Books: Many Cargoes
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W.W. Jacobs >> Many Cargoes
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"That's the ticket, cap'n," said the man. "Lord lumme, you'll 'ave
everybody falling in love with you."
"Hurry up," said Tommy, dancing with impatience. "Hurry up."
The skipper, dazed and wild-eyed, stood still while his two assistants
hastily dressed him, bickering somewhat about details as they did so.
"He ought to be tight-laced, I tell you," said the man.
"He can't be tight-laced without stays," said Tommy scornfully. "You
ought to know that."
"Ho, can't he," said the other, discomfited. "You know too much for a
young-un. Well, put a bit o' line round 'im then."
"We can't wait for a line," said Tommy, who was standing on tip-toe to
tie the skipper's bonnet on. "Now tie the scarf over his chin to hide
his beard, and put this veil on. It's a good job he ain't got a
moustache."
The other complied, and then fell back a pace or two to gaze at his
handiwork. "Strewth, though I sees it as shouldn't, you look a treat!"
he remarked complacently. "Now, young-un, take 'old of his arm. Go up
the back streets, and if you see anybody looking at you, call 'im Mar."
The two set off, after the man, who was a born realist, had tried to
snatch a kiss from the skipper on the threshold. Fortunately for the
success of the venture, it was pelting with rain, and, though a few
people gazed curiously at the couple as they went hastily along, they
were unmolested, and gained the wharf in safety, arriving just in time
to see the schooner shoving off from the side.
At the sight the skipper held up his skirts and ran. "Ahoy!" he shouted.
"Wait a minute."
The mate gave one look of blank astonishment at the extraordinary
figure, and then turned away; but at that moment the stern came within
jumping distance of the wharf, and uncle and nephew, moved with one
impulse leaped for it and gained the deck in safety.
"Why didn't you wait when I hailed you?" demanded the skipper fiercely.
"How was I to know it was you?" inquired the mate surlily, as he
realised his defeat. "I thought it was the Empress of Rooshia."
The skipper stared at him dumbly.
"An' if you take my advice," said the mate, with a sneer, "you'll keep
them things on. _I_ never see you look so well in anything afore."
"I want to borrow some o' your clothes, Bob," said the skipper, eyeing
him steadily.
"Where's your own?" asked the other.
"I don't know," said the skipper. "I was took with a fit last night,
Bob, and when I woke up this morning they were gone. Somebody must have
took advantage of my helpless state and taken 'em."
"Very likely," said the mate, turning away to shout an order to the
crew, who were busy setting sail.
"Where are they, old man?" inquired the skipper.
"How should I know?" asked the other, becoming interested in the men
again.
"I mean YOUR clothes," said the skipper, who was fast losing his temper.
"Oh, mine?" said the mate. "Well, as a matter o' fact, I don't like
lending my clothes. I'm rather pertickler. You might have a fit in
THEM."
"You won't lend 'em to me?" asked the skipper.
"I won't," said the mate, speaking loudly, and frowning significantly at
the crew, who were listening.
"Very good," said the skipper. "Ted, come here. Where's your other
clothes?"
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Ted, shifting uneasily from one leg to the
other, and glancing at the mate for support; "but they ain't fit for the
likes of you to wear, sir." "I'm the best judge of that," said the
skipper sharply. "Fetch 'em up."
"Well, to tell the truth, sir," said Ted, "I'm like the mate. I'm only a
poor sailor-man, but I wouldn't lend my clothes to the Queen of
England."
"You fetch up them clothes," roared the skipper snatching off his bonnet
and flinging it on the deck. "Fetch 'em up at once. D'ye think I'm going
about in these petticuts?"
"They're my clothes," muttered Ted doggedly.
"Very well, then, I'll have Bill's," said the skipper. "But mind you, my
lad, I'll make you pay for this afore I've done with you. Bill's the
only honest man aboard this ship. Gimme your hand, Bill, old man."
"I'm with them two," said Bill gruffly, as he turned away.
The skipper, biting his lips with fury, turned from one to the other,
and then, with a big oath, walked forward. Before he could reach the
fo'c'sle Bill and Ted dived down before him, and, by the time he had
descended, sat on their chests side by side confronting him. To threats
and appeals alike they turned a deaf ear, and the frantic skipper was
compelled at last to go on deck again, still encumbered with the hated
skirts.
"Why don't you go an' lay down," said the mate, "an' I'll send you down
a nice cup o' hot tea. You'll get histericks, if you go on like that."
"I'll knock your 'ead off if you talk to me," said the skipper.
