Books: Many Cargoes
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W.W. Jacobs >> Many Cargoes
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"What about sleeping accommodation?" inquired the mate, with the air of
a man putting a poser.
"I've thought o' that," replied the other; "it's all arranged."
The mate, with an uncompromising air, waited for information.
"She--she's to have your berth, George," continued the skipper, without
looking at him. "You can have that nice, large, airy locker."
"One what the biscuit and onions kep' in?" inquired George.
The skipper nodded.
"I think, if it's all the same to you," said the mate, with laboured
politeness, "I'll wait till the butter keg's empty, and crowd into
that."
"It's no use your making yourself unpleasant about it," said the
skipper, "not a bit. The arrangements are made now, and here she comes."
Following his gaze, the mate looked up as a stout, comely-looking woman
of middle age came along the jetty, followed by the watchman staggering
under a box of enormous proportions.
"Jim!" cried the lady.
"Halloa!" cried the skipper, starting uneasily at the title. "We've been
expecting you for some time."
"There's a row on with the cabman," said the lady calmly. "This silly
old man"--the watchman snorted fiercely--"let the box go through the
window getting it off the top, and the cabman wants ME to pay. He's out
there using language, and he keeps calling me grandma--I want you to
have him locked up."
"Come down below now," said the skipper; "we'll see about the cab. Mrs.
Blossom--my mate. George, go and send that cab away."
Mrs. Blossom, briefly acknowledging the introduction, followed the
skipper to the cabin, while the mate, growling under his breath, went
out to enter into a verbal contest in which he was from the first
hopelessly overmatched.
The new cook, being somewhat fatigued with her journey, withdrew at an
early hour, and the sun was well up when she appeared on deck next
morning. The wharves and warehouses of the night before had disappeared,
and the schooner, under a fine spread of canvas, was just passing
Tilbury.
"There's one thing I must put a stop to," said the skipper, as he and
the mate, after an admirably-cooked breakfast, stood together talking.
"The men seem to be hanging round that galley too much."
"What can you expect?" demanded the mate. "They've all got their Sunday
clothes on too, pretty dears."
"Hi, you Bill!" cried the skipper. "What are you doing there?"
"Lending cook a hand with the saucepans, sir," said Bill, an oakum-
bearded man of sixty.
"There ain't no call for 'im to come 'ere at all, sir," shouted another
seaman, putting his head out of the galley. "Me an' cook's lifting 'em
beautiful."
"Come out, both of you, or I'll start you with a rope!" roared the
irritated commander.
"What's the matter?" inquired Mrs. Blossom. "They're not doing any
harm."
"I can't have 'em there," said the skipper gruffly. "They've got other
things to do."
"I must have some assistance with that boiler and the saucepans," said
Mrs. Blossom decidedly, "so don't you interfere with what don't concern
you, Jimmy."
"That's mutiny," whispered the horrified mate. "Sheer, rank mutiny."
"She don't know no better," whispered the other back. "Cook, you mustn't
talk like that to the cap'n--what me and the mate tell you you must do.
You don't understand yet, but it'll come easier by-and-bye."
"WILL it," demanded Mrs. Blossom loudly; "WILL it? I don't think it
will. How dare you talk to me like that, Jim Harris? You ought to be
ashamed of yourself!"
"My name's Cap'n Harris," said the skipper stiffly.
"Well, CAPTAIN Harris," said Mrs. Blossom scornfully; "and what'll
happen if I don't do as you and that other shamefaced-looking man tell
me?"
"We hope it won't come to that," said Harris, with quiet dignity, as he
paused at the companion. "But the mate's in charge just now, and I warn
you he's a very severe man. Don't stand no nonsense, George."
With these brave words the skipper disappeared below, and the mate,
after one glance at the dauntless and imposing attitude of Mrs. Blossom,
walked to the side and became engrossed in a passing steamer. A hum of
wondering admiration arose from the crew, and the cook, thoroughly
satisfied with her victory, returned to the scene of her labours.
For the next twenty-four hours Mrs. Blossom reigned supreme, and
performed the cooking for the vessel, assisted by five ministering
seamen. The weather was fine, and the wind light, and the two officers
were at their wits' end to find jobs for the men.
"Why don't you put your foot down," grumbled the mate, as a burst of
happy laughter came from the direction of the galley. "The idea of men
laughing like that aboard ship; they're carrying on just as though we
wasn't here."
"Will you stand by me?" demanded the skipper, pale but determined.
"Of course I will," said the other indignantly.
