head still swings! + +"Foreyards! Le'go an' haul!" roars the Old Man. We are stern on to +the main ice. Already the swell--recurving from the sheer base--is +hissing and breaking about us. There is little room for sternboard. +"Le'go an' haul!" We roar a heartening chorus as we drag the standing +head yards in. + +Slowly she brings up ... gathers way ... moves ahead! The 'calf' is +dead to windward, the loom of the main ice astern and a-lee. The wind +has strengthened: in parts the mist has cleared. Out to the south'ard +a lift shows clear water. We are broad to the swell now, but sailing +free as Martin keeps her off! From under the bows the broken boom +(still tethered to us by stout guy-ropes) thunders and jars as we move +through the water. + +"Cut and clear away!" roars Old Jock. "Let her go!" + +Aye, let her go! ... We are off ... crippled an' all ... out for open +sea again! + + + + +XIX + +IN LITTLE 'SCOTLAND' + +It was to no purpose that Lloyds' agent pointed out the convenience and +advantage of the inner port: it was as useless for the local pilot to +look grave and recall dire happenings to Captains who had elected to +effect their repairs in the outer harbour--just here, at Port William. +Old Jock's square jaw was set firm, his eyes were narrowed to a crafty +leer; he looked on everyone with unconcealed suspicion and distrust. +He was a shipmaster of the old school, 'looking after his Owners' +interest.' He had put in 'in distress' to effect repairs.... He was +being called upon to spend _money_! + +"No, no!" he said to all their reasoning. "My anchor's doon, an' here +I stoap! I've conseedered a' that ye've pit furrit! 'Convenience tae +th' toon, if supplies are needit'? (I'll no' need that mony!) ... 'Nae +distance tae bring th' workin' gang'? (I've a wheen men here mysel'!) +... 'Nae dues tae pay'? (We're jist as cheap here!) ... No, no, +Maister Fordyce! Ye can jist mak' up yeer mind on that! We'll dae a' +th' repairs oot here! I'm no' comin' in!" + +"Oh weel! Jist as ye like, Captain! Jist as ye like! ... But--as +th' pilot here 'll tell ye--ye're in a verra bad poseetion if it comes +on tae blow f'ae the south-east! An' south-east 's a hard win', I'm +tellin' ye!" + +"Aye, aye! Jist that! ... Weel, if it comes tae blow frae th' +south-east (I'm no much feart o' that at this time o' th' year) we're +in a guid berth tae slip anchor an' run her in tae Port Stanley. It'll +be time enough then! But I'm no' goin' in there if I can help it! ... +If I brocht her in therr"--pointing to the narrows that led to the +inner harbour--"I micht hae tae wait for a fair win' tae bring her oot, +when oor bit damage is sortit.... No, no! We'll dae fine oot here. +Smooth watter! Guid holdin' ground!" + +"Oh, the holding ground is all right," said the pilot. "Eight fathom +... mud and stones! Good enough for anything but south or southeast." + +"Oh, aye!" continued the Old Man. "We'll dae fine here.... If it +wisna' for that bowsprit bein' steeved up and th' rivets stertit in th' +bows o' her, I widna' be here at a'.... Spars? ... We can mak' a' +th' spars oorsel's; tho' I'm no' sayin' but that I'd be glad o' a spar +or twa--at a moderate cost. A moderate cost, mind ye!" + +The agent laughed. "Oh weel, Captain! We're no' exactly Jews doon +here, though they say an Aberdonian (I'm fa'e Aberdeen mysel') is th' +next thing! We can gi'e ye yeer spaurs--at a moderate cost! ... But +I'll tell ye again, Captain, ye'll lose time by stoappin' oot here. A' +this traffiking back an' furrit tae Port Stanley! Bringin' th' workmen +aff in th' mornin', an' takin' them hame at e'en! Ye'll no' get th' +smiths tae stey oan th' ship. It'll be, 'Hey, Jimmy! Whaur's ma lang +drift?' or, 'Jock, did ye bring oot th' big "Monday?"' ... an' then +naethin' 'll dae but they maun be awa' back tae th' Port, tae look for +theer tools in th' bar o' th' Stanley Airms!" + +"Oh, aye!" said the Old Man. "I ken them! They'll be as keen for a +dram doon here as onywhere! But we'll attend tae that. As for th' +traffiking, I've a big boat an' a wheen idle lauds therr that'll be +nane the waur o' a lang pull! ... Onyway, I'm no' goin' t' risk bein' +held up for a fair win' when th' time comes ... an' ye may tak' it that +we're no' goin' t' lose time owre th' joab! A wheen smiths, an' mebbe +a carpenter or twa, is a' I want ... an' if we can arrange wi' th' +Captain o' this schooner--ye were speakin' aboot--t' tak' a hunner' or +a hunner' an' fifty ton o' cargo ... for th' time bein'.... No! Jist +twa beams tae be cut an' strappit.... A screw-jack an' a forge or twa! +We can ... straighten them oot in their place! ... Naethin' wrang +below th' sheer strake! ... Jist plain rivettin'...." + +Talking of the repairs and their relation to the great god of Economy, +Old Jock led the way to the gangway and watched his visitors depart. + +In all he said the Old Man spoke his 'braidest' Scotch. This was +right! We had reached the Falkland Islands in safety, and what more +natural than that he should speak the language of the country? Even +the German saloon-keepers who had boarded us on arrival--to proffer +assistance in our distress--said 'aye' for yes, and 'Ach! Awa' wi' +ye'--a jocular negative! Nor did the resemblance to our 'ain countree' +end there. Port William was typical of a misty Scotch countryside: the +land about us was as bleak and home-like as a muirland in the Stewartry. + +A bare hill-side sloping to the sea, with here and there straggling +acres of cultivated land. A few wooden houses nestling in the bends +and gullies, where small streamlets ran. Uplands, bare of trees and +hedge growth, stretching away inland in a smooth coat of waving grass. +Grass, grass, grass--a sheep fank--a patch of stony hill-side--a +solitary hut, with blue smoke curling above--a misty sky-line--lowering +clouds, and the setting sun breaking through in fleeting patches. Port +William! A quiet place for anchorage after our stormy times! No ships +riding with us under the lee of the land! No sign of human life or +movement in the lonely bay! No noise! Quiet! Only the plaintive +cries of sea-birds that circled and wheeled about us, and the distant +_baa-ing_ of sheep on the green hill-side! + + * * * * * + +'No time was to be lost,' as the Old Man had said. Soon the quiet of +our lonely anchorage was broken by a din of strenuous work. The +sea-birds flew affrighted from the clang of fore-hammers and the roar +of forge fires. + +Our damage was all on the bows. The to'gallan'mast, in its fall, had +wrecked the starboard side of the fo'cas'le; the decks were smashed in; +some beams were broken, others were twisted and bent. The hull plating +had not escaped, and a big rent showed where the grinding ice had +forced the stout cat-head from its solid bed. These were minor +affairs--something might have been done to put them right without +coming to port--but the bowsprit! Ah! It was the bowsprit that had +brought us in! + +"It's no use talking," the Old Man had said when he and the Mate were +considering the damage. "That bowsprit! ... Spars? ... We could +make th' spars good; ... an' we could do a fair joab wi' th' ironwork! +... But th' bowsprit! ... No, no! We can't sail th' ship unless +we're sure o' th' head-gear! ... No use! No use talking, Mister! +We'll have t' bear up for th' Falklands, and get that put to rights!" + +If further cause were needed to justify the serious course of 'putting +in,' they had it when the carpenter reported water in the forepeak; and +it was discovered that the broken jibboom had not hammered at the bows +for nothing. No hesitation then! No talk! The course was set! + +Although the Falklands are famed as a refuge for vessels 'in distress,' +there was then no great facilities for repair. It is enough if the +ships stagger into port in time to save the lives of their crews. Port +Stanley had many such sheer hulks lying to rust and decay in the +landlocked harbour. Good ships that had cleared from the Channel in +seaworthiness; crossed the Line with a boastful "_All well!_" to a +homeward-bounder; steered south into the 'roaring forties'--to meet +disaster in fire, or wind, or sea, and falter into the Falklands with +the boats swung out! + +There was then no firm of ship repairers on the Islands. The most Mr. +Fordyce could do for us was to find workmen, and a schooner to take +part of our cargo and lighten us sufficiently to get at the leaky +rivets. Old Jock had to set up as a master shipwright and superintend +the repairs himself. And who better? Had he not set Houston's leg as +straight as a Gilmorehill Professor could? He was the man; and there +was no sign of hesitation when he got out his piece of chalk and made +marks (as many and as mysterious as a Clydeside gaffer's) on the +damaged ironwork! Such skilled labour as he could get--'smiths' from +the sheep camps (handy men, who were by turns stonemasons or +woolpackers or ironworkers)--were no great hands at ship-work; but the +Old Man, with his rough, chalked sketches, could make things plain; he +had, too, the great advantage of knowing the Islanders' language and +its proper application to the ordering of 'wis'like' men! What might +have been put elsewhere as, "What th' hell sort of work do you call +this?" he translated to, "Man, man, Jock Steel! Could ye no' pit a +fairer bend oan that knee?" ... Jock (who would have thrown down his +tools, and "on with his jacket" at the first) would perhaps turn red at +the kindlier reproof, mutter "Well, well," and have another try at the +stubborn knee. + +It was slow work, for all the din and clatter. Forge fires are +devilish in the hands of an unskilled blower; rivets break and twist +and get chilled when the striking is squint and irregular; iron is +tough and stubborn when leverage is misapplied. There were +difficulties. (Difficulties that wee Jonny Docherty, a Partick rivet +'b'ye,' would have laughed at!) The difficulty of strapping cut beams +to make them span their former length; the difficulty of small rivets +and big holes, of small holes and big rivets ... the sheer despair when +sworn measurements go unaccountably and mysteriously wrong in practice. + +All difficulties! Difficulties to be met and overcome! + +Every one of us had a turn at the ironwork. There was odd work that we +could do while the 'smiths' were heating and hammering at the more +important sections. We made a feeble show, most of us; but Joe Granger +gained honour in suggesting ways and showing how things were done. It +was the time of Granger's life. He was not even a good sailorman. His +steering was pitiful. Didn't Jones have to show him how the royal +buntlines led? What did Martin say about the way he passed a +head-earring? A poor sailorman! ... Yet here he was: bossing us +around; Able Seamen carrying tools to him; Old Man listening quite +decently to his suggestions--even the hard-case Mate (who knew Granger, +if anyone did) not above passing a word now and then! ... And all +because Granger had worked in the Union Ironworks at 'Frisco. At first +I am sure it was a _holder-on_ he told us he had been, but before our +job had gone far it was a whilom _foreman shipwright_ who told us what +was to be done! ... If Armstrong, the carpenter, had not taken up a +firm stand when it came to putting in the deck, there would have been +hints that we had a former _under-manager_ among us! It was the time +of Joe's life, and the bo'sun could only chuckle and grin and wag his +head in anticipation of 'proper sailor-work' on the mast and spars. + +It was good for us brassbounders to lie at Port William, where there +was little but the work in progress to interest us. In the half-deck +we were full of ship repairs. Little else was talked about when we +were below. Each of us carried a small piece of chalk, all ready to +make rough drawings to explain our ideas. We chalked on the walls, the +table, the deck, the sea-chests, lines and cross-lines, and bends and +knees--no matter what, so long as there were plenty of round "O's" to +show where the rivets were to go. We explained to one another the +mysteries of ship construction, talked loftily of breasthooks and sheer +strakes, and stringers and scantlings ... and were as wise after the +telling! That was while the ironwork repairs were in progress. In a +week or more we were spar-makers. Jock Steel and his mates put down +their drifts and hammers, and took up adzes and jack-planes. We were +getting on! We had no time for anyone who drew sketches of riveting. +It was 'striking cambers' and 'fairing' and 'tapering' now, and Joe +Granger got a cool reception when he came along to the half-deck after +work was over for the day. Poor Joe had fallen from his high place! +With the bowsprit hove down and securely strapped and riveted, and the +last caulking blow dealt at the leaky doubling, his services became of +small account. No one in the fo'cas'le would listen any longer to his +tales of structural efficiency. There was no spar-making in the Union +Ironworks at 'Frisco. Joe had to shut up, and let Martin and the +bo'sun instruct the ship's company in the art of masting and +rigging--illustrated by match-sticks and pipe-stems! + +There were pleasant intervals to our work on board--days when we rowed +the big boat through the Narrows to Port Stanley and idled about the +'town,' while the Old Man and Mr. Fordyce were transacting business +(under good conditions) in the bar-parlour of the Stanley Arms. We +made many friends on these excursions. The Falklanders have warm +hearts, and down there the Doric is the famous passport. We were +welcome everywhere, though Munro and I had to do most of the talking. +It was something for the Islanders to learn how the northern Scottish +crops had fared (eighteen months ago), or 'whatna'' catch of herrings +fell to the Loch Fyne boats (last season but one). + +There was no great commercial activity in the 'town.' The '_Great +Britian_' hulk, storehouse for the wool, was light and high in the +water. The sawmill hulks were idle for want of lumber to be dressed. +It was the slack time, they told us; the slack time before the rush of +the wool-shearing. In a week, or a month at the most, the sheep would +be ready for the shears. Then--ah, then!