"Not you," said the mate cheerfully; "you ain't big enough. Look at that
pore fellow over there."
The skipper looked in the direction indicated, and, swelling with
impotent rage, shook his fist fiercely at a red-faced man with grey
whiskers, who was wafting innumerable tender kisses from the bridge of a
passing steamer.
"That's right," said the mate approvingly; "don't give 'im no
encouragement. Love at first sight ain't worth having."
The skipper, suffering severely from suppressed emotion, went below, and
the crew, after waiting a little while to make sure that he was not
coming up again, made their way quietly to the mate.
"If we can only take him to Battlesea in this rig it'll be all right,"
said the latter. "You chaps stand by me. His slippers and sou'-wester is
the only clothes he's got aboard. Chuck every needle you can lay your
hands on overboard, or else he'll git trying to make a suit out of a
piece of old sail or something. If we can only take him to Mr. Pearson
like this, it won't be so bad after all."
While these arrangements were in hand above, the skipper and the boy
were busy over others below. Various startling schemes propounded by the
skipper for obtaining possession of his men's attire were rejected by
the youth as unlawful, and, what was worse, impracticable. For a couple
of hours they discussed ways and means, but only ended in diatribes
against the mean ways of the crew; and the skipper, whose head ached
still from his excesses, fell into a state of sullen despair at length,
and sat silent.
"By Jove, Tommy, I've got it," he cried suddenly, starting up and
hitting the table with his fist. "Where's your other suit?"
"That ain't no bigger that this one," said Tommy.
"You git it out," said the skipper, with a knowing toss of his head.
"Ah, there we are. Now go in my state-room and take those off."
The wondering Tommy, who thought that great grief had turned his
kinsman's brain, complied, and emerged shortly afterwards in a blanket,
bringing his clothes under his arm.
"Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" inquired the skipper, with a
big smile.
"No."
"Fetch me the scissors, then. Now do you know what I'm going to do?"
"Cut up the two suits and make 'em into one," hazarded the horror-
stricken Tommy. "Here, stop it! Leave off!"
The skipper pushed him impatiently off, and, placing the clothes on the
table, took up the scissors, and, with a few slashing strokes, cut them
garments into their component parts.
"What am _I_ to wear," said Tommy, beginning to blubber. "You didn't
think of that?"
"What are you to wear, you selfish young pig?" said the skipper sternly.
"Always thinking about yourself. Go and git some needles and thread, and
if there's any left over, and you're a good boy, I'll see whether I
can't make something for you out of the leavings."
"There ain't no needles here," whined Tommy, after a lengthened search.
"Go down the fo'c'sle and git the case of sail-makers' needles, then,"
said the skipper, "Don't let anyone see what you're after, an' some
thread."
"Well, why couldn't you let me go in my clothes before you cut 'em up,"
moaned Tommy. "I don't like going up in this blanket. They'll laugh at
me."
"You go at once!" thundered the skipper, and, turning his back on him,
whistled softly, and began to arrange the pieces of cloth.
"Laugh away, my lads," he said cheerfully, as an uproarious burst of
laughter greeted the appearance of Tommy on deck. "Wait a bit."
He waited himself for nearly twenty minutes, at the end of which time
Tommy, treading on his blanket, came flying down the companion-ladder,
and rolled into the cabin.
"There ain't a needle aboard the ship," he said solemnly, as he picked
himself up and rubbed his head. "I've looked everywhere."
"What?" roared the skipper, hastily concealing the pieces of cloth.
"Here, Ted! Ted!"
"Ay, ay, sir!" said Ted, as he came below.
"I want a sail-maker's needle," said the skipper glibly. "I've got a
rent in this skirt."
"I broke the last one yesterday," said Ted, with an evil grin.
"Any other needle then," said the skipper, trying to conceal his
emotion.
"I don't believe there's such a thing aboard the ship," said Ted, who
had obeyed the mate's thoughtful injunction. "NOR thread. I was only
saying so to the mate yesterday."
The skipper sank again to the lowest depths, waved him away, and then,
getting on a corner of the locker, fell into a gloomy reverie.
"It's a pity you do things in such a hurry," said Tommy, sniffing
vindictively. "You might have made sure of the needle before you spoiled
my clothes. There's two of us going about ridiculous now."
The master of the Sarah Jane allowed this insolence to pass unheeded. It
is in moments of deep distress that the mind of man, naturally reverting
to solemn things, seeks to improve the occasion by a lecture. The
skipper, chastened by suffering and disappointment, stuck his right hand
in his pocket, after a lengthened search for it, and gently bidding the
blanketed urchin in front of him to sit down, began:
"You see what comes of drink and cards," he said mournfully. "Instead of
being at the helm of my ship, racing all the other craft down the river,
I'm skulkin' down below here like--like"--
"Like an actress," suggested Tommy.