"Now, my lads," said Harris, stepping forward, "I can't have you chaps
hanging round the galley all day; you're getting in cook's way and
hindering her. Just get your knives out; I'll have the masts scraped."
"You just stay where you are," said Mrs. Blossom. "When they're in my
way, I'll soon let 'em know."
"Did you hear what I said?" thundered the skipper, as the men hesitated.
"Aye, aye, sir," muttered the crew, moving off.
"How dare you interfere with me?" said Mrs. Blossom hotly, as she
realised the defeat. "Ever since I've been on this ship you've been
trying to aggravate me. I wonder the men don't hit you, you nasty,
ginger-whiskered little man."
"Go on with your work," said the skipper, fondly stroking the maligned
whiskers.
"Don't you talk to me, Jim Harris," said Mrs. Blossom, quivering with
wrath. "Don't you give ME none of your airs. WHO BORROWED FIVE POUNDS
FROM MY POOR DEAD HUSBAND JUST BEFORE HE DIED, AND NEVER PAID IT BACK?"
"Go on with your work," repeated the skipper, with pale lips.
"WHOSE UNCLE BENJAMIN HAD THREE WEEKS?" demanded Mrs. Blossom darkly.
"WHOSE UNCLE JOSEPH HAD TO GO ABROAD WITHOUT STOPPING TO PACK UP?"
The skipper made no reply, but the anxiety of the crew to have these
vital problems solved was so manifest that he turned his back on the
virago and went towards the mate, who at that moment dipped hurriedly to
escape a wet dish-clout. The two men regarded each other, pale with
anxiety.
"Now, you just move off," said Mrs. Blossom, shaking another clout at
them. "I won't have you hanging about my galley. Keep to your own end of
the ship."
The skipper drew himself up haughtily, but the effect was somewhat
marred by one eye, which dwelt persistently on the clout, and after a
short inward struggle he moved off, accompanied by the mate. Wellington
himself would have been nonplussed by a wet cloth in the hands of a
fearless woman.
"She'll just have to have her own way till we get to Llanelly," said the
indignant skipper, "and then I'll send her home by train and ship
another cook. I knew she'd got a temper, but I didn't know it was like
this. She's the last woman that sets foot on my ship--that's all she's
done for her sex."
In happy ignorance of her impending doom Mrs. Blossom went blithely
about her duties, assisted by a crew whose admiration for her increased
by leaps and bounds; and the only thing which ventured to interfere with
her was a stiff Atlantic roll, which they encountered upon rounding the
Land's End.
The first intimation Mrs. Blossom had of it was the falling of small
utensils in the galley. After she had picked them up and replaced them
several times, she went out to investigate, and discovered that the
schooner was dipping her bows to big green waves, and rolling, with much
straining and creaking, from side to side. A fine spray, which broke
over the bows and flew over the vessel, drove her back into the galley,
which had suddenly developed an unaccountable stuffiness; but, though
the crew to a man advised her to lie down and have a cup of tea, she
repelled them with scorn, and with pale face and compressed lips stuck
to her post.
Two days later they made fast to the quay at Llanelly, and half-an-hour
later the skipper called the mate down to the cabin, and, handing him
some money, told him to pay the cook off and ship another. The mate
declined.
"You obey orders," said the skipper fiercely, "else you an' me'll
quarrel."
"I've got a wife an' family," urged the mate.
"Pooh!" said the skipper. "Rubbish!"
"And uncles," added the mate rebelliously.
"Very good," said the skipper, glaring. "We'll ship the other cook first
and let him settle it. After all, I don't see why we should fight his
battles for him."
The mate, being agreeable, went off at once; and when Mrs. Blossom,
after a little shopping ashore, returned to the Gannet she found the
galley in the possession of one of the fattest cooks that ever broke
ship's biscuit.
"Hullo!" said she, realising the situation at a glance, "what are you
doing here?"
"Cooking," said the other gruffly. Then, catching sight of his
questioner, he smiled amorously and winked at her.
"Don't you wink at me," said Mrs. Blossom wrathfully. "Come out of that
galley."
"There's room for both," said the new cook persuasively. "Come in an'
put your 'ed on my shoulder."
Utterly unprepared for this mode of attack, Mrs. Blossom lost her nerve,
and, instead of storming the galley, as she had fully intended, drew
back and retired to the cabin, where she found a short note from the
skipper, enclosing her pay, and requesting her to take the train home.
After reading this she went ashore again, returning presently with a big
bundle, which she placed on the cabin table in front of Harris and the
mate, who had just begun tea.
"I'm not going home by train," said she, opening the bundle, which
contained a spirit kettle and provisions. "I'm going back with you; but
I am not going to be beholden to you for anything--I 'm going to board
myself."
