Books: Many Cargoes
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W.W. Jacobs >> Many Cargoes
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The skipper eyed him solemnly, but the mate stood firm.
"Arter that," continued the skipper, still watching him suspiciously, "I
remember no more distinctly until this morning, when I found myself
sitting on a step down Poplar way and shiverin', with the morning
newspaper and a crowd round me."
"Morning newspaper!" repeated the mystified mate. "What was that for?"
"Decency. I was wrapped up in it," replied the skipper. "Where I came
from or how I got there I don't know more than Adam. I s'pose I must
have been ill; I seem to remember taking something out of a bottle
pretty often. Some old gentleman in the crowd took me into a shop and
bought me these clothes, an' here I am. My own clo'es and thirty pounds
o' freight money I had in my pocket is all gone."
"Well, I'm hearty glad to see you back," said the mate. "It's quite a
home-coming for you, too. Your missis is down aft."
"My missis? What the devil's she aboard for?" growled the skipper,
successfully controlling his natural gratification at the news.
"She's been with us these last two trips," replied the mate. "She's had
business to settle in London, and she's been going through your lockers
to clear up, like."
"My lockers!" groaned the skipper. "Good heavens! there's things in them
lockers I wouldn't have her see for the world; women are so fussy an' so
fond o' making something out o' nothing. There's a pore female touched a
bit in the upper storey, what's been writing love letters to me,
George."
"Three pore females," said the precise mate; "the missis has got all the
letters tied up with blue ribbon. Very far gone they was, too, poor
creeters."
"George," said the skipper in a broken voice, "I'm a ruined man. I'll
never hear the end o' this. I guess I'll go an' sleep for'ard this
voyage, and lie low. Be keerful you don't let on I'm aboard, an' after
she's home I'll take the ship again, and let the thing leak out gradual.
Come to life bit by bit, so to speak. It wouldn't do to scare her,
George, an' in the meantime I'll try an' think o' some explanation to
tell her. You might be thinking too."
"I'll do what I can," said the mate.
"Crack me up to the old girl all you can; tell her I used to write to
all sorts o' people when I got a drop of drink in me; say how thoughtful
I always was of her. You might tell her about that gold locket I bought
for her an' got robbed of."
"Gold locket?" said the mate in tones of great surprise. "What gold
locket? Fust I've heard of it."
"Any gold locket," said the skipper irritably; "anything you can think
of; you needn't be pertikler. Arter that you can drop little hints about
people being buried in mistake for others, so as to prepare her a bit--I
don't want to scare her."
"Leave it to me," said the mate.
"I'll go an' turn in now, I'm dead tired," said the skipper. "I s'pose
Joe and the boy's asleep?"
George nodded, and meditatively watched the other as he pushed back the
fore-scuttle and drew it after him as he descended. Then a thought
struck the mate, and he ran hastily forward and threw his weight on the
scuttle just in time to frustrate the efforts of Joe and the boy, who
were coming on deck to tell him a new ghost story. The confusion below
was frightful, the skipper's cry of "It's only me, Joe," not possessing
the soothing effect which he intended. They calmed down at length, after
their visitor had convinced them that he really was flesh and blood and
fists, and the boy's attention being directed to a small rug in the
corner of the foc's'le, the skipper took his bunk and was soon fast
asleep.
He slept so soundly that the noise of the vessel getting under way
failed to rouse him, and she was well out in the open river when he
awoke, and after cautiously protruding his head through the scuttle,
ventured on deck. For some time he stood eagerly sniffing the cool,
sweet air, and then, after a look round, gingerly approached the mate,
who was at the helm.
"Give me a hold on her," said he.
"You had better get below again, if you don't want the missis to see
you," said the mate. "She's gettin' up--nasty temper she's in too."
The skipper went forward grumbling. "Send down a good breakfast,
George," said he.
To his great discomfort the mate suddenly gave a low whistle, and
regarded him with a look of blank dismay.
"Good gracious!" he cried, "I forgot all about it. Here's a pretty
kettle of fish--well, well."
"Forgot about what?" asked the skipper uneasily.
"The crew take their meals in the cabin now," replied the mate, "'cos
the missis says it's more cheerful for 'em, and she's l'arning 'em to
eat their wittles properly."
The skipper looked at him aghast. "You'll have to smuggle me up some
grub," he said at length. "I'm not going to starve for nobody."
"Easier said than done," said the mate. "The missis has got eyes like
needles; still, I'll do the best I can for you. Look out! Here she
comes."