--Wully Ramsey (who had a head +for figures) would be brought forward, and, while his wind held out, +would hurl figures and figures at us, all proving that 'Little +Scotland,' for its size, was a 'ferr wunner' at wool production. + +The work of the moment was mostly at breaking up the wreck of the +_Glenisla_, a fine four-masted barque that had come in 'with the flames +as high as th' foreyard,' and had been abandoned as a total wreck. Her +burnt-out shell lay beached in the harbour, and the plates were being +drifted out, piece by piece, to make sheep tanks and bridge work. It +was here that the Old Man--'at a moderate cost, mind ye'--picked up a +shell-plate and knees and boom irons to make good our wants. A spar, +too (charred, but sound), that we tested by all the canons of +carpentry--tasting, smelling, twanging a steel at one end and listening +for the true, sound note at the other. It was ours, after hard +bargaining, and Mason, the foreman wrecker, looked ill-pleased with his +price when we rolled the timber down to tide mark, launched, and towed +it away. + +Pleasant times! But with the setting up of the new boom the Old Man +was anxious to get under weigh. The to'gallant mast could wait till +the fine weather of the 'trades.' We were sound and seaworthy again! +Outside the winds were fair and southerly. We had no excuse to lie +swinging at single anchor. Jock Steel and his mates got their +blessing, our 'lawin'' was paid and acquitted, and on a clear November +morning we shook out the topsails and left Port William to the circling +sea-birds. + + + + +XX + +UNDER THE FLAG + +A black, threatening sky, with heavy banks of indigo-tinted clouds +massed about the sea-line. A sickly, greenish light high up in the +zenith. Elsewhere the gloom of warring elements broken only by flashes +of sheet lightning, vivid but noiseless. The sea, rolling up from the +sou'-west in a long glassy swell, was ruffled here and there by the +checks of a fitful breeze. It needed not a deadly low barometer to +tell us of a coming storm; we saw it in the tiers of hard-edged +fearsome clouds, breaking up and re-forming, bank upon bank, in endless +figurations. Some opposing force was keeping the wind in check; there +was conflict up there, for, though masses of detached cloud were +breaking away and racing o'er the zenith, we held but a fitful gusty +breeze, and our barque, under low sail, was lurching uneasily for want +of a steadying wind. + +It was a morning of ill-omen, and the darkling sky but reflected the +gloom of our faces; our thoughts were in keeping with the day, for we +had lost a shipmate, one among us was gone, Old Martin was dead. + +He died sometime in the middle watch, no one knew when. He was awake +when the watch came below at midnight, for Welsh John had given him +matches for his pipe before turning in. That was the last, for when +they were called at four, Martin was cold and quiet. There was no +trouble on his face, no sign of pain or suffering. Belike the old man +had put his pipe aside, and finding no shipmate awake to 'pass the +word,' had gently claimed his Pilot. + +There was no great show of grief when it was known. Perhaps a bit +catch in the voice when speaking of it, an unusual gentleness in our +manner towards one another, but no resemblance of mourning, no shadow +of woe. His was no young life untimely ended, there was no accident to +be discussed, no blame to be apportioned. It was just that old lamp +had flickered out at last. Ours was a sense of loss, we had lost a +shipmate. There would be another empty bunk in the fo'cas'le, a hand +less at the halyards, a name passed over at muster; we would miss the +voice of experience that carried so much weight in our affairs--an +influence was gone. + +At daybreak we stood around to have a last look at the strong old face +we had known so long. The sailmaker was sewing him up in the clew of +an old topsail, a sailorly shroud that Martin would have chosen. The +office was done gently and soberly, as a shipmate has a right to +expect. A few pieces of old chain were put in to weight him down, all +ship-shape and sailor-fashion, and when it was done we laid him out on +the main hatch with the Flag he had served cast over him. + +"There goes a good sailorman," said one of the crowd; "'e knowed 'is +work," said another. + +"A good sailorman--'e knowed 'is work!" That was Martin's +epitaph--more, he would not want. + +His was no long illness. A chill had settled into bronchitis. Martin +had ever a fine disregard for weatherly precautions; he had to live up +to the name of a 'hard case.' Fits of coughing and a high temperature +came on him, and he was ordered below. At first he was taken aft to a +spare room, but the unaccustomed luxury of the cabin so told on him +that when he begged to be put in the fo'cas'le again, the Old Man let +him go. There he seemed to get better. He had his shipmates to talk +to; he was even in a position to rebuke the voice of youth and +inexperience when occasion required, though with but a shadow of his +former vehemence. Though he knew it would hurt him, he would smoke his +pipe; it seemed to afford him a measure of relief. The Old Man did +what he could for him, and spent more time in the fo'cas'le than most +masters would have done. Not much could be done, for a ship is +ill-fitted for an ailing man. At times there were relapses; times when +his breathing would become laboured. Sometimes he became delirious and +raved of old ships, and storms, and sails, then he would recover, and +even seemed to get better. Then came the end. The tough old frame +could no longer stand the strain, and he passed off quietly in the +silence of middle night. + +He was an old man, none knew how old. The kindly clerks in the +shipping office had copied from one discharge note to the other when +'signing him on,' and he stood at fifty-eight on our articles; at +sixty, he would never have got a 'sight.' He talked of old ships long +since vanished from the face of the waters; if he had served on these +he must have been over seventy years. Sometimes, but only to favoured +shipmates, he would tell of his service aboard a Yankee cruiser when +Fort Sumter fell, but he took greater pride in having been bo'sun of +the famous _Sovereign of the Seas_. + +"Three hundred an' seventy miles," he would say; "that wos 'er day's +travellin'! That's wot Ah calls sailin' a ship. None o' yer damn +'clew up an' clew down,' but give 'er th' ruddy canvas an'--let 'er go, +boys!" + +He was of the old type, bred in a hard sea-school. One of his boasts +was that he had sailed for five years in packet ships, 'an' never saw +th' pay table.' He would 'sign on' at Liverpool, giving his +boarding-master a month's advance note for quittance. At New York he +would desert, and after a bout ashore would sail for Liverpool in a new +ship. There was a reason for this seeming foolish way of doing. + +"None o' yer slavin' at harbour jobs an' cargo work; not fer me, me +sons! Ah wos a sailorman an' did only sailorin' jobs. Them wos th' +days w'en sailormen wos men, an' no ruddy cargo-wrastlin', coal-diggin' +scallywags, wot they be now!" + +A great upholder of the rights of the fo'cas'le, he looked on the Mates +as his natural enemies, and though he did his work, and did it well, he +never let pass an opportunity of trying a Mate's temper by outspoken +criticism of the Officers' way of handling ship or sail. Apprentices +he bore with, though he was always suspicious of a cabin influence. + +That was Martin, our gallantly truculent, overbearing Old Martin; and, +as we looked on the motionless figure outlined by folds of the Flag, we +thought with regret of the time we took a pleasure in rousing him to a +burst of sailorly invective. Whistling about the decks, or flying past +him in the rigging with a great shaking of the shrouds when the 'crowd' +was laying aloft to hand sail. "Come on, old 'has-been'!" Jones once +shouted to him as he clambered over the futtock shrouds. Martin was +furious. + +"Has-been," he shouted in reply. "Aye, mebbe a 'has-been,' but w'en ye +comes to my time o' life, young cock, ye can call yerself a +'never-bloody-wos'!" + +Well! His watch was up, and when the black, ragged clouds broke away +from the sou'-west and roused the sea against us, we would be one less +to face it, and he would have rest till the great call of 'all hands'; +rest below the heaving water that had borne him so long. + + * * * * * + +Surely there is nothing more solemn than a burial at sea. Ashore there +are familiar landmarks, the nearness of the haunts of men, the +neighbourly headstones, the great company of the dead, to take from the +loneliness of the grave. Here was nothing but a heaving ship on the +immensity of mid-ocean, an open gangway, a figure shrouded in folds of +a Flag, and a small knot of bare-headed men, bent and swaying to meet +the lurches of the vessel, grouped about the simple bier. The wind had +increased and there was an ominous harping among the backstays. The +ship was heaving unsteadily, and it was with difficulty we could keep a +balance on the wet, sloping deck. Overhead the sky was black with the +wrack of hurrying clouds, and the sullen grey water around us was +already white-topped by the bite of freshening wind. + +"I am th' Resurrection an' the Life, saith th' Loard"--Martin, laid on +a slanted hatch, was ready for the road, and we were mustered around +the open gangway. The Old Man was reading the service in his homely +Doric, and it lost nothing of beauty or dignity in the +translation--"an' whosoever liveth an' believeth in me sall never die." +He paused and glanced anxiously to windward. There was a deadly check +in the wind, and rain had commenced to fall in large, heavy drops. "A +hand t' th' tops'l halyards, Mister," quietly, then continuing, "I know +that my Redeemer liveth, an' that He sail stand at th' latter day upon +th' airth. An' though ... yet in my flesh sail I see Goad...." +Overhead, the sails were thrashing back and fore, for want of the +breeze--still fell the rain, lashing heavily now on us and on the +shrouded figure, face up, that heeded it not. + +Hurriedly the Old Man continued the service--"Foreasmuch as it hath +pleased Almighty Goad of his gre--at merrcy t' take unto Himself th' +so-al of oor de-ar brother, here departed, we therefore commit he's +boady t' th' deep ... when th' sea sall give up her daid, an' th' life +of th' worl-d t' come, through oor Loard, Jesus Christ." + +At a sign, the Second Mate tilted the hatch, the two