Books: Many Cargoes
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W.W. Jacobs >> Many Cargoes
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"I feel quite curious to see this Miss Jones," said Miss Cooper amiably,
as they sat at dinner.
"She'll be on the quay, waving her handkerchief to him," said the mate.
"We'll be in to-morrow afternoon, and then you'll see her."
As it happened, the mate was a few hours out in his reckoning, for by
the time the Falcon's bows were laid for the small harbour it was quite
dark, and the little schooner glided in, guided by the two lights which
marked the entrance. The quay, seen in the light of a few scattered
lamps, looked dreary enough, and, except for two or three indistinct
figures, appeared to be deserted. Beyond, the broken lights of the town
stood out more clearly as the schooner crept slowly over the dark water
towards her berth.
"Fine night, cap'n," said the watchman, as the schooner came gently
alongside the quay.
The skipper grunted assent. He was peering anxiously at the quay.
"It's too late," said the mate. "You couldn't expect her this time
o'night. It's ten o'clock."
"I'll go over in the morning," said Evans, who, now that things had been
adjusted, was secretly disappointed that Miss Cooper had not witnessed
the meeting. "If you're not going ashore, we might have a hand o' cards
as soon's we're made fast."
The mate assenting, they went below, and were soon deep in the mysteries
of three-hand cribbage. Evans, who was a good player, surpassed himself,
and had just won the first game, the others being nowhere, when a head
was thrust down the companion-way, and a voice like a strained foghorn
called the captain by name.
"Ay, ay!" yelled Evans, laying down his hand.
"I'll come down, cap'n," said the voice, and the mate just had time to
whisper "Old Jones" to Miss Cooper, when a man of mighty bulk filled up
the doorway of the little cabin, and extended a huge paw to Evans and
the mate. He then looked at the lady, and, breathing hard, waited.
"Young lady o' the mate's," said Evans breathlessly,--"Miss Cooper. Sit
down, cap'n. Get the gin out, Bill."
"Not for me," said Captain Jones firmly, but with an obvious effort.
The surprise of Evans and the mate admitted of no concealment; but it
passed unnoticed by their visitor, who, fidgeting in his seat, appeared
to be labouring with some mysterious problem. After a long pause, during
which all watched him anxiously, he reached over the table and shook
hands with Evans again.
"Put it there, cap'n," said Evans, much affected by this token of
esteem.
The old man rose and stood looking at him, with his hand on his
shoulder; he then shook hands for the third time, and patted him
encouragingly on the back.
"Is anything the matter?" demanded the skipper of the Falcon as he rose
to his feet, alarmed by these manifestations of feeling." Is Mary--is
she ill?"
"Worse than that," said the other--"worse'n that, my poor boy; she's
married a lobster!"
The effect of this communication upon Evans was tremendous; but it may
be doubted whether he was more surprised than Miss Cooper, who, utterly
unversed in military terms, strove in vain to realize the possibility of
such a mesalliance, as she gazed wildly at the speaker and squeaked with
astonishment.
"When was it?" asked Evans at last, in a dull voice.
"Thursday fortnight, at ha' past eleven," said the old man. "He's a
sergeant in the line. I would have written to you, but I thought it was
best to come and break it to you gently. Cheer up, my boy; there's more
than one Mary Jones in the world."
With this undeniable fact, Captain Jones waved a farewell to the party
and went off, leaving them to digest his news. For some time they sat
still, the mate and Miss Cooper exchanging whispers, until at length,
the stillness becoming oppressive, they withdrew to their respective
berths, leaving the skipper sitting at the table, gazing hard at a knot
in the opposite locker.
For long after their departure he sat thus, amid a deep silence, broken
only by an occasional giggle from the stateroom, or an idiotic
sniggering from the direction of the mate's bunk, until, recalled to
mundane affairs by the lamp burning itself out, he went, in befitting
gloom, to bed.