After this declaration she made herself tea and sat down. The meal
proceeded in silence, though occasionally she astonished her companions
by little mysterious laughs, which caused them slight uneasiness. As she
made no hostile demonstration, however, they became reassured, and
congratulated themselves upon the success of their manoeuvre.
"How long shall we be getting back to London, do you think?" inquired
Mrs. Blossom at last.
"We shall probably sail Tuesday night, and it may be anything from six
days upwards," answered the skipper. "If this wind holds it'll probably
be upwards."
To his great concern Mrs. Blossom put her handkerchief over her face,
and, shaking with suppressed laughter, rose from the table and left the
cabin.
The couple left eyed each other wonderingly.
"Did I say anything pertickler funny, George?" inquired the skipper,
after some deliberation.
"Didn't strike me so," said the mate carelessly; "I expect she's thought
o' something else to say about your family. She wouldn't be so good-
tempered as all that for nothing. I feel cur'ous to know what it is."
"If you paid more attention to your own business," said the skipper, his
choler rising, "you'd get on better. A mate who was a good seaman
wouldn't ha' let a cook go on like this--it's not discipline."
He went off in dudgeon, and a coolness sprang up between them, which
lasted until the bustle of starting in the small hours of Wednesday
morning.
Once under way the day passed uneventfully, the schooner crawling
sluggishly down the coast of Wales, and, when the skipper turned in that
night, it was with the pleasant conviction that Mrs. Blossom had shot
her last bolt, and, like a sensible woman, was going to accept her
defeat. From this pleasing idea he was aroused suddenly by the watch
stamping heavily on the deck overhead.
"What's up?" cried the skipper, darting up the companion-ladder, jostled
by the mate.
"I dunno," said Bill, who was at the wheel, shakily. "Mrs. Blossom come
up on deck a little while ago, and since then there's been three or four
heavy splashes."
"She can't have gone overboard," said the skipper, in tones to which he
manfully strove to impart a semblance of anxiety. "No, here she is.
Anything wrong, Mrs. Blossom?"
"Not so far as I'm concerned," replied the lady, passing him and going
below.
"You've been dreaming, Bill," said the skipper sharply.
"I ain't," said Bill stoutly. "I tell you I heard splashes. It's my
belief she coaxed the cook up on deck, and then shoved him overboard. A
woman could do anything with a man like that cook."
"I'll soon see," said the mate, and walking forward he put his head down
the fore-scuttle and yelled for the cook.
"Aye, aye, sir," answered a voice sleepily, while the other men started
up in their bunks. "Do you want me?"
"Bill thinks somebody has gone overboard," said the mate. "Are you all
here?"
In answer to this the mystified men turned out all standing, and came on
deck yawning and rubbing their eyes, while the mate explained the
situation. Before he had finished the cook suddenly darted off to the
galley, and the next moment the forlorn cry of a bereaved soul broke on
their startled ears.
"What is it?" cried the mate.
"Come here!" shouted the cook, "look at this!"
He struck a match and held it aloft in his shaking fingers, and the men,
who were worked up to a great pitch of excitement and expected to see
something ghastly, after staring hard for some time in vain, profanely
requested him to be more explicit.
"She's thrown all the saucepans and things overboard," said the cook
with desperate calmness. "This lid of a tea kettle is all that's left
for me to do the cooking in."
* * * * *
The Gannet, manned by seven famine-stricken misogynists, reached London
six days later, the skipper obstinately refusing to put in at an
intermediate port to replenish his stock of hardware. The most he would
consent to do was to try and borrow from a passing vessel, but the
unseemly behaviour of the master of a brig, who lost two hours owing to
their efforts to obtain a saucepan of him, utterly discouraged any
further attempts in that direction, and they settled down to a diet of
biscuits and water, and salt beef scorched on the stove.
Mrs. Blossom, unwilling perhaps to witness their sufferings, remained
below, and when they reached London, only consented to land under the
supervision of a guard of honour, composed of all the able-bodied men on
the wharf.
A BENEFIT PERFORMANCE
In the small front parlour of No. 3, Mermaid Passage, Sunset Bay,
Jackson Pepper, ex-pilot, sat in a state of indignant collapse, tenderly
feeling a cheek on which the print of hasty fingers still lingered.
The room, which was in excellent order, showed no signs of the tornado
which had passed through it, and Jackson Pepper, looking vaguely round,
was dimly reminded of those tropical hurricanes he had read about which
would strike only the objects in the path, and leave all others
undisturbed.