The skipper eyed him all over. Tommy, unconscious of offence, met his
gaze serenely.
"If," continued the skipper, "at any time you felt like taking too much,
and you stopped with the beer-mug half-way to your lips, and thought of
me sitting in this disgraceful state, what would you do?"
"I dunno," replied Tommy, yawning.
"What would you do?" persisted the skipper, with great expression.
"Laugh, I s'pose," said Tommy, after a moment's thought.
The sound of a well-boxed ear rang through the cabin.
"You're an unnatural, ungrateful little toad," said the skipper
fiercely. "You don't deserve to have a good, kind uncle to look after
you."
"Anybody can have him for me," sobbed the indignant Tommy, as he
tenderly felt his ear. "You look a precious sight more like an aunt than
an uncle."
After firing this shot he vanished in a cloud of blanket, and the
skipper, reluctantly abandoning a hastily-formed resolve of first
flaying him alive and then flinging him overboard, sat down again and
lit his pipe.
Once out of the river he came on deck again, and, ignoring by a great
effort the smiles of the crew and the jibes of the mate, took command.
The only alteration he made in his dress was to substitute his sou'-
wester for the bonnet, and in this guise he did his work, while the
aggrieved Tommy hopped it in blankets. The three days at sea passed like
a horrid dream. So covetous was his gaze, that the crew instinctively
clutched their nether garments and looked to the buttoning of their
coats as they passed him. He saw coats in the mainsail, and fashioned
phantom trousers out of the flying jib, and towards the end began to
babble of blue serges and mixed tweeds. Oblivious of fame, he had
resolved to enter the harbour of Battlesea by night; but it was not to
be. Near home the wind dropped, and the sun was well up before Battlesea
came into view, a grey bank on the starboard bow.
Until within a mile of the harbour, the skipper held on, and then his
grasp on the wheel relaxed somewhat, and he looked round anxiously for
the mate.
"Where's Bob?" he shouted.
"He's very ill, sir," said Ted, shaking his head.
"Ill?" gasped the startled skipper. "Here, take the wheel a minute."
He handed it over, and grasping his skirts went hastily below. The mate
was half lying, half sitting, in his bunk, groaning dismally.
"What's the matter?" inquired the skipper.
"I'm dying," said the mate. "I keep being tied up all in knots inside. I
can't hold myself straight."
The other cleared his throat. "You'd better take off your clothes and
lie down a bit," he said kindly. "Let me help you off with them."
"No--don't--trouble," panted the mate.
"It ain't no trouble," said the skipper, in a trembling voice.
"No, I'll keep 'em on," said the mate faintly. "I've always had an idea
I'd like to die in my clothes. It may be foolish, but I can't help it."
"You'll have your wish some day, never fear, you infernal rascal,"
shouted the overwrought skipper. "You're shamming sickness to make me
take the ship into port."
"Why shouldn't you take her in," asked the mate, with an air of innocent
surprise. "It's your duty as cap'n. You'd better get above now. The bar
is always shifting."
The skipper, restraining himself by a mighty effort, went on deck again,
and, taking the wheel, addressed the crew. He spoke feelingly of the
obedience men owed their superior officers, and the moral obligation
they were under to lend them their trousers when they required them. He
dwelt on the awful punishments awarded for mutiny, and proved clearly,
that to allow the master of a ship to enter port in petticoats was
mutiny of the worst type. He then sent them below for their clothing.
They were gone such a long time that it was palpable to the meanest
intellect that they did not intend to bring it. Meantime the harbour
widened out before him.
There were two or three people on the quay as the Sarah Jane came within
hailing distance. By the time she had passed the lantern at the end of
it there were two or three dozen, and the numbers were steadily
increasing at the rate of three persons for every five yards she made.
Kind-hearted, humane men, anxious that their friends should not lose so
great and cheap a treat, bribed small and reluctant boys with pennies to
go in search of them, and by the time the schooner reached her berth, a
large proportion of the population of the port was looking over each
other's shoulders and shouting foolish and hilarious inquiries to the
skipper. The news reached the owner, and he came hurrying down to the
ship, just as the skipper, regardless of the heated remonstrances of the
sightseers, was preparing to go below.