THE RIVAL BEAUTIES
"If you hadn't asked me," said the night watchman, "I should never have
told you; but, seeing as you've put the question point blank, I will
tell you my experience of it. You're the first person I've ever opened
my lips to upon the subject, for it was so eggstraordinary that all our
chaps swore as they'd keep it to theirselves for fear of being
disbelieved and jeered at.
"It happened in '84, on board the steamer George Washington, bound from
Liverpool to New York. The first eight days passed without anything
unusual happening, but on the ninth I was standing aft with the first
mate, hauling in the log, when we hears a yell from aloft, an' a chap
what we called Stuttering Sam come down as if he was possessed, and
rushed up to the mate with his eyes nearly starting out of his 'ed.
"'There's the s-s-s-s-s-s-sis-sis-sip!' ses he.
"'The what?' ses the mate.
"'The s-s-sea-sea-sssssip!'
"'Look here, my lad,' ses the mate, taking out a pocket-hankerchief an'
wiping his face, 'you just tarn your 'ed away till you get your breath.
It's like opening a bottle o' soda water to stand talking to you. Now,
what is it?'
"'It's the ssssssis-sea-sea-sea-sarpint!' ses Sam, with a bust.
"'Rather a long un by your account of it,' ses the mate, with a grin.
"'What's the matter?' ses the skipper, who just came up.
"'This man has seen the sea-sarpint, sir, that's all,' ses the mate.
"'Y-y-yes,' said Sam, with a sort o' sob.
"'Well, there ain't much doing just now,' ses the skipper, 'so you'd
better get a slice o' bread and feed it.'
"The mate bust out larfing, an' I could see by the way the skipper
smiled he was rather tickled at it himself.
"The skipper an' the mate was still larfing very hearty when we heard a
dreadful 'owl from the bridge, an' one o' the chaps suddenly leaves the
wheel, jumps on to the deck, and bolts below as though he was mad.
T'other one follows 'm a'most d'reckly, and the second mate caught hold
o' the wheel as he left it, and called out something we couldn't catch
to the skipper.
"'What the d----'s the matter?' yells the skipper.
"The mate pointed to starboard, but as 'is 'and was shaking so that one
minute it was pointing to the sky an' the next to the bottom o' the sea,
it wasn't much of a guide to us. Even when he got it steady we couldn't
see anything, till all of a sudden, about two miles off, something like
a telegraph pole stuck up out of the water for a few seconds, and then
ducked down again and made straight for the ship.
"Sam was the fust to speak, and, without wasting time stuttering or
stammering, he said he'd go down and see about that bit o' bread, an' he
went afore the skipper or the mate could stop 'im.
"In less than 'arf a minute there was only the three officers an' me on
deck. The second mate was holding the wheel, the skipper was holding his
breath, and the first mate was holding me. It was one o' the most
exciting times I ever had.
"'Better fire the gun at it,' ses the skipper, in a trembling voice,
looking at the little brass cannon we had for signalling.
"'Better not give him any cause for offence,' ses the mate, shaking his
head.
"'I wonder whether it eats men,' ses the skipper. 'Perhaps it'll come
for some of us.'
"'There ain't many on deck for it to choose from,' ses the mate, looking
at 'im significant like.
"'That's true,' ses the skipper, very thoughtful; 'I'll go an' send all
hands on deck. As captain, it's my duty not to leave the ship till the
LAST, if I can anyways help it.'
"How he got them on deck has always been a wonder to me, but he did it.
He was a brutal sort o' a man at the best o' times, an' he carried on so
much that I s'pose they thought even the sarpint couldn't be worse.
Anyway, up they came, an' we all stood in a crowd watching the sarpint
as it came closer and closer.
"We reckoned it to be about a hundred yards long, an' it was about the
most awful-looking creetur you could ever imagine. If you took all the
ugliest things in the earth and mixed 'em up--gorillas an' the like--
you'd only make a hangel compared to what that was. It just hung off our
quarter, keeping up with us, and every now and then it would open its
mouth and let us see about four yards down its throat.
"'It seems peaceable,' whispers the fust mate, arter awhile.
"'P'raps it ain't hungry,' ses the skipper. 'We'd better not let it get
peckish. Try it with a loaf o' bread.'