In this instance he had been the object, and the tornado, after
obliterating him, had passed up the small staircase which led from the
room, leaving him listening anxiously to its distant mutterings.
To his great discomfort the storm showed signs of coming up again, and
he had barely time to effect an appearance of easy unconcern, which
accorded but ill with the flush afore-mentioned, when a big, red-faced
woman came heavily downstairs and burst into the room.
"You have made me ill again," she said severely, "and now I hope you are
satisfied with your work. You'll kill me before you have done with me!"
The ex-pilot shifted on his chair.
"You're not fit to have a wife," continued Mrs. Pepper, "aggravating
them and upsetting them! Any other woman would have left you long ago!"
"We've only been married three months," Pepper reminded her.
"Don't talk to me!" said his wife; "it seems more like a lifetime!"
"It seems a long time to ME" said the ex-pilot, plucking up a little
courage.
"That's right!" said his wife, striding over to where he sat. "Say
you're tired of me; say you wish you hadn't married me! You coward! Ah!
if my poor first husband was only alive and sitting in that chair now
instead of you, how happy I would be!"
"If he likes to come and take it he's welcome!" said Pepper; "it's my
chair, and it was my father's before me, but there's no man living I
would sooner give it to than your first. Ah! he knew what he was about
when the Dolphin went down, he did. I don't blame him, though."
"What do you mean?" demanded his wife.
"It's my belief that he didn't go down with her," said Pepper, crossing
over to the staircase and standing with his hand on the door.
"Didn't go down with her?" repeated his wife scornfully. "What became of
him, then? Where's he been this thirty years?"
"In hiding!" said Pepper spitefully, and passed hastily upstairs.
The room above was charged with memories of the late lamented. His
portrait in oils hung above the mantel-piece, smaller portraits--
specimens of the photographer's want of art--were scattered about the
room, while various personal effects, including a mammoth pair of sea-
boots, stood in a corner. On all these articles the eye of Jackson
Pepper dwelt with an air of chastened regret.
"It 'ud be a rum go if he did turn up after all," he said to himself
softly, as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I've heard of such things in
books. I dessay she'd be disappointed if she did see him now. Thirty
years makes a bit of difference in a man."
"Jackson!" cried his wife from below, "I'm going out. If you want any
dinner you can get it; if not, you can go without it!"
The front door slammed violently, and Jackson, advancing cautiously to
the window, saw the form of his wife sailing majestically up the
passage. Then he sat down again and resumed his meditations.
"If it wasn't for leaving all my property I'd go," he said gloomily.
"There's not a bit of comfort in the place! Nag, nag, nag, from morn
till night! Ah, Cap'n Budd, you let me in for a nice thing when you went
down with that boat of yours. Come back and fill them boots again;
they're too big for me."
He rose suddenly and stood gaping in the centre of the room, as a mad,
hazy idea began to form in his brain. His eyes blinked and his face grew
white with excitement. He pushed open the little lattice window, and sat
looking abstractedly up the passage on to the bay beyond. Then he put on
his hat, and, deep in thought, went out.
He was still thinking deeply as he boarded the train for London next
morning, and watched Sunset Bay from the window until it disappeared
round the curve. So many and various were the changes that flitted over
his face that an old lady, whose seat he had taken, gave up her
intention of apprising him of the fact, and indulged instead in a bitter
conversation with her daughter, of which the erring Pepper was the
unconscious object.
In the same preoccupied fashion he got on a Bayswater omnibus, and
waited patiently for it to reach Poplar. Strange changes in the
landscape, not to be accounted for by the mere lapse of time, led to
explanations, and the conductor--a humane man, who said he had got an
idiot boy at home--personally laid down the lines of his tour. Two hours
later he stood in front of a small house painted in many colours, and,
ringing the bell, inquired for Cap'n Crippen.
In response to his inquiry, a big man, with light blue eyes and a long
grey beard, appeared, and, recognising his visitor with a grunt of
surprise, drew him heartily into the passage and thrust him into the
parlour. He then shook hands with him, and, clapping him on the back,
bawled lustily for the small boy who had opened the door.
"Pot o' stout, bottle o' gin, and two long pipes," said he, as the boy
came to the door and eyed the ex-pilot curiously.
At all these honest preparations for his welcome the heart of Jackson
grew faint within him.
"Well, I call it good of you to come all this way to see me," said the
captain, after the boy had disappeared; "but you always was warm-
hearted, Pepper. And how's the missis?"
"Shocking!" said Pepper, with a groan.
"Ill?" inquired the captain.