youngest boys held +the Flag, and Martin, slipping from its folds, took the water feet +first in a sullen, almost noiseless, plunge. + +"Oor Father which airt in heaven"--with bent head the Old Man finished +the service. He was plainly ill at ease. He felt that the weather was +'making' on him, that the absence from the post of command (the narrow +space between wheel and binnacle) was ill-timed. Still, his sense of +duty made him read the service to a finish, and it was with evident +relief he closed the book, saying, "Amen! Haul th' mains'l up, Mister, +an' stand by t' square mainyards! ... Keep th' watch on deck; it's +'all hands'--thon," pointing to the black murk spreading swiftly over +the weather sky. + +We dragged the wet and heavy mains'l to the yard and stood by, waiting +for the wind. Fitful gusts came, driving the rain in savage, searching +bursts; then would come a deadly lull, and the rain beating on us, +straight from above--a pitiless downpour. It was bitter cold, we were +drenched and depressed as we stood shivering at the braces, and we +wished for the wind to come, to get it over; anything would be better +than this inaction. + +A gust came out of the sou'-west, and we had but squared the yards when +we heard the sound of a master wind on the water. + +Shrieking with fury long withheld, the squall was upon us. We felt the +ship stagger to the first of the blast; a furious plunge and she was +off--smoking through the white-lashed sea, feather-driven before the +gale. It could not last; no fabric would stand to such a race. "Lower +away tops'l halyards!" yelled the Old Man, his voice scarce audible in +the shrilling of the squall. The bo'sun, at the halyards, had but +started the yard when the sheet parted; instant, the sail was in +ribbons, thrashing savagely adown the wind. It was the test for the +weakest link, and the squall had found it, but our spars were safe to +us, and, eased of the press, we ran still swiftly on. We set about +securing the gear, and in action we gave little thought to the event +that had marked our day; but there was that in the shriek of wind in +the rigging, in the crash of sundered seas under the bows, in the cries +of men at the downhauls and the thundering of the torn canvas that sang +fitting Requiem for the passing of our aged mariner. + + + + +XXI + +DOLDRUMS + +"Lee fore-brace!" + +Mister M'Kellar stepped from the poop and cast off the brace coils with +an air of impatience. It wanted but half an hour of 'knocking off +time'--and that half-hour would be time enough, for his watch to finish +the scraping of the deck-house--but the wind waits on no man, and +already the weather clew of the mainsail was lifting lazily to a shift. +It was hard to give up the prospect of having the house all finished +and ship-shape before the Mate came on deck (and then trimming yards +and sail after the _work_ was done); but here was the wind working +light into the eastward, and the sails nearly aback, and any minute +might bring the Old Man on deck to inquire, with vehemence, "What the +---- somebody was doing with the ship?" There was nothing else for it; +the house would have to stand. + +"_T--'tt_, lee-fore-brace, the watch there!" Buckets and scrapers were +thrown aside, the watch mustered at the braces, and the yards were +swung slowly forward, the sails lifting to a faint head air. + +This was the last of the south-east trades, a clean-running breeze that +had carried us up from 20 deg. S., and brace and sheet blocks, rudely +awakened from their three weeks' rest, creaked a long-drawn protest to +the failing wind; ropes, dry with disuse, ran stiffly over the sheaves, +and the cries of the men at the braces added the human note to a chorus +of ship sounds that marked the end of steady sailing weather. + +"_He--o--ro_, round 'm in, me sons; +_ho--io--io_--lay-back-an'-get-yer-muscle-up-fer ghostin' through th' +doldrums!" Roused by the song (broad hints and deep-sea pleasantries) +of the chanteyman, the Old Man came on deck, and paced slowly up and +down the poop, whistling softly for wind, and glancing expectantly +around the horizon. Whistle as he might, there was no wisp of stirring +cloud, no ruffling of the water, to meet his gaze, and already the sea +was glassing over, deserted by the wind. Soon what airs there were +died away, leaving us flat becalmed, all signs of movement vanished +from the face of the ocean, and we lay, mirrored sharply in the +windless, silent sea, under the broad glare of an equatorial sun. + +For a space of time we were condemned to a seaman's purgatory; we had +entered the 'doldrums,' that strip of baffling weather that lies +between the trade winds. We would have some days of calm and heavy +rains, sudden squalls and shifting winds, and a fierce overhead sun; +and through it all there would be hard labour for our crew (weak and +short-handed as we were), incessant hauling of the heavy yards, and +trimming of sail. Night or day, every faint breath of wind a-stirring, +every shadow on the water, must find our sail in trim for but a flutter +of the canvas that would move us on; any course with north in it would +serve. "Drive her or drift her," by hard work only could we hope to +win into the steady trade winds again, into the gallant sailing weather +when you touch neither brace nor sheet from sunset to sunrise. + +Overhead the sails hung straight from the head-ropes, with not even a +flutter to send a welcome draught to the sweltering deck below. +Everywhere was a smell of blistering paint and molten pitch, for the +sun, all day blazing on our iron sides, had heated the hull like a +furnace wall. Time and again we sluiced the decks, but still pitch +oozed from the gaping seams to blister our naked feet, and the moisture +dried from the scorched planking almost as quickly as we could draw the +water. We waited for relief at sundown, and hoped for a tropical +downpour to put us to rights. + +Far to the horizon the sea spread out in a glassy stillness, broken +only by an occasional movement among the fish. A widening ring would +mark a rise--followed by the quick, affrighted flutter of a shoal of +flying fish; then the dolphin, darting in eager pursuit, the sun's rays +striking on their glistening sides at each leap and flurry. A few +sharp seconds of glorious action, then silence, and the level sea +stretching out unbroken to the track of the westing sun. + +Gasping for a breath of cooler air, we watched the sun go down, but +there was no sign of wind, no promise of movement in the faint, vapoury +cirrhus that attended his setting. + + * * * * * + +Ten days of calms (blazing sun or a torrent of rain) and a few faint +airs in the night time--and we had gained but a hundred miles. 'Our +smart passage,' that we had hoped for when winds were fair and fresh, +was out of question; but deep-sea philosophy has a counter for every +occasion, and when the wind headed us or failed, someone among us would +surely say, "Well, wot's th' odds, anyway? More bloomin' days, more +bloomin' dollars, ain't it?" Small comfort this to the Old Man, who +was now in the vilest of tempers, and spent his days in cursing the +idle steersman, and his nights in quarrelling with the Mates about the +trim. If the yards were sharp up, it would be, "What are ye thinkin' +about, Mister? Get these yards braced in, an' look damn smart about +it!" If they were squared, nothing would do but they must be braced +forward, where the sails hung straight down, motionless, as before. +Everything and everybody was wrong, and the empty grog bottles went +'_plomp_' out of the stern ports with unusual frequency. When we were +outward bound, the baffling winds that we met off Cape Horn found him +calm enough; they were to be expected in that quarter, and in the stir +and action of working the ship in high winds, he could forget any +vexation he might have felt; but this was different, there was the +delay at the Falklands, and here was a further check to the passage--a +hundred miles in ten days--provisions running short, grass a foot long +on the counter, and still no sign of wind. There would be no +congratulatory letter from the owners at the end of this voyage, no +kindly commending phrase that means so much to a shipmaster. Instead +it would be, "We are at a loss to understand why you have not made a +more expeditious passage, considering that the _Elsinora_, which +sailed," etc., etc. It is always a fair wind in Bothwell Street! It +was maddening to think of. "Ten miles a day!" Old Jock stamped up and +down the poop, snarling at all and sundry. To the steersman it was, +"Blast ye, what are ye lookin' round for? Keep yer eye on th' royals, +you!" The Mates fared but little better. "Here, Mister," he would +shout; "what's th' crowd idlin' about for? Can't ye find no work t' +do? D'ye want me t' come and roust them around? It isn't much use o' +me keepin' a dog, an' havin' t' bark myself!" + +It was a trying time. If the Old Man 'roughed' the Mates, the Mates +'roughed' us, and rough it was. All hands were 'on the raw,' and +matters looked ugly between the men and Officers, and who knows what +would have happened, had not the eleventh day brought the wind. + +It came in the middle watch, a gentle air, that lifted the canvas and +set the reef points drumming and dancing at each welcome flutter, and +all our truculence and ill-temper vanished with the foam bubbles that +rose under our moving fore-foot. + +The night had fallen dark and windless as any, and the first watch held +a record for hauling yards and changing sheets. "'Ere ye are, boys," +was the call at eight bells. "Out ye comes, an' swigs them b----y +yards round; windmill tatties, an' th' Old Man 'owlin' like a dancin' +---- dervish on th' lid!" The Old Man had been at the bottle, and was +more than usually quarrelsome; two men were sent from the wheel for +daring to spit over the quarter, and M'Kellar was on a verge of tears +at some coarse-worded aspersion on his seamanship. The middle watch +began ill. When the wind came we thought it the usual fluke that would +last but a minute or two, and then, "mains'l up, an' square mainyards, +ye idle hounds!" But no, three bells, four bells, five, the wind still +held, the water was ruffling up to windward, the ship leaning +handsomely; there was the welcome heave of a swell running under. + +So the watch passed. There were no more angry words from the poop. +Instead, the Old Man paced to and fro, rubbing his hands, in high good +humour, and calling the steersman "m' lad" when he had occasion to con +the vessel. After seeing that every foot of canvas was drawing, he +went below, and the Second Mate took his place on the weather side, +thought things over, and concluded that Old Jock wasn't such a bad +sort, after all. We lay about the decks, awaiting further orders. +None came, and we could talk of winds and passages, or lie flat on our +backs staring up at the gently swaying trucks, watching the soft clouds +racing over the zenith; there would be a spanking breeze by daylight. +A bell was struck forward in the darkness, and the 'look-out' chanted a +long "Awl--'s well!" + +All was, indeed, well; we had picked up the north-east trades. + + + + +XXII + +ON SUNDAY + +Sunday is the day when ships are sailed in fine style. On week days, +when the round of work goes on, a baggy topsail or an ill-trimmed yard +may stand till sundown, till the _work_ be done, but Sunday is sacred +to keen sailing; a day of grace, when every rope must be a-taut-o, and +the lifts tended, and the Mates strut the weather poop, thinking at +every turn of suitable manoeuvres and sail drill that will keep the +sailormen from wearying on this, their Day of Rest. + +On a fine Sunday afternoon we lay at ease awaiting the Mate's next +discovery in the field of progress. She was doing well, six knots or +seven, every stitch of sail set and drawing to a steady wind. From +under the bows came the pleasing _thrussh_ of the broken water, from +aloft the creak of block and cordage and the sound of wind against the +canvas. For over an hour we had been sweating at sheets and halyards, +the customary Sunday afternoon service, and if the _Florence_, of +Glasgow, wasn't doing her best it was no fault of ours. + +Now it was, "That'll do, the watch!" and we were each following our +Sunday beat. + +Spectacled and serious, 'Sails' was spelling out the advertisements