The skipper fled hastily, and, safe down below, explained to the crew
how they were to secrete portions of their breakfast for his benefit.
The amount of explanation required for so simple a matter was
remarkable, the crew manifesting a denseness which irritated him almost
beyond endurance. They promised, however, to do the best they could for
him, and returned in triumph after a hearty meal, and presented their
enraged commander with a few greasy crumbs and the tail of a bloater.
For the next two days the wind was against them, and they made but
little progress. Mrs. Harbolt spent most of her time on deck, thereby
confining her husband to his evil-smelling quarters below. Matters were
not improved for him by his treatment of the crew, who, resenting his
rough treatment of them, were doing their best to starve him into
civility. Most of the time he kept in his bunk--or rather Jemmy's bunk--
a prey to despondency and hunger of an acute type, venturing on deck
only at night to prowl uneasily about and bemoan his condition.
On the third night Mrs. Harbolt was later in retiring than usual, and it
was nearly midnight before the skipper, who had been indignantly waiting
for her to go, was able to get on deck and hold counsel with the mate.
"I've done what I could for you," said the latter, fishing a crust from
his pocket, which Harbolt took thankfully. "I've told her all the yarns
I could think of about people turning up after they was buried and the
like."
"What'd she say?" queried the skipper eagerly, between his bites.
"Told me not to talk like that," said the mate; "said it showed a want
o' trust in Providence to hint at such things. Then I told her what you
asked me about the locket, only I made it a bracelet worth ten pounds."
"That pleased her?" suggested the other hopefully.
The mate shook his head. "She said I was a born fool to believe you'd
been robbed of it," he replied. "She said what you'd done was to give it
to one o' them pore females. She's been going on frightful about it all
the afternoon--won't talk o' nothing else."
"I don't know what's to be done," groaned the skipper despondently. "I
shall be dead afore we get to port this wind holds. Go down and get me
something to eat George; I'm starving."
"Everything's locked up, as I told you afore," said the mate.
"As the master of this ship," said the skipper, drawing himself up, "I
order you to go down and get me something to eat. You can tell the
missus it's for you if she says anything."
"I'm hanged if I will," said the mate sturdily. "Why don't you go down
and have it out with her like a man? She can't eat you."
"I'm not going to," said the other shortly. "I'm a determined man, and
when I say a thing I mean it. It's going to be broken to her gradual, as
I said; I don't want her to be scared, poor thing."
"I know who'd be scared the most," murmured the mate.
The skipper looked at him fiercely, and then sat down wearily on the
hatches with his hands between his knees, rising, after a time, to get
the dipper and drink copiously from the water-cask. Then, replacing it
with a sigh, he bade the mate a surly good-night and went below.
To his dismay he found when he awoke in the morning that what little
wind there was had dropped in the night, and the billy-boy was just
rising and falling lazily on the water in a fashion most objectionable
to an empty stomach. It was the last straw, and he made things so
uncomfortable below that the crew were glad to escape on deck, where
they squatted down in the bows, and proceeded to review a situation
which was rapidly becoming unbearable.
"I've 'ad enough of it, Joe," grumbled the boy. "I'm sore all over with
sleeping on the floor, and the old man's temper gets wuss and wuss. I'm
going to be ill."
"Whaffor?" queried Joe dully.
"You tell the missus I'm down below ill. Say you think I'm dying,"
responded the infant Machiavelli, "then you'll see somethink if you keep
your eyes open."
He went below again, not without a little nervousness, and, clambering
into Joe's bunk, rolled over on his back and gave a deep groan.
"What's the matter with YOU!" growled the skipper, who was lying in the
other bunk staving off the pangs of hunger with a pipe.
"I'm very ill--dying," said Jemmy, with another groan.
"You'd better stay in bed and have your breakfast brought down here,
then," said the skipper kindly.
"I don't want no breakfast," said Jem faintly.
"That's no reason why you shouldn't have it sent down, you unfeeling
little brute," said the skipper indignantly. "You tell Joe to bring you
down a great plate o' cold meat and pickles, and some coffee; that's
what you want."
"All right, sir," said Jemmy. "I hope they won't let the missus come
down here, in case it's something catching. I wouldn't like her to be
took bad."
"Eh?" said the skipper, in alarm. "Certainly not. Here, you go up and
die on deck. Hurry up with you."
"I can't; I'm too weak," said Jemmy.
"You get up on deck at once; d'ye hear me?" hissed the skipper, in
alarm.