"Ill-tempered," said Pepper. "In fact, cap'n, I don't mind telling you,
she's killing me--slowly killing me!"
"Pooh!" said Crippen. "Nonsense! You don't know how to manage her!"
"I thought perhaps you could advise me," said the artful Pepper. "I said
to myself yesterday, 'Pepper, go and see Cap'n Crippen. What he don't
know about wimmen and their management ain't worth knowing! If there's
anybody can get you out of a hole, it's him. He's got the power, and,
what's more, he's got the will!'"
"What causes the temper?" inquired the captain, with his most judicial
air, as he took the liquor from his messenger and carefully filled a
couple of glasses.
"It's natural!" said his friend ruefully. "She calls it having a high
spirit herself. And she's so generous. She's got a married niece living
in the place, and when that gal comes round and admires the things--my
things--she gives 'em to her! She gave her a sofa the other day, and,
what's more, she made me help the gal to carry it home!"
"Have you tried being sarcastic?" inquired the captain thoughtfully.
"I have," said Pepper, with a shiver. "The other day I said, very nasty,
'Is there anything else you'd like, my dear?' but she didn't understand
it."
"No?" said the captain.
"No," said Pepper. "She said I was very kind, and she'd like the clock;
and, what's more, she had it too! Red-'aired hussy!"
The captain poured out some gin and drank it slowly. It was evident he
was thinking deeply, and that he was much affected by his friend's
troubles.
"There is only one way for me to get clear," said Pepper, as he finished
a thrilling recital of his wrongs, "and that is, to find Cap'n Budd, her
first."
"Why, he's dead!" said Crippen, staring hard. "Don't you waste your time
looking for him!"
"I'm not going to," said Pepper; "but here's his portrait. He was a big
man like you; he had blue eyes and a straight handsome nose, like you.
If he'd lived to now he'd be almost your age, and very likely more like
you than ever. He was a sailor; you've been a sailor."
The captain stared at him in bewilderment.
"He had a wonderful way with wimmen," pursued Jackson hastily; "you've
got a wonderful way with wimmen. More than that, you've got the most
wonderful gift for acting I've ever seen. Ever since the time when you
acted in that barn at Bristol I've never seen any actor I can honestly
say I've liked--never! Look how you can imitate cats--better than Henry
Irving himself!"
"I never had much chance, being at sea all my life," said Crippen
modestly.
"You've got the gift," said Pepper impressively. "It was born in you,
and you'll never leave off acting till the day of your death. You
couldn't if you tried--you know you couldn't!"
The captain smiled deprecatingly.
"Now, I want you to do a performance for my benefit," continued Pepper.
"I want you to act Cap'n Budd, what was lost in the Dolphin thirty years
ago. There's only one man in England I'd trust with the part, and that's
you."
"Act Cap'n Budd!" gasped the astonished Crippen, putting down his glass
and staring at his friend.
"The part is written here," said the ex-pilot, producing a note-book
from his breast pocket and holding it out to his friend. I've been
keeping a log day by day of all the things she said about him, in the
hopes of catching her tripping, but I never did. There's notes of his
family, his ships, and a lot of silly things he used to say, which she
thinks funny."
"I couldn't do it!" said the captain seriously, as he took the book.
"You could do it if you liked," said Pepper. "Besides, think what a
spree it'll be for you. Learn it by heart, then come down and claim her.
Her name's Martha."
"What good 'ud it do you if I did?" inquired the captain. "She'd soon
find out!"
"You come down to Sunset Bay," said Pepper, emphasising his remarks with
his forefinger; "you claim your wife; you allude carefully to the things
set down in this book; I give Martha back to you and bless you both.
Then"--
"Then what?" inquired Crippen anxiously.
"You disappear!" concluded Pepper triumphantly; "and, of course,
believing her first husband is alive, she has to leave me. She's a very
particular woman; and, besides that, I'd take care to let the neighbours
know. I'm happy, you're happy, and, if she's not happy, why, she don't
deserve to be."
"I'll think it over," said Crippen, "and write and let you know."
"Make up your mind now," urged Pepper, reaching over and patting him
encouragingly upon the shoulder. "If you promise to do it, the thing's
as good as done. Lord! I think I see you now, coming in at that door and
surprising her. Talk about acting!"
"Is she what you'd call a good-looking woman?" inquired Crippen.
"Very handsome!" said Pepper, looking out of the window.
"I couldn't do it!" said the captain. "It wouldn't be right and fair to
her."
"I don't see that!" said Pepper. "I never ought to have married her
without being certain her first was dead. It ain't right, Crippen; say
what you like, it ain't right!"
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