on +a back page of an old _Home Notes_; the two Dutchmen were following his +words with attentive interest. The Dagos, after the manner of their +kind, were polishing up their knives, and the 'white men' were brushing +and airing their 'longshore togs,' in readiness for a day that the +gallant breeze was bringing nearer. A scene of peaceful idling. + +"As shair's daith, he's gotten his e'e on that fore-tops'l sheet. Ah +telt ye; Ah telt ye!" Houston was looking aft. "Spit oan yer hauns, +lauds! He's seen it. We're gaun tae ha'e anither bit prayer for th' +owners!" + +The Mate had come off the poop, and was standing amidships staring +steadily aloft. + +"Keep 'oor eyes off that tops'l sheet, I tell 'oo," said Welsh John +angrily. "He can't see it unless he comes forra'd; if he sees 'oo +lookin', it's forra'd he'll be, soon, indeed!" + +There were perhaps a couple of links of slack in the tops'l sheet, a +small matter, but quite enough to call for the watch tackle--on a +Sunday. The crisis passed; it was a small matter on the main that had +called him down, and soon a 'prentice boy was mounting the rigging with +ropeyarns in his hand, to tell the buntlines what he thought of +them--and of the Mate. + +Bo'sun Hicks was finishing off a pair of 'shackles,' sailor handles for +Munro's sea-chest--a simple bit of recreation for a Sunday afternoon. +They were elaborate affairs of four stranded 'turks-heads' and double +rose knots, and showed several distinct varieties of 'coach whipping.' +One that was finished was being passed round an admiring circle of +shipmates, and Hicks, working at the other, was feigning a great +indifference to their criticisms of his work. + +"Di--zy, Di--zy, gimme yer awnswer, do," he sang with feeling, as he +twisted the pliant yarns. + +"Mind ye, 'm not sayin' as them ain't fine shackles"--Granger was ever +the one to strike a jarring note--"As fine a shackles as ever I see; +but there was a Dutchman, wot I was shipmates with in th' +_Ruddy-mantus_, o' London, as _could_ turn 'em out! Wire 'earts, 'e +made 'em, an' stuffin', an' made up o' round sinnet an' dimon' +'itchin'! Prime! W'y! Look a here! If ye was t' see one ov 'is +shackles on th' hend ov a chest--all painted up an' smooth like--ye +couldn't 'elp a liftin' ov it, jest t' try th' grip; an' it 'ud come +nat'ral t' th' 'and, jes' like a good knife. Them wos shackles as 'e +made, an'----" + +"Ho, yus! Shackles, wos they? An' them ain't no shackles wot 'm +a-finishin' of? No bloomin' fear! Them's garters f'r bally dancers, +ain't they? Or nose rings for Sullimans, or ----, or ----. 'Ere!" +Hicks threw aside the unfinished shackle and advanced threateningly on +his critic. + +"'Ere! 'Oo th' 'ell are ye gettin' at, anywye? D'ye siy as I cawn't +make as good a shackles as any bloomin' Dutchman wot ever said _yaw_ +f'r yes? An' yer _Ruddy-mantus_, o' London? I knows yer +_Ruddy-bloomin-mantus_, o' London! Never 'ad a sailorman acrost 'er +fo'cas'le door! Men wot knowed their work wouldn't sail in 'er, +anyhow, an' w'en she tided out at Gravesen', all th' stiffs out o' th' +'ard-up boardin'-'ouses wos windin' 'er bloomin' keeleg up! +_Ruddymantus_? 'Er wot 'ad a bow like the side o' 'n 'ouse--comin' up +th' Mersey Channel a-shovin' th' sea afore 'er, an' makin' 'igh water +at Liverpool two hours afore th' Halmanack! That's yer _Ruddy-mantus_! +An' wot th' 'ell d'you know 'bout sailorizin', anywye? Yer never wos +in a proper ship till ye come 'ere, on a dead 'un's discharge, an' ye +couldn't put dimon' 'itchin' on a broom 'andle, if it wos t' get ye a +pension!" + +Here was a break to our peaceful Sunday afternoon; nothing short of a +round or two could set matters fair after such an insult to a man's +last ship! + +Someone tried to pacify the indignant bo'sun. + +"'Ere, bo'sun! Wot's about it if 'e did know a blanky Dutchman wot +made shackles? Them o' yourn's good enough. I don't see nuthin' th' +matter wi' them!" + +"No--no! A-course ye don't, 'cos ye'r like that b----y Granger there, +ye knows damn all 'bout sailorizin' anywye! Didn't ye 'ear 'im say as +I couldn't make shackles?" + +A chorus of denials, a babel of confused explanation. + +"A-course 'e did," shouted the maker of shackles. "'E sed as I didn't +know 'ow t' work round sennit an' dimon' 'itchin', as I wos never in a +proper ship afore, as 'e knowed a bloomin' Dutchman wot could make +better shackles nor me; sed as 'ow my shackles worn't fit f'r a +grip----" + +"'Ere! 'Ere!! bo'sun--I never sed nuthin' ov th' kind!" The +unfortunate Granger was bowing to the blast. "Wot I sed wos, 'ow them +was good shackles; as fine a shackles as ever I see--an' I wos only +tellin' my mates 'ere 'bout a Dutchman wot was in th' _Ruddymanthus_ +along o' me as could make 'em as smooth to the 'and----" + +"An' wot's the matter wi' them?" Hicks picked up the discarded shackle +and threw it at Granger, striking him smartly on the chest. "Ain't +them smooth enough for yer lubberly 'an's, ye long-eared son of a----" + +"_Fore-tops'l sheet, the watch there!!_" + +The Mate had seen the slack links and the row in progress at the same +moment. The order came in time; strife was averted. + +Three sulky pulls at a tackle on the sheets, a tightening of the +braces, then: "That'll do, the watch there! Coil down and put away the +tackle!" Again the gathering at the fore-hatch. Hicks picked up his +work and resumed the twisting of the yarns. + +A great knocking out and refilling of pipes. + +"'Bout that 'ere Dutchman, Granger? 'Im wot ye wos shipmates with." + +Granger glanced covertly at the bo'sun. There was no sign of further +hostilities; he was working the yarns with a great show of industry, +and was whistling dolefully the while. + +"Well, 'e worn't a proper Dutchman, neither," he began pleasantly; "'im +bein' married on a white woman in Cardiff, wot 'ad a shop in Bute Road. +See? Th' Ole Man o' th' _Ruddymanthus_, 'e wos a terror on +sailorizin'----" Granger paused. + +Again a squint at the bo'sun. There was no sign, save that the +whistling had ceased, and the lips had taken a scornful turn. "'E wos +a terror on sailorizin', an' w'en we left Sydney f'r London, 'e said as +'ow 'e'd give two pun' fer th' best pair o' shackles wot 'is men could +make. There worn't many o' us as wor 'ands at shackles, an' there wor +only th' Dutchman an' a white man in it--a Cockney 'e wos, name o' +Linnet----" + +The bo'sun was staring steadily at the speaker, who added hastily, "'an +a damn good feller 'e wos, too, one o' th' best I ever wos shipmates +with; 'e wos a prime sailorman--there worn't many as could teach 'im +anythin'----" + +Bo'sun had resumed work, and was again whistling. + +"It lay a-tween 'im an' this 'ere Dutchman. All the w'yage they wos at +it. They wos in diff'rent watches, an' th' other fellers wos allus +a-settin' 'em up. It would be, ''Ere, Dutchy, you min' yer eye. +Linnet, 'e's got a new turn o' threads jes' below th' rose knots'; or, +'Look-a-here, Linnet, me son, that Dutchman's puttin' in glossy beads, +an' 'e's waxin' 'is ends wi' stuff wot th' stooard giv' 'im.' The +watches wos takin' sides. 'Linnet's th' man,' says th' Mate's watch. +'Dutchy, he's th' fine 'and at sailorizin',' says th' starbowlines. +Worn't takin' no sides meself"--a side glance at the bo'sun--"me bein' +'andy man along o' th' carpenter, an' workin' all day." + +The bo'sun put away his unfinished work, and, lighting his pipe--a sign +of satisfaction--drew nearer to the group. + +"Off th' Western Islands they finished their jobs," continued Granger +(confidently, now that the bo'sun had lit a pipe and was listening as a +shipmate ought). "They painted 'em, an' 'ung 'em up t' dry. Fine they +looked, dark green, an' th' rose knots all w'ite. Dutchy's shackles +wos werry narrer; worn't made f'r a sailorman's 'and at all, but 'e +knowed wot e' wos a-doin' of, for th' Ole Man wos one o' them dandy +blokes wot sails out o' London; 'an's like a lidye's 'e 'ad, an' w'en +they takes their shackles aft, 'e cottons t' Dutchy's at onest. 'Now, +them's wot I calls shackles, Johnson, me man,' sez 'e. 'Jest fits me +'and like a glove,' 'e sez, 'oldin' ov 'em up, an' lettin' 'em fall +back an' forrard acrost 'is wrist. 'Linnet's is too broad,' 'e sez. +'Good work, hexellint work,' 'e sez, 'but too broad for th' 'ands.' +Linnet, 'e sed as 'ow 'e made shackles for sailormen's 'ands; sed 'e +didn't 'old wi' Captains 'andlin' their own sea-chests, but it worn't +no use--Dutchy got th' two quid, an' th' stooard got cramp ov 'is 'ands +hevery time 'e took out th' Ole Man's chest ov a mornin'. An' th' Mate +giv' Linnet five bob an' an ole pair o' sea-boots f'r 'is pair, an' +cheap they wos, for Linnet, 'e wos a man wot knowed 'is work." + +"A Mate's th' best judge ov a sailorman's work, anywye," said the +bo'sun pleasantly. + +"'Im? 'E wor a good judge, too," said the wily Granger. "'E said as +'ow Linnet's wos out-an-out th' best pair. I knowed they wos, for them +Dutchmen ain't so 'andy at double rose knots as a white man!" + +"No! Sure they ain't!" + + + + +XXIII + +A LANDFALL + +In the dark of the morning a dense fog had closed around us, shutting +in our horizon when we had most need of a clear outlook. We had +expected to sight the Lizard before dawn to pick up a Falmouth pilot at +noon, to be anchored in the Roads by nightfall--we had it all planned +out, even to the man who was to stand the first anchor-watch--and now, +before the friendly gleam of the Lizard Lights had reached us, was +fog--damp, chilling, dispiriting, a pall of white, clammy vapour that +no cunning of seamanship could avail against. + +Denser it grew, that deep, terrifying wall that shut us off, shipmate +from shipmate. Overhead, only the black shadow of the lower sails +loomed up; forward, the ship was shrouded ghostly, unreal. Trailing +wreaths of vapour passed before and about the side-lamps, throwing back +their glare in mockery of the useless rays. All sense of distance was +taken from us: familiar deck fittings assumed huge, grotesque +proportions; the blurred and shadowy outlines of listening men about +the decks seemed magnified and unreal. Sound, too, was distorted by +the inconstant sea-fog; a whisper might carry far, a whole-voiced hail +be but dimly heard. + +Lifting lazily over the long swell, under easy canvas, we sailed, +unseeing and unseen. Now and on, the hand fog-trumpet rasped out a +signal of our sailing, a faint, half-stifled note to pit against the +deep reverberation of a liner's siren that seemed, at every blast, to +be drawing nearer and nearer. + +The Old Man was on the poop, anxiously peering into the void, though +keenest eyes could serve no purpose. Bare-headed, that he might the +better hear, he stepped from rail to rail--listening, sniffing, +striving, with every other sense acute, to work through the fog-banks +that had robbed him of his sight. We were in evil case. A dense fog +in Channel, full in the track of shipping--a weak wind for working +ship. Small wonder that every whisper, every creak of block or parrel, +caused him to jump to the compass--a steering order all but spoken. + +"Where d'ye mark that, now?" he cried, as again the liner's siren +sounded out. + +"Where d'ye mark ... d'ye mark ... mark?" The word was passed forward +from mouth to mouth, in voices faint and muffled. + +"About four points on th' port bow, Sir!" The cry sounded far and +distant, like a hail from a passing ship, though the Mate was but +shouting from the bows. + +"Aye, aye! Stan' by t' hand that foresheet! Keep the foghorn goin'!" + +"... Foresheet ... 