"I c-c-c-can't help it," sobbed Jemmy, who was enjoying the situation
amazingly. "I b'lieve it's sleeping on the hard floor's snapped
something inside me."
"If you don't go I'll take you," said the skipper, and he was about to
rise to put his threat into execution when a shadow fell across the
opening, and a voice, which thrilled him to the core, said softly,
"Jemmy!"
"Yes 'm?" said Jemmy languidly, as the skipper flattened himself in his
bunk and drew the clothes over him.
"How do you feel?" inquired Mrs. Harbolt.
"Bad all over," said Jemmy. "Oh, don't come down, mum--please don't."
"Rubbish!" said Mrs. Harbolt tartly, as she came slowly and carefully
down backwards. "What a dark hole this is, Jemmy. No wonder you're ill.
Put your tongue out."
Jemmy complied.
"I can't see properly here," murmured the lady, "but it looks very
large. S'pose you go in the other bunk, Jemmy. It's a good bit higher
than this, and you'd get more air and be more comfortable altogether."
"Joe wouldn't like it, mum," said the boy anxiously. The last glimpse he
had had of the skipper's face did not make him yearn to share his bed
with him.
"Stuff an' nonsense!" said Mrs. Harbolt hotly. "Who's Joe, I'd like to
know? Out you come."
"I can't move, mum," said Jemmy firmly.
"Nonsense!" said the lady. "I'll just put it straight for you first,
then in it you go."
"No, don't, mum," shouted Jemmy, now thoroughly alarmed at the success
of his plot. "There, there's a gentleman in that bunk. A gentleman we
brought from London for a change of sea air."
"My goodness gracious!" ejaculated the surprised Mrs. Harbolt. "I never
did. Why, what's he had to eat?"
"He--he--didn't want nothing to eat," said Jemmy, with a woeful
disregard for facts.
"What's the matter with him?" inquired Mrs. Harbolt, eyeing the bunk
curiously. "What's his name? Who is he?"
"He's been lost a long time," said Jemmy, "and he's forgotten who he is--
he's a oldish man with a red face an' a little white whisker all round
it--a very nice-looking man, I mean," he interposed hurriedly. "I don't
think he's quite right in his head, 'cos he says he ought to have been
buried instead of someone else. Oh!"
The last word was almost a scream, for Mrs. Harbolt, staggering back,
pinched him convulsively.
"Jemmy!" she gasped, in a trembling voice, as she suddenly remembered
certain mysterious hints thrown out by the mate. "Who is it?"
"The CAPTAIN!" said Jemmy, and, breaking from her clasp, slipped from
his bed and darted hastily on deck, just as the pallid face of his
commander broke through the blankets and beamed anxiously on his wife.
* * * * * * * *
Five minutes later, as the crew gathered aft were curiously eyeing the
foc's'le, Mrs. Harbolt and the skipper came on deck. To the great
astonishment of the mate, the eyes of the redoubtable woman were
slightly wet, and, regardless of the presence of the men, she clung
fondly to her husband as they walked slowly to the cabin. Ere they went
below, however, she called the grinning Jemmy to her, and, to his
private grief and public shame, tucked his head under her arm and kissed
him fondly.
IN LIMEHOUSE REACH
It was the mate's affair all through. He began by leaving the end of a
line dangling over the stern, and the propeller, though quite
unaccustomed to that sort of work, wound it up until only a few fathoms
remained. It then stopped, and the mischief was not discovered until the
skipper had called the engineer everything that he and the mate and
three men and a boy could think of. The skipper did the interpreting
through the tube which afforded the sole means of communication between
the wheel and the engine-room, and the indignant engineer did the
listening.
The Gem was just off Limehouse at the time, and it was evident she was
going to stay there. The skipper ran her ashore and made her fast to a
roomy old schooner which was lying alongside a wharf. He was then able
to give a little attention to the real offender, and the unfortunate
mate, who had been the most inventive of them all, realised to the full
the old saying of curses coming home to roost. They brought some
strangers with them, too.
"I'm going ashore," said the skipper at last. "We won't get off till
next tide now. When it's low water you'll have to get down and cut the
line away. A new line too! I'm ashamed o' you, Harry."
"I'm not surprised," said the engineer, who was a vindictive man.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded the mate fiercely.
"We don't want any of your bad temper," interposed the skipper severely.
"NOR bad language. The men can go ashore, and the engineer too, provided
he keeps steam up. But be ready for a start about five. You'll have to
mind the ship."
