Читать книгу The Voyage of the Arrow to the China Seas - T. Jenkins Hains - Страница 4

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It is pleasant for a sailor to get his whole night’s sleep once in awhile, although, for myself, I always wake up whenever eight bells strike. This, of course, is from habit, and while I usually lie awake for some minutes afterward, it never can be said to break the night’s rest.

Twice, as the bells struck during the night, I awoke, and the vision of a beautiful face with loving eyes passed before me. I lay awake both times for several minutes, and cursed my luck heartily because I was still a mate.

Then, before I realized it, I found myself much prejudiced against Mr. Brown. His pale face annoyed me whenever I thought of it, and once I half made up my mind to make him wish he had never set foot on a ship’s deck, if he came into my watch.

When I turned out in the morning my temper had a less sinister aspect. I heard the black moke of a “doctor” singing in the galley, while the odour of steaming coffee filled the air—

“Oh, I’se an ole Cape Ho’ner,

An’ I’se gwine round de co’ner,

An’ I’se gwine whar de sun doan nebber shine.”

I drew several long, deep breaths of the fresh morning air and walked out on the main deck.

“Foine marnin’, Mr. Gore,” said O’Toole, as he came down the starboard gangway, “an’ if that bloody naygur’ll devote th’ energy he’s wastin’, t’gettin’ out some belly ballast for us, we’ll be for shorring up as far as the main hatch by dark.”

A little hinting from Mr. O’Toole as to some sundry personal disadvantages to the doctor that might arise if breakfast didn’t appear suddenly on the cabin table, had the effect of silencing the moke and producing the steward with the hand-bell.

Captain Crojack seated himself at the head of the table and cast a suspicious glance at me over the rim of his cup, while he drank his coffee in silence. I said nothing about what I had overheard in the saloon the day before, and nothing about Mr. Ropesend’s reasons for sending us an inexperienced officer. I tried to talk of the skipper’s sister and niece, who were to be our passengers. Then the old man asked plainly if I knew that Mr. Brown was to sail as third mate, and I answered bluntly that I did.

It was so evident, from his tone, that he was trying to find out the reason why the young man should do this that I determined, out of pure combativeness, not to gratify his curiosity. I might also add that I could not have truthfully gratified it, even had I so wished, for all I had heard was but the gossip of clerks and Mr. Ropesend’s transparent yarn about the young man’s health.

When we were through breakfast, I went forward to relieve O’Toole. I found, then, that by keeping what I had heard to myself, my feelings were completely changed toward young Brown. I now felt as though I were his protector. This sudden turn of affairs caused such a revulsion from the prejudice I had against him—when I thought of that sweet, upturned face—that if he had stepped on board that minute I would have given him a welcome that would probably have astonished him.

I merely mention these senseless facts to show how even the best of us—if I may be allowed to give myself my own rating—are affected by trifling matters without realizing it.

That night we found that, by a little pushing, we would be steved and ready to sail by the next afternoon or following morning. The skipper then made arrangements to have a crew ready.

Pretty Miss Waters and her mother came on board to see about getting their baggage stowed, and in the morning Mr. Brown came down and reported for duty.

I had so much to attend to during that last day that I hardly had a chance to speak to the young man, but I found that he was as willing to work as Mr. Ropesend had said.

By the time it was light enough to see, in the morning, the shipping-master brought down the men. They were as scurvy a lot of sailors as were ever grouped on a deck. Norwegians, Swedes, Dagos, and Dutchmen of the lowest class, but there wasn’t an English nor American sailor in the lot. I mention this to show what sailors are coming to, for it seems that no Yankee skipper will ship a Yankee crew.

Some of these men were pretty drunk and hardly fit for work, and the second mate carried aft a dozen bottles of hidden liquor which he found in their outfits.

Crojack came on deck and gave the order to cast off. The lines were let go and two tugs pulled us slowly into the stream while a few loungers and longshoremen, who were attracted by the bustle and noise at that early hour, waved their hats and cheered as the Stars and Stripes broke from the peak of the monkey-gaff.

The headline was passed along the port side and stopped at the mizzen channels in order to turn the ship’s head outward, when she cleared the dock. One of the men, a dark-faced Spaniard, who was so drunk that he could hardly understand an order, stood by to cast off the stop when the time came.

“Leggo!” bawled the skipper, from the poop, and the fellow started to cast off while standing outside the line which now had the full power of the tug on it.

In a moment away it went, catching him like a bowstring across the waist. He shot twenty feet into the air and, whirling over and over, landed with a splash in the river.

Crojack supposed that he would be dead or disabled when he rose, so he bawled for the tug to pick him up.

In a few seconds, however, up the fellow came and struck out lustily for the wharf, and, on reaching it, was hauled up by some of the longshoremen. He stopped a few moments to catch his breath, and waved his hand gracefully. Then, putting his thumb to his nose, he spread forth his fingers in a most aggravating manner at the skipper, who had the satisfaction of seeing him bolt through the crowd and make off with what little advance money he had left. This was followed by a yell of derision from his sympathizing friends on the wharf.

“A divil av a trick t’play on an honest captain an’ thrue Christian gentleman,” muttered O’Toole, who had watched the affair with a broad smile on his face.

But Captain Crojack was not a true Christian gentleman. He was a plain honest sailor, so he bawled out a variety of adjectives, such as no gentleman would ever use, and called vainly for the crowd on the wharf to stop his man. Then coming to the sensible conclusion that it would be better to keep on than lose valuable time hunting the fellow, he signalled to the steamer to go ahead. I really believe he forgave the poor fellow in the bottom of his heart.

The old skipper was not much of a gentleman, because he was something of a Christian, and he was a poor Christian because he was something of a gentleman. A man will find it hard to be both; for a gentleman must lie and play the hypocrite often in order to be civil.

As I was saying, we towed down the beautiful bay and through the great fleet of vessels lying at anchor. Through the Narrows and into the lower harbour, where we met the clipper Washington just coming into port. I recognized old Captain Foregaff as he sprang upon her poop-rail and waved his hand to us. Then Miss Waters felt in her pocket and produced a handkerchief and waved it frantically as the homeward bound ship drifted past with the tide.

Soon the low land of the Hook lay on our starboard beam and the swell of the Western Ocean was felt under the clipper’s forefoot. The topsail yards were hoisted and the sails sheeted home and in a few minutes the bar was crossed.

A good breeze blew from the westward and, as the tug let go the tow-line, we backed the mainyards to put off the pilot. Then, clapping on every rag that would draw, we headed away on our course a little to the southward of east.