'sheet ... th' fog'orn ... goin'!" The invisible +choir on the main-deck repeated the orders. + +Again the deep bellow from the steamer, now perilously close--the +futile rasp of our horn in answer. + +Suddenly an alarmed cry: "O Chris'! She's into us! ... The bell, +you! The bell! ..." A loud clanging of the forward bell, a united +shout from our crew, patter of feet as they run aft, the Mate shouting: +"Down hellum, Sir--down hellum, f'r God's sake!" + +"Hard down helm! Le' go foresheet!" answered to the Mate's cry, the +Old Man himself wrenching desperately at the spokes of the wheel. +Sharp ring of a metal sheave, hiss of a running rope, clank and throb +of engines, thrashing of sails coming hard to the mast, shouts! + +Out of the mist a huge shadowy hull ranges alongside, the wash from her +sheering cutwater hissing and spluttering on our broadside. + +Three quick, furious blasts of a siren, unintelligible shouts from the +steamer's bridge, a churning of propellers; foam; a waft of black +smoke--then silence, the white, clammy veil again about us, and only +the muffled throb of the liner's reversed engines and the uneasy lurch +of our barque, now all aback, to tell of a tragedy averted. + +"Oh! The murderin' ruffians! The b----y sojers!" The crisis over, +the Old Man was beside himself with rage and indignation. "Full speed +through weather like this! Blast ye!" he yelled, hollowing his hands. +"What--ship--is--that?" + +No answer came out of the fog. The throb of engines died away in a +steady rhythm; they would be on their course again, 'slowed down,' +perhaps, to twelve knots, now that the nerves of the officer of the +watch had been shaken. + +Slowly our barque was turned on heel, the yards trimmed to her former +course, and we moved on, piercing the clammy barrier that lay between +us and a landfall. + +"Well, young fellers? Wha' d'ye think o' that now?" Bo'sun was the +first of us to regain composure. "Goin' dead slow, worn't 'e? 'Bout +fifteen, I sh'd siy! That's the wye wi' them mail-boat fellers: +Monday, five 'undred mile; Toosd'y, four-ninety-nine; We'n'sd'y, +four-ninety-height 'n 'arf--'slowed on haccount o' fog'--that's wot +they puts it in 'er bloomin' log, blarst 'em!" + +"Silence, there--main-deck!" The Old Man was pacing across the break +of the poop, pausing to listen for sound of moving craft. + +Bo'sun Hicks, though silenced, had yet a further lesson for us +youngsters, who might one day be handling twenty-knot liners in such a +fog. In the ghostly light of fog and breaking day he performed an +uncanny pantomime, presenting a liner's officer, resplendent in collar +and cuff, strutting, mincing, on a steamer's bridge. (Sailormen walk +fore and aft; steamboat men, athwart.) + +"Haw!" he seemed to say, though never a word passed his lips. "Haw! +Them wind-jammers--ain't got no proper fog'orns. Couldn't 'ear 'em at +th' back o' a moskiter-net! An' if we cawn't 'ear 'em, 'ow do we know +they're there, haw! So we bumps 'em, an' serve 'em dem well right, +haw!" + +It was extraordinary! Here was a man who, a few minutes before, might, +with all of us, have been struggling for his life! + +Dawn broke and lightened the mist about us, but the pall hung thick as +ever over the water. At times we could hear the distant note of a +steamer's whistle; once we marked a sailing vessel, by sound of her +horn, as she worked slowly across our bows, giving the three mournful +wails of a running ship. Now and again we cast the lead, and it was +something to see the Channel bottom--grains of sand, broken +shell-pebbles--brought up on the arming. Fog or no fog, we were, at +least, dunting the 'blue pigeon' on English ground, and we felt, as day +wore on and the fog thinned and turned to mist and rain, that a +landfall was not yet beyond hope. + +A change of weather was coming, a change that neither the Old Man nor +the Mate liked, to judge by their frequent visits to the barometers. +At noon the wind hauled into the sou'-west and freshened, white tops +curled out of the mist and broke in a splutter of foam under the +quarter, Channel gulls came screaming and circling high o'er our +heads--a sure sign of windy weather. A gale was in the making; a +rushing westerly gale, to clear the Channel and blow the fog-rack +inland. + +"I don't like the looks o' this, Mister." The Old Man was growing +anxious; we had seen nothing, had heard nothing to make us confident of +our reckoning. "That aneroid's dropped a tenth since I tapped it last, +an' th' mercurial's like it had no bottom! There's wind behind this, +sure; and if we see naught before 'four bells,' I'm goin' out t' look +for sea-room. Channel fogs, an' sou'-westers, an' fifteen-knot liners +in charge o' b----y lunatics! Gad! there's no room in th' English +Channel now for square sail, an' when ye----" + +"Sail O! On the port bow, Sir!" Keen, homeward-bound eyes had sighted +a smudge on the near horizon. + +"Looks like a fisherman," said the Mate, screwing at his glasses. +"He's standing out." + +"Well, we'll haul up t' him, anyway," answered the Old Man. "Starboard +a point--mebbe he can give us the bearin' o' th' Lizard." + +Bearing up, we were soon within hailing distance. She was a Cardiff +pilot cutter; C.F. and a number, painted black on her mains'l, showed +us that. As we drew on she hoisted the red and white of a pilot on +station. + +"The barque--ahoy! Where--are--'oo--bound?" A cheering hail that +brought all hands to the rails, to stare with interest at the +oilskin-clad figures of the pilot's crew. + +"Falmouth--for orders!" + +"Ah!"--a disappointed note--"'oo are standin' too far t' th' west'ard, +Capt'in. I saw the Falmouth cutter under th' land, indeed, before the +fog came down. Nor'-by-east--that'll fetch 'm!" + +"Thank 'ee! How does the Lizard bear?" + +"'Bout nor'-nor'-west, nine mile, I sh'd say. Stand +in--as--far--as--thirty-five--fathoms--no less!" The pilot's Channel +voice carried far. + +"Thank Heaven! That's definite, anyway," said the Old Man, turning to +wave a hand towards the cutter, now fast merging into the mist astern. +"Nor'-nor'-west, nine mile," he said. "That last sight of ours was a +long way out. A good job I held by th' lead. Keep 'er as she's goin', +Mister; I'll away down an' lay her off on th' chart--nor'-nor'-west, +nine mile," he kept repeating as he went below, fearing a momentary +forgetfulness. + +In streaks and patches the mist was clearing before the westering wind. +To seaward we saw our neighbours of the fog setting on their ways. Few +were standing out to sea, and that, and the sight of a fleet of +fishermen running in to their ports, showed that no ordinary weather +lay behind the fast-driving fog-wreaths. North of us heavy masses of +vapour, banked by the breeze, showed where the land lay, but no +land-mark, no feature of coast or headland, stood clear of the mist to +guide us. Cautiously, bringing up to cast the lead at frequent +intervals, we stood inshore, and darkness, falling early, found us +a-lee of the land with the misty glare of the Lizard lights broad on +our beam. Here we 'hove-to' to await a pilot--"Thirty-five fathoms, no +less," the Welshman had advised--and the frequent glare of our +blue-light signals showed the Old Man's impatience to be on his way +again to Falmouth and shelter. + +Eight we burnt, guttering to their sockets, before we saw an answering +flare, and held away to meet the pilot. A league or so steady running, +and then--to the wind again, the lights of a big cutter rising and +falling in the sea-way, close a-lee. + +"What--ship?" Not Stentor himself could have bettered the speaker's +hail. + +"The _Florence_, of Glasgow: 'Frisco t' Channel. Have ye got my +orders?" + +A moment of suspense. Hull, it might be, or the Continent: the answer +might set us off to sea again. + +"No--not now! (We're right--for Falmouth.) We had 'm a fortnight +agone, but they'm called in since. A long passage, surely, Captain?" + +"Aye! A hundred an' thirty-two days--not countin' three week at th' +Falklan's, under repair. ... Collision with ice in fifty-five, south! +... No proper trades either; an' 'doldrums'! ... A long passage, +Pilot!" + +"Well, well! You'm be goin' on t' Falmouth, I reckon--stan' by t' put +a line in my boat!" A dinghy put off from the cutter; a frail +cockle-shell, lurching and diving in the short Channel sea, and soon +our pilot was astride the rail, greeting us, as one sure of a welcome. + +"You'm jest in time, Capten. It's goin' t' blow, I tell 'ee--(Mainyard +forrard, Mister Mate!)--an' a West-countryman's allowance, for sure!" +He rubbed his sea-scarred hands together, beamed jovially, as though a +'West-countryman's allowance' were pleasant fare.... "Th' glass +started fallin' here about two--(Well--the mainyard!--a bit more o' th' +lower tawps'l-brace, Mister!)--two o'clock yesterday afternoon--(How's +the compass, Capten? Half a point! Keep 'er nor'-east b' nor', when +she comes to it, m' lad!)--an' it's been droppin' steady ever since. +Lot o' craft put in for shelter sin'--(Check in th' foreyards now, will +'ee?)--since th' marnin', an' the Carrick Roads 'll be like West India +Dock on a wet Friday. A good job the fog's lifted. Gad! we had it +thick this marnin'. We boarded a barque off th' Dodman.... Thought he +was south o' th' Lizard, he did, an' was steerin' nor'-east t' make +Falmouth! A good job we sighted 'im, or he'd a bin--(Well--th' +foreyard, Mister!)--hard upon th' Bizzie's Shoal, I reckon." + +The look-out reported a light ahead. + +"'St. Ant'ny's, Capten," said our pilot. "Will 'ee give 'er th' main +to'galns'l, an' we'll be gettin' on?" + + + + +XXIV + +FALMOUTH FOR ORDERS + +High dawn broke on a scene of storm, on the waters of Falmouth Bay, +white-lashed and curling, on great ragged storm-clouds racing +feather-edged over the downs and wooded slopes that environ the fairest +harbour of all England. + +To us, so long habited to the lone outlook of sea and sky, the scene +held much of interest, and, from the first grey break of morning, our +eyes went a-roving over the windy prospect, seeing incident and novelty +at every turn. In the great Bay, many ships lay anchored, head to +wind, at straining cables. Laden ships with trim spars and rigging, +red-rusty of hull, and lifting at every scend to the rough sea, the +foul green underbody of long voyaging; tall clippers, clean and freshly +painted without, but showing, in disorder of gear and rigging, the mark +of the hastily equipped outward bound coasters, steam and sail, +plunging and fretting at short anchor or riding to the swell in +sheltered creeks; lumbermen, with high deck loads bleached and whitened +by wind and salt-spume of a winter passage; drifters and pilot +cruisers, sea trawlers, banksmen--a gathering of many craft that the +great west wind had turned to seek a shelter. + +Riding with the fleet, we lay to double anchor. Overhead the high wind +whistled eerily through spar and cordage--a furious blast that now and +then caught up a crest of the broken harbour sea and flung the icy +spray among us. Frequent squalls came down--rude bursts of wind and +driving sleet that set the face of the harbour white-streaked under the +lash, and shut out the near land in a shroud of wind-blown spindrift. +To seaward, in the clearings, we could see the hurtling outer seas, +turned from the sou'-west, shattering in a high column of broken water +at the base of St. Anthony's firm headland. We were well out of that, +with good Cornish land our bulwark. + +Ahead of us lay Falmouth town, dim and misty under the stormy sky. A +'sailor-town,' indeed, for the grey stone houses, clustered in +irregular masses, extended far along the water front--on the beach, +almost, as though the townsfolk held only to business with tide and +tide-load, and had set their houses at high-water mark for greater +convenience. In spite of the high wind and rough sea, a fleet of shore +boats were setting out toward the anchorage. Needs a master wind, in +truth, to keep the Falmouth quay-punts at their moorings when +homeward-bound ships lie anchored in the Roads, whose lean, ragged +sailormen have money to spend! + +Under close-reefed rags of straining canvas, they came at us, lurching +heavily in the broken seaway, and casting the spray mast-high from +their threshing bows. To most of them our barque was the sailing mark. +Shooting up in the wind's eye with a great rattle of blocks and _slatt_ +of wet canvas, they laid us aboard. There followed a scene of spirited +action. A confusion of wildly swaying masts and jarring +broadsides--shouts and curses, protest and insult; fending, pushing, +sails and rigging entangled in our out-gear. Struggling to a foothold, +where any offered on our rusty topsides, the boatmen clambered aboard, +and the Captain was quickly surrounded by a clamorous crowd, extending +cards and testimonials, and loudly praying for the high honour of +'sarving' the homeward bound. + +"Capten! I sarved 'ee when 'ee wos mate o' th' _Orion_! Do 'ee mind +Pengelly--Jan Pengelly, Capten!"--"Boots, Capten? Damme, if them a'nt +boots o' my makin', 'ee 're a-wearin' nah!"--"... can dew 'ee cheaper +'n any man on th' Strand, Capten!"--"Trevethick's th' man, Capten! +Fort--(_th' 'ell 'ee shovin' at?