"The cook went below and fetched up half-a-dozen, an' one o' the chaps,
plucking up courage, slung it over the side, an' afore you could say
'Jack Robinson' the sarpint had woffled it up an' was looking for more.
It stuck its head up and came close to the side just like the swans in
Victoria Park, an' it kept that game up until it had 'ad ten loaves an'
a hunk o' pork.
"'I'm afraid we're encouraging it,' ses the skipper, looking at it as it
swam alongside with an eye as big as a saucer cocked on the ship.
"'P'raps it'll go away soon if we don't take no more notice of it,' ses
the mate. 'Just pretend it isn't here.'
"Well, we did pretend as well as we could; but everybody hugged the port
side o' the ship, and was ready to bolt down below at the shortest
notice; and at last, when the beast got craning its neck up over the
side as though it was looking for something, we gave it some more grub.
We thought if we didn't give it he might take it, and take it off the
wrong shelf, so to speak. But, as the mate said, it was encouraging it,
and long arter it was dark we could hear it snorting and splashing
behind us, until at last it 'ad such an effect on us the mate sent one
o' the chaps down to rouse the skipper.
"'I don't think it'll do no 'arm,' ses the skipper, peering over the
side, and speaking as though he knew all about sea-sarpints and their
ways.
"'S'pose it puts its 'ead over the side and takes one o' the men,' ses
the mate.
"'Let me know at once,' ses the skipper firmly; an' he went below agin
and left us.
"Well, I was jolly glad when eight bells struck, an' I went below; an'
if ever I hoped anything I hoped that when I go up that ugly brute would
have gone, but, instead o' that, when I went on deck it was playing
alongside like a kitten a'most, an' one o' the chaps told me as the
skipper had been feeding it agin.
"'It's a wonderful animal,' ses the skipper, 'an' there's none of you
now but has seen the sea-sarpint; but I forbid any man here to say a
word about it when we get ashore.'
"'Why not, sir?' ses the second mate.
"'Becos you wouldn't be believed,' said the skipper sternly. 'You might
all go ashore and kiss the Book an' make affidavits an' not a soul 'ud
believe you. The comic papers 'ud make fun of it, and the respectable
papers 'ud say it was seaweed or gulls.'
"Why not take it to New York with us?' ses the fust mate suddenly.
"'What?' ses the skipper.
"'Feed it every day,' ses the mate, getting excited, 'and bait a couple
of shark hooks and keep 'em ready, together with some wire rope. Git 'im
to foller us as far as he will, and then hook him. We might git him in
alive and show him at a sovereign a head. Anyway, we can take in his
carcase if we manage it properly.'
"'By Jove! if we only could,' ses the skipper, getting excited too.
"'We can try,' ses the mate. 'Why, we could have noosed it this mornin'
if we had liked; and if it breaks the lines we must blow its head to
pieces with the gun.'
"It seemed a most eggstraordinary thing to try and catch it that way;
but the beast was so tame, and stuck so close to us, that it wasn't
quite so ridikilous as it seemed at fust.
"Arter a couple o' days nobody minded the animal a bit, for it was about
the most nervous thing of its size you ever saw. It hadn't got the soul
of a mouse; and one day when the second mate, just for a lark, took the
line of the foghorn in his hand and tooted it a bit, it flung up its
'ead in a scared sort o' way, and, after backing a bit, turned clean
round and bolted.
"I thought the skipper 'ud have gone mad. He chucked over loaves o'
bread, bits o' beef and pork, an' scores o' biskits, and by-and-bye,
when the brute plucked up heart an' came arter us again, he fairly
beamed with joy. Then he gave orders that nobody was to touch the horn
for any reason whatever, not even if there was a fog, or chance of
collision, or anything of the kind; an' he also gave orders that the
bells wasn't to be struck, but that the bosen was just to shove 'is 'ead
in the fo'c's'le and call 'em out instead.