Mr. Pearson was a stout man, and he came down exploding with wrath. Then
he saw the apparition, and mirth overcame him. It became necessary for
three stout fellows to act as buttresses, and the more indignant the
skipper looked the harder their work became. Finally he was assisted, in
a weak state, and laughing hysterically, to the deck of the schooner,
where he followed the skipper below, and in a voice broken with emotion
demanded an explanation.
"It's the finest sight I ever saw in my life, Bross," he said when the
other had finished. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything. I've been
feeling very low this last week, and it's done me good. Don't talk
nonsense about leaving the ship. I wouldn't lose you for anything after
this, but if you like to ship a fresh mate and crew you can please
yourself. If you'll only come up to the house and let Mrs. Pearson see
you--she's been ailing--I'll give you a couple of pounds. Now, get your
bonnet and come."
THE BOATSWAIN'S WATCH
Captain Polson sat in his comfortable parlour smiling benignly upon his
daughter and sister. His ship, after an absence of eighteen months, was
once more berthed in the small harbour of Barborough, and the captain
was sitting in that state of good-natured affability which invariably
characterised his first appearance after a long absence.
"No news this end, I suppose," he inquired, after a lengthy recital of
most extraordinarily uninteresting adventures.
"Not much," said his sister Jane, looking nervously at her niece. "Young
Metcalfe has gone into partnership with his father."
"I don't want to hear about those sharks," said the captain, waxing red.
"Tell me about honest men."
"Joe Lewis has had a month's imprisonment for stealing fowls," said Miss
Polson meekly. "Mrs. Purton has had twins--dear little fellows they are,
fat as butter!--she has named one of them Polson, after you. The greedy
one."
"Any deaths?" inquired the captain snappishly, as he eyed the innocent
lady suspiciously.
"Poor old Jasper Wheeler has gone," said his sister; "he was very
resigned. He borrowed enough money to get a big doctor from London, and
when he heard that there was no hope for him he said he was just longing
to go, and he was sorry he couldn't take all his dear ones with him.
Mary Hewson is married to Jack Draper, and young Metcalfe's banns go up
for the third time next Sunday."
"I hope he gets a Tartar," said the vindictive captain. "Who's the girl?
Some silly little fool, I know. She ought to be warned!"
"I don't believe in interfering in marriages," said his daughter
Chrissie, shaking her head sagely.
"Oh!" said the captain, staring, "YOU don't! Now you've put your hair up
and taken to wearing long frocks, I suppose you're beginning to think of
it."
"Yes; auntie wants to tell you something!" said his daughter, rising and
crossing the room.
"No, I don't!" said Miss Polson hastily.
"You'd better do it," said Chrissie, giving her a little push, "there's
a dear; I'll go upstairs and lock myself in my room."
The face of the captain, whilst this conversation was passing, was a
study in suppressed emotions. He was a firm advocate for importing the
manners of the quarter-deck into private life, the only drawback being
that he had to leave behind him the language usual in that locality. To
this omission he usually ascribed his failures.
"Sit down, Chrissie," he commanded; "sit down, Jane. Now, miss, what's
all this about?"
"I don't like to tell you," said Chrissie, folding her hands in her lap.
"I know you'll be cross. You're so unreasonable."
The captain stared--frightfully.
"I'm going to be married," said Chrissie suddenly,--"there! To Jack
Metcalfe--there! So you'll have to learn to love him. He's going to try
and love you for my sake." To his sister's dismay the captain got up,
and brandishing his fists walked violently to and fro. By these simple
but unusual means decorum was preserved.
"If you were only a boy," said the captain, when he had regained his
seat, "I should know what to do with you."
"If I were a boy," said Chrissie, who, having braced herself up for the
fray, meant to go through with it, "I shouldn't want to marry Jack.
Don't be silly, father!"
"Jane," said the captain, in a voice which made the lady addressed start
in her chair, "what do you mean by it?"
"It isn't my fault," said Miss Polson feebly. "I told her how it would
be. And it was so gradual; he admired my geraniums at first, and, of
course, I was deceived. There are so many people admire my geraniums;
whether it is because the window has a south aspect"--
"Oh!" said the captain rudely, "that'll do, Jane. If he wasn't a lawyer,
I'd go round and break his neck. Chrissie is only nineteen, and she'll
come for a year's cruise with me. Perhaps the sea air'll strengthen her
head. We'll see who's master in this family."
"I'm sure I don't want to be master," said his daughter, taking a weapon
of fine cambric out of her pocket, and getting ready for action. "I
can't help liking people. Auntie likes him too, don't you, auntie?"
"Yes," said Miss Polson bravely.
"Very good," said the autocrat promptly, "I'll take you both for a
cruise."