He looked over the stern again, shook his head sadly, and, after a visit
to the cabin, clambered over the schooner's side and got ashore. The
men, after looking at the propeller and shaking their heads, went ashore
too, and the boy, after looking at the propeller and getting ready to
shake his, caught the mate's eye and omitted that part of the ceremony,
from a sudden conviction that it was unhealthy.
Left alone, the mate, who was of a sensitive disposition, after a curt
nod to Captain Jansell of the schooner Aquila, who had heard of the
disaster, and was disposed to be sympathetically inquisitive, lit his
pipe and began moodily to smoke.
When he next looked up the old man had disappeared, and a girl in a
print dress and a large straw hat sat in a wicker chair reading. She was
such a pretty girl that the mate forgot his troubles at once, and, after
carefully putting his cap on straight, strolled casually up and down the
deck.
To his mortification, the girl seemed unaware of his presence, and read
steadily, occasionally looking up and chirping with a pair of ravishing
lips at a blackbird, which hung in a wicker cage from the mainmast.
"That's a nice bird," said the mate, leaning against the side, and
turning a look of great admiration upon it.
"Yes," said the girl, raising a pair of dark blue eyes to the bold brown
ones, and taking him in at a glance.
"Does it sing?" inquired the mate, with a show of great interest.
"It does sometimes, when we are alone," was the reply.
"I should have thought the sea air would have affected its throat," said
the mate, reddening. "Are you often in the London river, miss? I don't
remember seeing your craft before."
"Not often," said the girl.
"You've got a fine schooner here," said the mate, eyeing it critically.
"For my part, I prefer a sailer to a steamer."
"I should think you would," said the girl.
"Why?" inquired the mate tenderly, pleased at this show of interest.
"No propeller," said the girl quietly, and she left her seat and
disappeared below, leaving the mate gasping painfully.
Left to himself, he became melancholy, as he realised that the great
passion of his life had commenced, and would probably end within a few
hours. The engineer came aboard to look at the fires, and, the steamer
being now on the soft mud, good-naturedly went down and assisted him to
free the propeller before going ashore again. Then he was alone once
more, gazing ruefully at the bare deck of the Aquila.
It was past two o'clock in the afternoon before any signs of life other
than the blackbird appeared there. Then the girl came on deck again,
accompanied by a stout woman of middle age, and an appearance so affable
that the mate commenced at once.
"Fine day," he said pleasantly, as he brought up in front of them.
"Lovely weather," said the mother, settling herself in her chair and
putting down her work ready for a chat. "I hope the wind lasts; we start
to-morrow morning's tide. You'll get off this afternoon, I s'pose."
"About five o'clock," said the mate.
"I should like to try a steamer for a change," said the mother, and
waxed garrulous on sailing craft generally, and her own in particular.
"There's five of us down there, with my husband and the two boys," said
she, indicating the cabin with her thumb; "naturally it gets rather
stuffy."
The mate sighed. He was thinking that under some conditions there were
worse things than stuffy cabins.
"And Nancy's so discontented," said the mother, looking at the girl who
was reading quietly by her side. "She doesn't like ships or sailors. She
gets her head turned reading those penny novelettes."
"You look after your own head," said Nancy elegantly, without looking
up.
"Girls in those novels don't talk to their mothers like that," said the
elder woman severely.
"They have different sorts of mothers," said Nancy, serenely turning
over a page. "I hate little pokey ships and sailors smelling of tar. I
never saw a sailor I liked yet."
The mate's face fell. "There's sailors and sailors," he suggested
humbly.
"It's no good talking to her," said the mother, with a look of fat
resignation on her face, "we can only let her go her own way; if you
talked to her twenty-four hours right off it wouldn't do her any good."
"I'd like to try," said the mate, plucking up spirit.
"Would you?" said the girl, for the first time raising her head and
looking him full in the face. "Impudence!"
"Perhaps you haven't seen many ships," said the impressionable mate, his
eyes devouring her face. "Would you like to come and have a look at our
cabin?"
"No, thanks!" said the girl sharply. Then she smiled maliciously. "I
daresay mother would, though; she's fond of poking her nose into other
people's business."
The mother regarded her irreverent offspring fixedly for a few moments.
The mate interposed.
"I should be very pleased to show you over, ma'am," he said politely.
The mother hesitated; then she rose, and accepting the mate's
assistance, clambered on to the side of the steamer, and, supported by
his arms, sprang to the deck and followed him below.
"Very nice," she said, nodding approvingly, as the mate did the honours.
"Very nice."
"It's nice and roomy for a little craft like ours," said the mate, as he
drew a stone bottle from a locker and poured out a couple of glasses of
stout. "Try a little beer, ma'am."