_)--Forty year in Falmouth, Capten!" + +Old Jock was not to be hurried in his bestowal of custom. From one he +took a proffered cigar; from another a box of matches. Lighting up, he +seated himself on the skylight settee. + +"Aye, aye! Man, but ye're the grand talkers," he said. + +The crowd renewed their clamour, making bids and offers one against the +other. + +"Come down t' th' cabin, one of ye," said the Old Man, leading the way. +A purposeful West-countryman, brushing the crowd aside, followed close +at heel. The others stood around, discussing the prospect of business. + +"Scotch barque, a'n't she?" said one. "Not much to be made o' them +Scotch Captens! Eh, Pengelly, 'ee knows? Wot about th' Capten o' th' +_Newtonend_, wot 'ee sarved last autumn?" + +The man addressed looked angrily away, the others laughed: a sore point! + +"Paid 'ee wi' tawps'l sheets, didn't 'e?" said another. "A fair wind, +an' him bound West! _Tchutt_! 'ee must 'a bin sleepin' sound when th' +wind come away, Pengelly, m' son!" + +Pengelly swore softly. + +"Don't 'ee mind un, Jan, m' boy?" added a third. "Mebbe th' Capten 'll +send 'ee 'Spanish notes' when 'e arrives out--Santa Rosalia, worn't it?" + +A bustle at the companionway put a stop to the chaff, the purposeful +man having come on deck, glum of countenance. + +"You'm struck a right 'hard case,' boys," he said. "Twenty per cent +ain't in it--an' I'm off. So long!" + +One by one the tradesmen had their interview, and returned to deck to +talk together, with a half laugh, of Scotch 'Jews' and hard bargains. +Hard bargains being better than no business, the contracts were taken +up, the crowd dispersed, and we were soon in a position to order our +longshore togs and table luxuries--at prices that suggested that +someone was warming his boots at our fire. + +With Jan Pengelly we bargained for foodstuffs. It was something of a +task to get comfortably aboard his 'bumboat,' heaving and tossing as +she was in the short sea. In the little cabin, securely battened and +tarpaulined against the drenching sprays that swept over the boat, he +kept his stock--a stock of everything that a homeward-bounder could +possibly require; but his silk scarves and velvet slippers, +silver-mounted pipes and sweet tobacco hats, held no attraction for us: +it was food we sought--something to satisfy the hunger of five months' +voyaging on scant rations--and at that we kept Jan busy, handing out +and taking a careful tally of our purchases. + +On deck there was little work for us to do. Little could be done, for, +as the day wore on to a stormy setting, wind and sea increased, forcing +even the hardy boatmen to cast off and run to a sheltered creek at St. +Mawes. The icy, biting spray, scattered at every plunge of our +ground-fast barque, left no corner of the deck unsearched, and, after a +half-hearted attempt to keep us going, the Mate was forced to order +'stand by.' In half-deck and fo'cas'le we gathered round the red-hot +bogies, and talked happily of the voyage's end, of the pay-table, of +resolves to stop there when we had come ashore. + +Then came the night, at anchor-watch. Tramping for a brief hour, two +together, sounding, to mark that she did not drive a-lee; listening to +the crash of seas, the harping of the rigging, to the _thrap, thrap_ of +wind-jarred halliards; struggling to the rigging at times, to put +alight an ill-burning riding lamp; watching the town lights glimmer +awhile, then vanish as quick succeeding squalls of snow enwrapped the +Bay. A brief spell of duty, not ill-passed, that made the warmth of +the half-deck and the red glow of the bogie fire more grateful to +return to. + +As day broke the gale was at its height. Out of a bleak and +threatening west the wind blew ominously true--a whole gale, +accompanied by a heavy fall of snow. There could be no boat +communication with the shore in such a wind, but, as soon as the light +allowed, we engaged the Signal Station with a string of flags, and +learnt that our orders had not yet come to hand, that they would be +communicated by signal, if received during the day. + +After we had re-stowed sails and secured such gear and tackle as had +blown adrift in the night, 'stand by' was again the order, reluctantly +given, and all hands took advantage of the rare circumstance of spare +time and a free pump to set our clothes cleanly and in order. + +Near noon the Mate spied fluttering wisps of colour rising on the +signal yard ashore. Steadying himself in a sheltered corner, he read +the hoist: W.Q.H.L.--our number. + +"Aft here, you boys, an' hand flags," he shouted. Never was order more +willingly obeyed; we wanted to know. + +The news went round that our orders had come. With bared arms, +dripping of soapsuds, the hands came aft, uncalled, and the Mate was +too busy with telescope and signal-book to notice (and rebuke) the +general muster of expectant mariners. + +As our pennant was run up, the hoist ashore was hauled down, to be +replaced by a new. The Mate read out the flags, singly and distinct, +and turned to the pages of the signal-book. + +"'You--are--ordered--to--proceed--to'--Answering pennant up, lively +now; damme, I can't rest you boys a minute, but ye run to seed an' +sodgerin'!" + +A moment of suspense; to proceed to--where? The Old Man was on deck +now, with code-book in hand, open at the 'geographicals.' +"'B--D--S--T,'" sang out the Mate. "B.D.S.T.," repeated the Old Man, +whetting a thumb and turning the pages rapidly. "B.D.S.T., +B.D.S--Sligo! Sligo, where's that, anyway?" + +"North of Ireland, sir," said M'Kellar. "Somewhere east of Broadhaven. +I wass in there once, mysel'." + +"Of course, of course! Sligo, eh? Well, well! I never heard of a +square-rigger discharging there--must see about th' charts. Ask them +to repeat, Mister, and make sure." + +Our query brought the same flags to the yard. B.D.S.T.--Sligo, without +a doubt--followed by a message, "Letters will be sent off as soon as +weather moderates." + +There was a general sense of disappointment when our destination was +known; Ireland had never even been suggested as a possible finish to +our voyage. Another injustice! + +As the afternoon wore on, the wind lessened and hauled into the north. +The bleak storm-clouds softened in outline, and broke apart to show us +promise of better weather in glimpses of clear blue behind. Quickly, +as it had got up, the harbour sea fell away. The white curling crests +no longer uprose, to be caught up and scattered afar in blinding +spindrift. Wind, their fickle master, had proved them false, and now +sought, in blowing from a new airt, to quell the tumult he had bidden +rise. + +With a prospect of letters--of word from home--we kept an eager +look-out for shore-craft putting out, and when our messenger arrived +after a long beat, the boat warp was curled into his hand and the side +ladder rattled to his feet before he had time to hail the deck. With +him came a coasting pilot seeking employ, a voluble Welshman, who did +not leave us a minute in ignorance of the fact that "he knew th' coast, +indeed, ass well ass he knew Car--narvon!" + +Then to our letters. How we read and re-read, and turned them back and +forward, scanning even the post-mark for further news! + + * * * * * + +Early astir, we had the lee anchor at the bows before dawn broke. A +bright, clear frosty morning, a cloudless sky of deepest blue, the land +around wrapped in a mantle of snow--a scene of tranquillity in sea and +sky, in marked contrast to the bitter weather of the day before. At +the anchorage all was haste and stirring action. A gentle breeze from +the north was blowing--a 'soldier's' wind that set fair to east and +west, and the wind-bound ships were hurrying to get their anchors and +be off, to make the most of it. A swift pilot cutter, sailing tack and +tack through the anchorage, was serving pilots on the outward bound, +and as each was boarded in turn, the merry _clank-clank_ of windlass +pawls broke out, and the chorus of an anchor chantey woke the echoes of +the Bay. Quay punts passed to and fro from ship to shore, lurching, +deep-laden with stores, or sailing light to reap the harvest that the +west wind had blown them. Among them came Jan Pengelly (anxious that +payment 'by tops'l sheets' did not again occur with him), and the Welsh +coasting pilot who was to sail with us. + +The weather anchor was strong bedded and loth to come home, and it was +as the last of the fleet that we hoisted our number and ran out between +Pendennis and the Head. The Old Man was in high good humour that he +had no towing bills to settle, and walked the poop, rubbing his hands +and whistling a doleful encouragement to the chill north wind. + +Safely past the dread Manacles, the Falmouth pilot left us. We crowded +sail on her, steering free, and dark found us in open channel, leaning +to a steady breeze, and the Lizard lights dipping in the wake astern. + + + + +XXV + +"T' WIND'ARD!" + +For over a week of strong westerly gales we had kept the open sea, +steering to the north as best the wind allowed. A lull had come--a +break in the furious succession, though still the sea ran high--and the +Old Man, in part satisfied that he had made his northing, put the helm +up and squared away for the land. In this he was largely prompted by +the coasting pilot (sick of a long, unprofitable, passage--on a +'lump-sum' basis), who confidently asked to be shown but one speck of +Irish land, and, "I'll tell 'oo the road t' Dub-lin, Capt'in!" + +Moderately clear at first, but thickening later, as we closed the land, +it was not the weather for running in on a dangerous coast, ill-lighted +and unmarked, but, had we waited for clear weather, we might have +marked time to the westward until the roses came; the wind was fair, we +were over-long on our voyage; sheet and brace and wind in squared sail +thrummed a homeward song for us as we came in from the west. + +At close of a day of keen sailing, the outposts of the Irish coast, +bleak, barren, inhospitable, lay under our lee--a few bold rocks, +around and above wreathed in sea-mist, and the never-dying Atlantic +swell breaking heavily at base. + +"Iss, indeed, Capt'in! The Stags! The Stags of Broad-haven, I tell +'oo," said the pilot, scanning through his glasses with an easy +assurance. "Indeed to goodness, it iss the best landfall I haf ever +seen, Capt'in!" + +Though pleased with his navigation, the Old Man kept his head. "Aye, +aye," he said. "The Stags, eh? Well, we'll haul up t' th' wind +anyway--t' make sure!" He gave the order, and went below to his charts. + +Rolling heavily, broad to the sea and swell, we lay awhile. There was +no sign of the weather clearing, no lift in the grey mist that hung +dense over the rugged coast-line. On deck again, the Old Man stared +long and earnestly at the rocky islets, seeking a further guidemark. +In the waning daylight they were fast losing shape and colour. Only +the breaking sea, white and sightly, marked them bold in the grey +mist-laden breath of the Atlantic. "----'present themselves, +consisting of four high rocky islets of from two thirty-three to three +ought-six feet in height, an' steep-to,'" he said, reading from a book +of sailing directions. "Damme! I can only see three." To the pilot, +"D'ye know the Stags well, Mister? Are ye sure o' ye're ground?" + +"_Wel, wel_! Indeed, Capt'in" (Mr. Williams laughed). "I know the +Stags, yess! Ass well ass I know Car-narvon! The Stags of +Broad-haven, I tell 'oo. When I wass master of the _Ann Pritchard_, of +Beaumaris, it wass always to the West of Ireland we would be goin'. +Summer and winter, three years, I tell 'oo, before I came to +pilotin'--an' there iss not many places between the Hull and Missen +Head that I haf not seen in daylight an' dark. It iss the Stags, +indeed! East, south-east now, Capt'in, an' a fine run to Sligo Bar!" + +Still unassured, the Old Man turned his glasses on the rocky group. +"One--two--three--perhaps that was the fourth just open to the +south'ard"--they certainly tallied with the description in the +book--"high, steep-to." A cast of the lead brought no decision. +Forty-seven! He might be ten miles north and south by that and former +soundings. It was rapidly growing dark, the wind freshening. If he +did not set course by the rocks--Stags they seemed to be--he would lose +all benefit of