"You're making me very un--unhappy," said Chrissie, burying her face in
her handkerchief.
"You'll be more unhappy before I've done with you," said the captain
grimly. "And while I think of it, I'll step round and stop those banns."
His daughter caught him by the arm as he was passing, and laid her face
on his sleeve. "You'll make me look so foolish," she wailed.
"That'll make it easier for you to come to sea with me," said her
father. "Don't cry all over my sleeve. I'm going to see a parson. Run
upstairs and play with your dolls, and if you're a good girl, I'll bring
you in some sweets." He put on his hat, and closing the front door with
a bang, went off to the new rector to knock two years off the age which
his daughter kept for purposes of matrimony. The rector, grieved at such
duplicity in one so young, met him more than half way, and he came out
from him smiling placidly, until his attention was attracted by a young
man on the other side of the road, who was regarding him with manifest
awkwardness.
"Good evening, Captain Polson," he said, crossing the road.
"Oh," said the captain, stopping, "I wanted to speak to you. I suppose
you wanted to marry my daughter while I was out of the way, to save
trouble. Just the manly thing I should have expected of you. I've
stopped the banns, and I'm going to take her for a voyage with me.
You'll have to look elsewhere, my lad."
"The ill feeling is all on your side, captain," said Metcalfe,
reddening.
"Ill feeling!" snorted the captain. "You put me in the witness-box, and
made me a laughing-stock in the place with your silly attempts at jokes,
lost me five hundred pounds, and then try and marry my daughter while
I'm at sea. Ill feeling be hanged!"
"That was business," said the other.
"It was," said the captain, "and this is business too. Mine. I'll look
after it, I'll promise you. I think I know who'll look silly this time.
I'd sooner see my girl in heaven than married to a rascal of a lawyer."
"You'd want good glasses," retorted Metcalfe, who was becoming ruffled.
"I don't want to bandy words with you," said the captain with dignity,
after a long pause, devoted to thinking of something worth bandying.
"You think you're a clever fellow, but I know a cleverer. You're quite
welcome to marry my daughter--if you can."
He turned on his heel, and refusing to listen to any further remarks,
went on his way rejoicing. Arrived home, he lit his pipe, and throwing
himself into an armchair, related his exploits. Chrissie had recourse to
her handkerchief again, more for effect than use, but Miss Polson, who
was a tender soul, took hers out and wept unrestrainedly. At first the
captain took it well enough. It was a tribute to his power, but when
they took to sobbing one against the other, his temper rose, and he
sternly commanded silence.
"I shall be like--this--every day at sea," sobbed Chrissie vindictively,
"only worse; making us all ridiculous."
"Stop that noise directly!" vociferated the captain.
"We c-c-can't," sobbed Miss Polson.
"And we d-don't want to," said Chrissie. "It's all we can do, and we're
going to do it. You'd better g-go out and stop something else. You can't
stop us."
The captain took the advice and went, and in the billiard-room of the
"George" heard some news which set him thinking, and which brought him
back somewhat earlier than he had at first intended. A small group at
his gate broke up into its elements at his approach, and the captain,
following his sister and daughter into the room, sat down and eyed them
severely.
"So you're going to run off to London to get married, are you, miss?" he
said ferociously. "Well, we'll see. You don't go out of my sight until
we sail, and if I catch that pettifogging lawyer round at my gate again,
I'll break every bone in his body, mind that."
For the next three days the captain kept his daughter under observation,
and never allowed her to stir abroad except in his company. The evening
of the third day, to his own great surprise, he spent at a Dorcas. The
company was not congenial, several of the ladies putting their work
away, and glaring frigidly at the intruder; and though they could see
clearly that he was suffering greatly, made no attempt to put him at his
ease. He was very thoughtful all the way home, and the next day took a
partner into the concern, in the shape of his boatswain.
"You understand, Tucker," he concluded, as the hapless seaman stood in a
cringing attitude before Chrissie, "that you never let my daughter out
of your sight. When she goes out you go with her."
"Yessir," said Tucker; "and suppose she tells me to go home, what am I
to do then?"
"You're a fool," said the captain sharply. "It doesn't matter what she
says or does; unless you are in the same room, you are never to be more
than three yards from her."
"Make it four, cap'n," said the boatswain, in a broken voice.
"Three," said the captain; "and mind, she's artful. All girls are, and
she'll try and give you the slip. I've had information given me as to
what's going on. Whatever happens, you are not to leave her."
"I wish you'd get somebody else, sir," said Tucker, very respectfully.
"There's a lot of chaps aboard that'd like the job."
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