"Arter three days had passed, and the thing was still follering us,
everybody made certain of taking it to New York, an' I b'leeve if it
hadn't been for Joe Cooper the question about the sea-sarpint would ha'
been settled long ago. He was a most eggstraordinary ugly chap was Joe.
He had a perfic cartoon of a face, an' he was so delikit-minded and
sensitive about it that if a chap only stopped in the street and
whistled as he passed him, or pointed him out to a friend, he didn't
like it. He told me once when I was symperthizing with him, that the
only time a woman ever spoke civilly to him was one night down Poplar
way in a fog, an' he was so 'appy about it that they both walked into
the canal afore he knew where they was.
"On the fourth morning, when we was only about three days from Sandy
Hook, the skipper got out o' bed wrong side, an' when he went on deck he
was ready to snap at anybody, an' as luck would have it, as he walked a
bit forrard, he sees Joe a-sticking his phiz over the side looking at
the sarpint.
"'What the d-- are you doing?' shouts the skipper, 'What do you mean by
it?'
"'Mean by what, sir?' asks Joe.
"'Putting your black ugly face over the side o' the ship an' frightening
my sea-sarpint!' bellows the skipper, 'You know how easy it's skeered.'
"'Frightening the sea-sarpint?' ses Joe, trembling all over, an' turning
very white.
"'If I see that face o' yours over the side agin, my lad,' ses the
skipper very fierce, 'I'll give it a black eye. Now cut!'
"Joe cut, an' the skipper, having worked off some of his ill-temper,
went aft again and began to chat with the mate quite pleasant like. I
was down below at the time, an' didn't know anything about it for hours
arter, and then I heard it from one o' the firemen. He comes up to me
very mysterious like, an' ses, 'Bill,' he ses, 'you're a pal o' Joe's;
come down here an' see what you can make of 'im.'
"Not knowing what he meant, I follered 'im below to the engine-room, an'
there was Joe sitting on a bucket staring wildly in front of 'im, and
two or three of 'em standing round looking at 'im with their 'eads on
one side.
"'He's been like that for three hours,' ses the second engineer in a
whisper, 'dazed like.'
"As he spoke Joe gave a little shudder; 'Frighten the sea-sarpint!' ses
he, 'O Lord!'
"'It's turned his brain,' ses one o' the firemen, 'he keeps saying
nothing but that.'
"'If we could only make 'im cry,' ses the second engineer, who had a
brother what was a medical student, 'it might save his reason. But how
to do it, that's the question.'
"'Speak kind to 'im, sir,' ses the fireman. 'I'll have a try if you
don't mind.' He cleared his throat first, an' then he walks over to Joe
and puts his hand on his shoulder an' ses very soft an' pitiful like:
"'Don't take on, Joe, don't take on, there's many a ugly mug 'ides a
good 'art,'
"Afore he could think o" anything else to say, Joe ups with his fist an'
gives 'im one in the ribs as nearly broke 'em. Then he turns away 'is
'ead an' shivers again, an' the old dazed look come back.
"'Joe,' I ses, shaking him, 'Joe!'
"'Frightened the sea-sarpint!' whispers Joe, staring.
"'Joe,' I ses, 'Joe. You know me, I'm your pal, Bill.'
"'Ay, ay,' ses Joe, coming round a bit.
"'Come away,' I ses, 'come an' git to bed, that's the best place for
you.'
"I took 'im by the sleeve, and he gets up quiet an' obedient and follers
me like a little child. I got 'im straight into 'is bunk, an' arter a
time he fell into a soft slumber, an' I thought the worst had passed,
but I was mistaken. He got up in three hours' time an' seemed all right,
'cept that he walked about as though he was thinking very hard about
something, an' before I could make out what it was he had a fit.
"He was in that fit ten minutes, an' he was no sooner out o' that one
than he was in another. In twenty-four hours he had six full-sized fits,
and I'll allow I was fairly puzzled. What pleasure he could find in
tumbling down hard and stiff an' kicking at everybody an' everything I
couldn't see. He'd be standing quiet and peaceable like one minute, and
the next he'd catch hold o' the nearest thing to him and have a bad fit,
and lie on his back and kick us while we was trying to force open his
hands to pat 'em.