landfall--would spend another week or more to the +westward, waiting for a rare slant on this coast of mist and foul +weather! Already eighteen days from Falmouth! The chance of running +in was tempting! Hesitating, uncertain, he took a step or two up and +down the poop, halting at turns to stare anxiously at the rocks, in the +wind's eye, at the great Atlantic combers welling up and lifting the +barque to leeward at every rise. On the skylight sat Mr. Williams, +smiling and clucking in his beard that "he did not know the Stags, +indeed!" + +"We haul off, Pilot," said stout Old Jock, coming at a decision. "If +it had been daylight ... perhaps ... but I'm for takin' no risks. They +may be th' Stags, belike they are, but I'm no' goin' oan in weather +like this! We'll stand out t' th' norrard--'mainyards forrard, +Mister'--till daylight onyway!" + +Sulkily we hauled the yards forward and trimmed sail, leaving the rocks +to fade under curtain of advancing night, our high hopes of making port +dismissed. The 'navigators' among us were loud of their growling, as +the ship lurched and wallowed in the trough of the sea, the decks +waist-high with a wash of icy water--a change from the steadiness and +comfort of a running ship. + +Night fell black dark. The moon not risen to set a boundary to sea and +sky; no play of high light on the waste of heaving water; naught but +the long inky ridges, rolling out of the west, that, lifting giddily to +crest, sent us reeling into the windless trough. On the poop the Old +Man and Pilot tramped fore and aft, talking together of landfalls and +coasting affairs. As they came and went, snatches of their talk were +borne to us, the watch on deck--sheltering from the weather at the +break. The Old Man's "Aye, ayes," and "Goad, man's," and the voluble +Welshman's "iss, indeed, Capt'in," and "I tell 'oo's." The Pilot was +laying off a former course of action. "... Mister Williams, he said, I +can see that 'oo knows th' coast, he said, an' ... I 'oodn't go in +myself, he said; but if 'oo are sure----" + +"_Brea--kers a-head!_"--a stunning period to his tale, came in a long +shout, a scream almost, from the look-out! + +Both sprang to the lee rigging, handing their eyes to shield the wind +and spray. Faint as yet against the sombre monotone of sea and sky, a +long line of breaking water leapt to their gaze, then vanished, as the +staggering barque drove to the trough; again--again; there could be no +doubt. Breakers! On a lee shore!! + +"_Mawdredd an'l_! O Christ! The Stags, Capt'in.... My God! My God!" +Wholly unmanned, muttering in Welsh and English, Mr. Williams ran to +the compass to take bearings. + +Old Jock came out of the rigging. Then, in a steady voice, more +ominous than a string of oaths, "Luff! Down helm, m' lad, an' keep her +close!" And to the pilot, "Well? What d'ye mak' of it, Mister?" + +"Stags, Capt'in! _Diwedd i_! That I should be mistake.... The others +... God knows! ... If it iss th' Stags, Capt'in ... the passage t' +th' suth'ard.... I know it ... we can run ... if it iss th' Stags, +Capt'in!" + +"An' if it's no' th' Stags! M' Goad! Hoo many Stags d'ye know, +Mister? No! No! We'll keep th' sea, if she can weather thae rocks +... an' if she canna!!" A mute gesture--then, passionately, "T' hell +wi' you an' yer b----y Stags: I back ma ship against a worthless pilot! +All hands, there, Mister--mains'l an' to'galn's'l oan her! Up, ye +hounds; up, if ye look fur dry berryin'!" + +All hands! No need for a call! "Breakers ahead"--the words that sent +us racing to the yards, to out knife and whip at the gaskets that held +our saving power in leash. Quickly done, the great mainsail blew out, +thrashing furiously till steadied by tack and sheet. Then topgal'n' +sail, the spars buckling to overstrain; staysail, spanker--never was +canvas crowded on a ship at such a pace; a mighty fear at our hearts +that only frenzied action could allay. + +Shuddering, she lay down to it, the lee rail entirely awash, the decks +canted at a fearsome angle; then righted--a swift, vicious lurch, and +her head sweeping wildly to windward till checked by the heaving +helmsman. The wind that we had thought moderate when running before it +now held at half a gale. To that she might have stood weatherly, but +the great western swell--spawn of uncounted gales--was matched against +her, rolling up to check the windward snatches and sending her reeling +to leeward in a smother of foam and broken water. + +A gallant fight! At the weather gangway stood Old Jock, legs apart and +sturdy, talking to his ship. + +"Stand, good spars," he would say, casting longing eyes aloft. Or, +patting the taffrail with his great sailor hands, "Up tae it, ye bitch! +Up!! Up!!!" as, raising her head, streaming in cascade from a +sail-pressed plunge, she turned to meet the next great wall of water +that set against her. "She'll stand it, Mister," to the Mate at his +side. "She'll stand it, an' the head gear holds. If she starts +that!"--he turned his palms out--"If she starts th' head gear, Mister!" + +"They'll hold, Sir! ... good gear," answered the Mate, hugging himself +at thought of the new lanyards, the stout Europe gammon lashings, he +had rove off when the boom was rigged. Now was the time when Sanny +Armstrong's spars would be put to the test. The relic of the ill-fated +_Glenisla_, now a shapely to'gallant mast, was bending like a whip! +"Good iron," he shouted as the backstays twanged a high note of utmost +stress. + +Struggling across the heaving deck, the Pilot joined the group. +Brokenly, shouting down the wind, "She'll never do it, Capt'in, I tell +'oo! ... An' th' tide.... Try th' south passage.... Stags, sure! ... +See them fair now! ... Th' south passage, Capt'in.... It iss some +years, indeed, but ... I know. _Diwedd an'l_! She'll never weather +it, Capt'in!" + +"Aye ... and weather it ... an' the gear holds! Goad, man! Are ye +sailor enough t' know what'll happen if Ah start a brace, wi' this +press o' sail oan her? T' wind'ard ... she goes. Ne'er failed me +yet"--a mute caress of the stout taffrail, a slap of his great hand. +"Into it, ye bitch! T' wind'ard! T' wind'ard!" + +Staggering, taking the shock and onset of the relentless seas, but ever +turning the haughty face of her anew to seek the wind, she struggled +on, nearing the cruel rocks and their curtain of hurtling breakers. +Timely, the moon rose, herself invisible, but shedding a diffused light +in the east, showing the high summits of the rocks, upreared above the +blinding spindrift. A low moaning boom broke on our strained ears, +turning to the hoarse roar of tortured waters as we drew on. + +"How does 't bear noo, M'Kellar? Is she makin' oan't?" shouted the Old +Man. + +The Second Mate, at the binnacle, sighted across the wildly swinging +compass card. "No' sure, Sir. ... Th' caird swingin' ... think +there's hauf a p'int.... Hauf a p'int, onyway!" + +"Half a point!" A great comber upreared and struck a deep resounding +blow--"That for yeer half a point"--as her head swung wildly off--off, +till the stout spanker, the windward driver, straining at the stern +sheets, drove her anew to a seaward course. + +Nearer, but a mile off, the rocks plain in a shaft of breaking +moonlight. + +"How now, M'Kellar?" + +"Nae change, Sir! ... 'bout east, nor'-east ... deefecult ... th' caird +swingin'...." + +The Old Man left his post and struggled to the binnacle. "East, +nor'-east ... east o' that, mebbe," he muttered. Then, to 'Dutchy,' at +the weather helm, "Full, m' lad! Keep 'er full an' nae mair! Goad, +man! Steer as ye never steered ... th' wind's yer mairk.... Goad! +D'na shake her!" + +Grasping the binnacle to steady himself against the wild lurches of the +staggering hull, the Old Man stared steadily aloft, unheeding the roar +and crash of the breakers, now loud over all--eyes only for the +straining canvas and standing spars above him. + +"She's drawin' ahead, Sir," shouted M'Kellar, tense, excited. "East, +b' nor' ... an' fast!" + +The Old Man raised a warning hand to the steersman. "Nae higher! Nae +higher! Goad, man! Dinna let 'r gripe!" + +Dread suspense! Would she clear? A narrow lane of open water lay +clear of the bow--broadening as we sped on. + +"Nae higher! Nae higher! Aff! Aff! Up hellum, up!" His voice a +scream, the Old Man turned to bear a frantic heave on the spokes. + +Obedient to the helm and the Mate's ready hand at the driver sheets, +she flew off, free of the wind and sea--tearing past the towering +rocks, a cable's length to leeward. Shock upon shock, the great +Atlantic sea broke and shattered and fell back from the scarred granite +face of the outmost Stag; a seething maelstrom of tortured waters, +roaring, crashing, shrilling into the deep, jagged fissures--a shriek +of Furies bereft. And, high above the tumult of the waters and the +loud, glad cries of us, the hoarse, choking voice of the man who had +backed his ship. + +"Done it, ye bitch!"--a now trembling hand at his old grey head. "Done +it! Weathered--by Goad!" + + + + +XXVI + +LIKE A MAN! + +Spring in the air of it, a bright, keen day, and the mist only strong +enough to soften the bold, rugged outline of Knocknarea, our sailing +mark, towering high and solitary above Sligo Harbour. The strong west +wind that we had fought and bested at the Stags turned friendly, had +blown us fair to our voyage's end, and now, under easy canvas, we +tacked on shore and off, waiting for tide to bear up and float our +twenty feet in safety across the Bar. + +At Raghly, our signal for a local pilot was loyally responded to. A +ship of tonnage was clearly a rare sight in these parts, for the entire +male population came off to see us safely in--to make a day of it! Old +pilots and young, fishermen and gossoons, they swept out from creek and +headland in their swift Mayo skiffs, and though only one was Trinity +licensed for our draft of water, the rest remained, to bear willing +hands at the braces on the chance of a job at the cargo being given. + +'Ould Andy' was the official pilot--a hardy old farmer-fisherman, +weazened by years and the weather. He had donned his best in honour of +the occasion--a coarse suit of fearnought serges, quaintly cut, and an +ancient top hat, set at a rakish angle. Hasty rising showed in razor +cuts on his hard blue jowl, and his untied shoes made clatter as he +mounted the poop, waving a yellow time-stained license. An odd figure +for a master-pilot; but he made a good impression on Old Jock when he +said, simply, "... but bedad, now, Cyaptin! Sure, Oim no hand at thim +big yards ov yours, but Oi kin show ye where th' daape watther is!" + +The ship steered to his liking, and all in trim, he walked the poop, +showing a great pride of his importance as a navigator of twenty feet. +Suddenly--at no apparent call--he stepped to the side where his boat +was towing. + +"What-t," he yelled. "Ach, hoult yer whisht! What-t are yez shoutin' +about? What-t? Ast the Cyaptin f'r a bit av 'baccy f'r th' byes in +th' boat! Indade, an' Oi will natt ast th' dacent gintilman f'r a bit +av 'baccy f'r th' byes in th' boat! What-t? Ach, hoult yer whisht, +now!" + +Joining the Captain he resumed the thread of his description of Sligo +Port, apparently unheeding the Old Man's side order to the steward that +sent a package of hard tobacco over the rail. + +"... an' ye'll lie at Rosses Point, Cyaptin, till ye loighten up t' +fourteen faate. Thin, thr'll be watther f'r yes at th' Quay, but..." +(Another tangent to the lee rail.) ... "Ach! What-t's th' matther wit' +ye now. Be m' sowl, it's heart-breakin' ye are, wit' yer shoutin' an' +that-t! What-t? Salt baafe an' a few bisskits! No! Oi will natt!! +Ast 'im yersilf f'r a bit av salt baafe an' a few bisskits, bad scran +t' ye, yes ongrateful thaaves!" + +We are homeward bound; the beef and biscuits go down. After them, "a +tarn sail--jest a rag, d'ye moind, t' make a jib f'r th' ould boat"; +then, "a pat av paint an' a brush"--it becomes quite exciting with Ould +Andy abusing his boat's crew at every prompted request. We are +beginning to wager on the nature of the next, when sent to the stations +for anchoring. Ould Andy, with an indignant gesture and shake of his +fists, turns away to attend to his more legitimate business, and, at +his direction, we anchor to seaward of the Bar. + +The wind that has served us so well has died away in faint airs, +leaving a long