"What you must think o' that girl o' mine I can't think," murmured the
lady, taking a modest draught.
"The young," said the mate, who had not quite reached his twenty-fifth
year, "are often like that."
"It spoils her," said her mother. "She's a good-looking girl, too, in
her way."
"I don't see how she can help being that," said the mate.
"Oh, get away with you," said the lady pleasantly. "She'll get fat like
me as she gets older."
"She couldn't do better," said the mate tenderly.
"Nonsense," said the lady, smiling.
"You're as like as two peas," persisted the mate. "I made sure you were
sisters when I saw you first."
"You ain't the first that's thought that," said the other, laughing
softly; "not by a lot."
"I like to see ladies about," said the mate, who was trying desperately
for a return invitation. "I wish you could always sit there. You quite
brighten the cabin up."
"You're a flatterer," said his visitor, as he replenished her glass, and
showed so little signs of making a move that the mate, making a pretext
of seeing the engineer, hurried up on deck to singe his wings once more.
"Still reading?" he said softly, as he came abreast of the girl. "All
about love, I s'pose."
"Have you left my mother down there all by herself?" inquired the girl
abruptly.
"Just a minute," said the mate, somewhat crestfallen. "I just came up to
see the engineer."
"Well, he isn't here," was the discouraging reply.
The mate waited a minute or two, the girl still reading quietly, and
then walked back to the cabin. The sound of gentle regular breathing
reached his ears, and, stepping softly, he saw to his joy that his
visitor slept.
"She's asleep," said he, going back, "and she looks so comfortable I
don't think I'll wake her."
"I shouldn't advise you to," said the girl; "she always wakes up cross."
"How strange we should run up against each other like this," said the
mate sentimentally; "it looks like Providence, doesn't it?"
"Looks like carelessness," said the girl.
"I don't care," replied the mate. "I'm glad I did let that line go
overboard. Best day's work I ever did. I shouldn't have seen you if I
hadn't."
"And I don't suppose you'll ever see me again," said the girl
comfortably, "so I don't see what good you've done yourself."
"I shall run down to Limehouse every time we're in port, anyway," said
the mate; "it'll be odd if I don't see you sometimes. I daresay our
craft'll pass each other sometimes. Perhaps in the night," he added
gloomily.
"I shall sit up all night watching for you," declared Miss Jansell
untruthfully.
In this cheerful fashion the conversation proceeded, the girl, who was
by no means insensible to his bright eager face and well-knit figure,
dividing her time in the ratio of three parts to her book and one to
him. Time passed all too soon for the mate, when they were interrupted
by a series of hoarse unintelligible roars proceeding from the
schooner's cabin.
"That's father," said Miss Jansell, rising with a celerity which spoke
well for the discipline maintained on the Aquila; "he wants me to mend
his waistcoat for him."
She put down her book and left, the mate watching her until she
disappeared down the companion-way. Then he sat down and waited.
One by one the crew returned to the steamer, but the schooner's deck
showed no signs of life. Then the skipper came, and, having peered
critically over his vessel's side, gave orders to get under way.
"If she'd only come up," said the miserable mate to himself, "I'd risk
it, and ask whether I might write to her."
This chance of imperilling a promising career did not occur, however;
the steamer slowly edged away from the schooner, and, picking her way
between a tier of lighters, steamed slowly into clearer water.
"Full speed ahead!" roared the skipper down the tube. The engineer
responded, and the mate gazed in a melancholy fashion at the water as it
rapidly widened between the two vessels. Then his face brightened up
suddenly as the girl ran up on deck and waved her hand. Hardly able to
believe his eyes, he waved his back. The girl gesticulated violently,
now pointing to the steamer, and then to the schooner.
"By Jove, that girl's taken a fancy to you," said the skipper. "She
wants you to go back."
The mate sighed. "Seems like it," he said modestly.
To his astonishment the girl was now joined by her men folk, who also
waved hearty farewells, and, throwing their arms about, shouted
incoherently.
"Blamed if they haven't all took a fancy to you," said the puzzled
skipper; "the old man's got the speaking-trumpet now. What does he say?"
"Something about life, I think," said the mate.
"They're more like jumping-jacks than anything else," said the skipper.
"Just look at 'em."
The mate looked, and, as the distance increased, sprang on to the side,
and, his eyes dim with emotion, waved tender farewells. If it had not
been for the presence of the skipper--a tremendous stickler for decorum--
he would have kissed his hand.
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