"The other chaps said the skipper's insult had turned his brain, but I
wasn't quite so soft, an' one time when he was alone I put it to him.
"'Joe, old man,' I ses, 'you an' me's been very good pals.'
"'Ay, ay,' ses he, suspicious like.
"'Joe,' I whispers, 'what's yer little game?'
"'Wodyermean?' ses he, very short.
"'I mean the fits,' ses I, looking at 'im very steady, 'It's no good
looking hinnercent like that, 'cos I see yer chewing soap with my own
eyes.'
"'Soap,' ses Joe, in a nasty sneering way, 'you wouldn't reckernise a
piece if you saw it.'
"Arter that I could see there was nothing to be got out of 'im, an' I
just kept my eyes open and watched. The skipper didn't worry about his
fits, 'cept that he said he wasn't to let the sarpint see his face when
he was in 'em for fear of scaring it; an' when the mate wanted to leave
him out o' the watch, he ses, 'No, he might as well have fits while at
work as well as anywhere else.'
"We were about twenty-four hours from port, an' the sarpint was still
following us; and at six o'clock in the evening the officers puffected
all their arrangements for ketching the creetur at eight o'clock next
morning. To make quite sure of it an extra watch was kept on deck all
night to chuck it food every half-hour; an' when I turned in at ten
o'clock that night it was so close I could have reached it with a
clothes-prop.
"I think I'd been abed about 'arf-an-hour when I was awoke by the most
infernal row I ever heard. The foghorn was going incessantly, an' there
was a lot o' shouting and running about on deck. It struck us all as 'ow
the sarpint was gitting tired o' bread, and was misbehaving himself,
consequently we just shoved our 'eds out o' the fore-scuttle and
listened. All the hullaballoo seemed to be on the bridge, an' as we
didn't see the sarpint there we plucked up courage and went on deck.
"Then we saw what had happened. Joe had 'ad another fit while at the
wheel, and, NOT KNOWING WHAT HE WAS DOING, had clutched the line of the
foghorn, and was holding on to it like grim death, and kicking right and
left. The skipper was in his bedclothes, raving worse than Joe; and just
as we got there Joe came round a bit, and, letting go o' the line, asked
in a faint voice what the foghorn was blowing for. I thought the skipper
'ud have killed him; but the second mate held him back, an', of course,
when things quieted down a bit, an' we went to the side, we found the
sea-sarpint had vanished.
"We stayed there all that night, but it warn't no use. When day broke
there wasn't the slightest trace of it, an' I think the men was as sorry
to lose it as the officers. All 'cept Joe, that is, which shows how
people should never be rude, even to the humblest; for I'm sartin that
if the skipper hadn't hurt his feelings the way he did we should now
know as much about the sea-sarpint as we do about our own brothers."
MRS. BUNKER'S CHAPERON
Matilda stood at the open door of a house attached to a wharf situated
in that dreary district which bears the high-sounding name of "St.
Katharine's."
Work was over for the day. A couple of unhorsed vans were pushed up the
gangway by the side of the house, and the big gate was closed. The
untidy office which occupied the ground-floor was deserted, except for a
grey-bearded "housemaid" of sixty, who was sweeping it through with a
broom, and indulging in a few sailorly oaths at the choking qualities of
the dust he was raising.
The sound of advancing footsteps stopped at the gate, a small flap-door
let in it flew open, and Matilda Bunker's open countenance took a
pinkish hue, as a small man in jersey and blue coat, with a hard round
hat exceeding high in the crown, stepped inside.
"Good evening, Mrs. Bunker, ma'am," said he, coming slowly up to her.
"Good evening, captain," said the lady, who was Mrs. only by virtue of
her age and presence.
"Fresh breeze," said the man in the high round hat. "If this lasts we'll
be in Ipswich in no time."
Mrs. Bunker assented.
"Beautiful the river is at present," continued the captain. "Everything
growing splendid."