glassy swell to score the placid surface of the Bay and +set a pearly fringe on the distant shore. The tide moves steadily in +flood, broadening in ruffling eddies at the shoals of the Bar. On a +near beacon a tide gauge shows the water, and when sail is furled and +the yards in harbour trim we have naught to do but reckon our wages, +and watch the rising water lapping, inch by inch, on the figured board. +From seaward there is little to be seen of the countryside. The land +about is low to the coast, but far inland blue, mist-capped ranges +stand bold and rugged against the clear northern sky. Beyond the Bar +the harbour lies bare of shipping--only a few fishing skiffs putting +out under long sweeps, and the channel buoys bobbing and heaving on the +long swell. A deserted port we are come to after our long voyage from +the West! + +"That'll be th' _Maid o' th' Moy_, Cyaptin," said Ould Andy, squinting +through the glasses at smoke-wrack on the far horizon. "Hot-fut from +Ballina, t' tow ye in. An' Rory Kilgallen may save his cowl, bedad, +f'r we'll naade two fut av watther yet before we get acrost. +Bedad"--in high glee--"he'll nat-t be after knowin' that it's twinty +faate, no liss, that Ould Andy is bringin' in this day!" + +With a haste that marks her skipper's anxiety to get a share of the +good things going, the _Maid_, a trim little paddle tug, draws nigh, +and soon a high bargaining begins between Old Jock and the tugman, with +an eager audience to chorus, "D'ye hear that-t, now!" at each fiery +period. Rory has the whip hand--and knows it. No competition, and the +tide making inch by inch on the beacon gauge! + +For a time Old Jock holds out manfully. "Goad, no! I'll kedge th' +hooker up t' Sligo Quay before I give ye that!" But high water at hand +and no sign of wind, he takes the tug on at a stiff figure, and we man +the windlass, tramping the well-worn round together for the last time. + +_Leave her_ is the set chantey for finish of a voyage, and we roar a +lusty chorus to Granger, the chanteyman. + + "O! Leave 'r John-ny, leave 'r like a man, + (_An' leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Oh! Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r when ye can, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") + + +A hard heave, and the tug lying short. A Merseyman would have the +weight off the cable by this. + + "O! Soon we'll 'ear 'th Ol' Man say, + (_Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Ye kin go ashore an' take yer pay, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!_") + + +"Heave, byes," the gossoons bearing stoutly on the bars with us. +"Heave, now! He's got no frin's!" + + "O! Th' times wos 'ard, an' th' wages low, + (_Leave 'r, John-ny, leave 'r!_) + Th' w'yage wos long, an' th' gales did blow, + (_An' it's time--for us--t' leave 'r!"_) + +Check--and rally; check--a mad rush round--the anchor dripping at the +bows, and we move on across the eddies of the Bar in wake of the +panting tug. + +A short tow, for all the bargaining, and at Rosses Point we bring up to +moorings--the voyage at an end. + +"That'll do, you men," said the Mate, when the last warp was turned. +"Pay off at th' Custom House at twelve to-morrow!" + +"That'll do!" Few words and simple; but the meaning! Free at last! +No man's servant! With a hurricane whoop the crew rush to quarters to +sling their bags for the road. + +Then the trafficking with the shore, the boatmen reaping a harvest. "A +bob th' trip, yer 'anner, on a day like this." The doors of the +village inn swinging constantly, and the white-aproned landlord +(mopping a heated brow at royal orders), sending messengers to ransack +the village cupboards for a reserve of glasses. And when at last the +boats are ready for the long pull up to Sligo town, and the impatient +boatmen shouting, "Coom on now, byes! Before th' toide tarns; byes, +now!" The free men embark, and we, the afterguard (who draw no pay), +are left to watch them set off, and wish that our day were quickly come. + +For a time we hear their happy voices, and answer cheer for cheer, then +the dark comes, and the last is a steady _clack_ of rowlocks, and the +men singing "_Leave 'r, John-ny ... like a man!_" + + * * * * * + +Two days later, on deck of the Glasgow boat, I gazed on my old ship for +the last time. At the narrow bend we steamed slow, to steer cautiously +past her. The harbour watch were there to give me a parting cheer, and +Old Jock, from the poop, waved a cheery response to my salute. Past +her, we turned water again, and sped on to sea. + +It was a day of mist and low clouds, and a weakly sun breaking through +in long slanting shafts of light. Over the Point a beam was fleeting, +playing on the house-tops, shimmering in window glasses, lighting on +the water, on the tracery of spar and rigging, and showing golden on +the red-rusty hull of the old barque--my home for so long in fair +weather and foul. + +A turn of the steering shut her from my sight, and I turned to go below. + +"Fine ships! Fine ships--t' look aat!" + +The Mate of the steamer, relieved from duty, had stopped at my side, +sociable. He would be a Skye-man by the talk of him. It was good to +hear the old speech again. + +"Aye! she's a fine ship." + +"Haf you been th' voyage in her? Been long away?" + +"Oh yes! Sixteen months this trip!" + +"Saxteen munss! Ma grasshius! Y'll haf a fine pey oot o' her?" + +"Not a cent! Owing, indeed; but my time'll be out in a week, an I'll +get my indentures." + +"Oh, yiss! Oh, yiss! A bressbounder, eh!" Then he gave a half-laugh, +and muttered the old formula about "the man who would go to sea for +pleasure, going to hell for a pastime!" + +"Whatna voyage did ye haf, now?" he asked, after filling a pipe with +good 'golden bar,' that made me empty the bowl of mine, noisily. + +"Oh, pretty bad. Gales an' gales. Hellish weather off the Horn, an' +short-handed, an' the house full o' lashin' water--not a dry spot, fore +an' aft. 'Gad! we had it sweet down there. Freezin', too, an' th' +sails hard as old Harry. Ah! a fine voyage, wi' rotten grub an' short +commons at that!" + +"Man, man! D'ye tell me that, now! Ma grasshius! Ah wouldna go in +them if ye wass t' gif me twenty pounds a munss!" + +No; I didn't suppose he would, looking at the clean, well-fed cut of +him, and thinking of the lean, hungry devils who had sailed with me. + +"Naw! Ah wouldna go in them if ye wass t' gif me thirrty pounss a +munss! Coaffins, Ah caall them! Aye, coaffins, that iss what they +are!" + +Coffin! I thought of a ship staggering hard-pressed to windward of a +ledge of cruel rocks, the breakers shrieking for a prey, and the old +grey-haired Master of her slapping the rail and shouting, "Up t'it, m' +beauty! T' windward, ye bitch!" + +"Aye, coaffins," he repeated. "That iss what they are!" + +I had no answer--he was a steamboat man, and would not have understood. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +"1910" + +Into a little-used dock space remote from harbour traffic she is put +aside--out of date and duty, surging at her rusted moorings when the +dock gates are swung apart and laden steamships pass out on the road +she may no longer travel. The days pass--the weeks--the months; the +tide ebbs, and comes again; fair winds carry but trailing smoke-wrack +to the rim of a far horizon; head winds blow the sea mist in on +her--but she lies unheeding. Idle, unkempt, neglected; and the haughty +figurehead of her is turned from the open sea. + +Black with the grime of belching factories, the great yards, that could +yet spread broad sails to the breeze, swing idly on untended braces, +trusses creaking a note of protest, sheet and lift chains clanking +dismally against the mast. Stout purchase blocks that once _chirrped_ +in chorus to a seaman's chantey stand stiffened with disuse; idle rags +of fluttering sailcloth mar the tracery of spar and cordage; in every +listless rope, every disordered ratline, she flies a signal of +distress--a pennant of neglect. + +Her decks, encumbered with harbour gear and tackle, are given over to +the rude hands of the longshoreman; a lumber yard for harbour refuse, a +dumping ground for the ashes of the bustling dock tugs. On the hatch +covers of her empty holds planks and stages are thrown aside, left as +when the last of the cargo was dragged from her; hoist ropes, frayed +and chafed to feather edges, swing from the yardarms; broken cargo +slings lie rotting in a mess of grain refuse. The work is done. There +is not a labourer's pay in her; the stevedores are gone ashore. + +Though yet staunch and seaworthy, she stands condemned by modern +conditions: conditions that call for a haste she could never show, for +a burthen that she could never carry. But a short time, and her owners +(grown weary of waiting a chance charter at even the shadow of a +freight) may turn their thumbs down, and the old barque pass to her +doom. In happy case, she may yet remain afloat--a sheer hulk, drowsing +the tides away in some remote harbour, coal-hulking for her +steam-pressed successor. + +And of her crew, the men who manned and steered her? Scattered afar on +seven seas, learning a new way of seafaring; turning the grip that had +held to a life aloft to the heft of a coalman's shovel, the deft +fingers that had fashioned a wondrous plan of stay and shroud to the +touch of winch valve and lever. Only an old man remains, a warden, in +keeping with the lowly state of his once trim barque. Too old +(conservative, may be) to start sea life anew, he has come to +shipkeeping--a not unpleasant way of life for an aged mariner, so that +he can sit on the hatch on fine nights, with a neighbourly dock +policeman or Customs watcher and talk of the sea as only he knows it. +And when his gossip has risen to go the rounds, what links to the chain +of memory may he not forge, casting his old eyes aloft to the gaunt +spars and their burden of useless sail? Who knows what kindly ghosts +of bygone shipmates walk with him in the night watches, when the dock +lies silent and the flickering harbour lights are shimmering, reflected +in a broad expanse? + + + + +THE END + + + + +The New Readers' Library + +POCKET EDITIONS OF MODERN ENGLISH CLASSICS + +Printed on thin paper, and bound in flexible cloth. Size 7 x 4 1/2 in. +3s. 6d. net each. + +A new series of pocket editions of important copyright works by eminent +modern authors many of which have never before been available at a +popular price. + +"_An edition so nice and nimble that it might penetrate +anywhere._"--MR. WILLIAM GERHARDI. + +"_Books which every lover of English literature ought to own._"--PUBLIC +OPINION. + +_THE SIX MOST RECENT VOLUMES_ + + + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 39. English Poems. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 42. Faith. + 44. Scottish Stories. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 40. The Gathering of Brother Hilarius. + + MRS. WALDO RICHARDS + + 41. High Tide: an anthology. + + SACHEVERELL SITWELL + + 43. The Hundred and One Harlequins. + + MAURICE BARING + + 6. Lost Diaries. + + H. BELLOC + + 15. Caliban's guide to Letters, and Lambkin's Remains. + + JOHN BERESFORD + + 20. Gossip of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: six + studies in the human side of history. + + AUGUSTINE BIRRELL + + 16. Obiter Dicta. + + EDMUND BLUNDEN + + 7. The Bonadventure: a random journal of an Atlantic holiday. + 31. The Shepherd and other poems of Peace and War. + + DAVID W. BONE + + 13. The Brassbounder: a tale of the sea. + + IVOR BROWN + + 35. The Meaning of Democracy. + + R. B. CUNNINGHAME GRAHAM + + 8. Success, and other sketches. + 34. Thirteen Stories. + + JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + + 11. God's Country. + + J. H. FABRE + + 26. Social Life in the Insect World. + 27. The Wonders of Instinct: chapters in the psychology of Insects. + + MICHAEL FAIRLESS + + 4. The Roadmender + + JOHN GALSWORTHY + + 24. Six Short Plays. + + WILLIAM GERHARDI + + 2. The Polyglots: a novel. + 21. Futility: a novel. + 32. Anton Chekov: a critical study. + + MAXIM GORKY + + 38. Twenty-six men and a girl, and other stories, with an + Introduction by Edward Garnett. + + W. H. HUDSON + + 1. Green Mansions: a Romance of the Tropical Forest. + 9. Birds and Man. + 14. The Purple Land. + 18. A Crystal Age. + 23. 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