"In the river?" asked the mystified Mrs. Bunker.
"On the banks," said the captain; "the trees, by Sheppey, and all round
there. Now, why don't you say the word, and come? There's a cabin like a
new pin ready for you to sit in--for cleanness, I mean--and every
accommodation you could require. Sleep like a humming-top you will, if
you come."
"Humming-top?" queried Mrs. Bunker archly.
"Any top," said the captain. "Come, make up your mind. We shan't sail
afore nine."
"It don't look right," said the lady, who was sorely tempted. "But the
missus says I may go if I like, so I'll just go and get my box ready.
I'll be down on the jetty at nine."
"Ay, ay," said the skipper, smiling, "me and Bill'll just have a snooze
till then. So long."
"So long," said Matilda.
"So long," repeated the amorous skipper, and turning round to bestow
another ardent glance upon the fair one at the door, crashed into the
waggon.
The neighbouring clocks were just striking nine in a sort of yelping
chorus to the heavy boom of Big Ben, which came floating down the river,
as Mrs. Bunker and the night watchman, staggering under a load of
luggage, slowly made their way on to the jetty. The barge, for such was
the craft in question, was almost level with the planks, while the
figures of two men darted to and fro in all the bustle of getting under
way.
"Bill," said the watchman, addressing the mate, "bear a hand with this
box, and be careful, it's got the wedding clothes inside."
The watchman was so particularly pleased with this little joke that in
place of giving the box to Bill he put it down and sat on it, shaking
convulsively with his hand over his mouth, while the blushing Matilda
and the discomfited captain strove in vain to appear unconcerned.
The packages were rather a tight squeeze for the cabin, but they managed
to get them in, and the skipper, with a threatening look at his mate,
who was exchanging glances of exquisite humour with the watchman, gave
his hand to Mrs. Bunker and helped her aboard.
"Welcome on the Sir Edmund Lyons, Mrs. Bunker," said he. "Bill, kick
that dawg back."
"Stop!" said Mrs. Bunker hastily, "that's my chapperong."
"Your what?" said the skipper. "It's a dawg, Mrs. Bunker, an' I won't
have no dawgs aboard my craft."
"Bill," said Mrs. Bunker, "fetch my box up again."
"Leastways," the captain hastened to add, "unless it's any friend of
yours, Mrs. Bunker."
"It's chaperoning me," said Matilda; "it wouldn't be proper for a lady
to go a v'y'ge with two men without somebody to look after her."
"That's right, Sam," said the watchman sententiously. "You ought to know
that at your age."
"Why, we're looking after her," said the simple-minded captain. "Me an'
Bill."
"Take care Bill don't cut you out," said the watchman in a hoarse
whisper, distinctly audible to all. "He's younger nor what you are, Sam,
an' the wimmen are just crazy arter young men. 'Sides which, he's a
finer man altogether. An' you've had ONE wife a'ready, Sam."
"Cast off!" said the skipper impatiently. "Cast off! Stand by there,
Bill!"
"Ay, ay!" said Bill, seizing a boat-hook, and the lines fell into the
water with a splash as the barge was pushed out into the tide.
Mrs. Bunker experienced the usual trouble of landsmen aboard ship, and
felt herself terribly in the way as the skipper divided his attentions
between the tiller and helping Bill with the sail. Meantime the barge
had bothered most of the traffic by laying across the river, and when
the sail was hoisted had got under the lee of a huge warehouse and
scarcely moved.
"We'll feel the breeze directly," said Captain Codd. "Then you'll see
what she can do."
As he spoke, the barge began to slip through the water as a light breeze
took her huge sail and carried her into the stream, where she fell into
line with other craft who were just making a start.
At a pleasant pace, with wind and tide, the Sir Edmund Lyons proceeded
on its way, her skipper cocking his eye aloft and along her decks to
point out various beauties to his passenger which she might otherwise
have overlooked. A comfortable supper was spread on the deck, and Mrs.
Bunker began to think regretfully of the pleasure she had missed in
taking up barge-sailing so late in life.
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