THE LAW OF THE BAY
The bug-eye, Z. B. Brandt, lay more easily at anchor as the night wore
away and morning began to come in. The wind that had brought the rain had
fallen flat, and, in its stead, there was blowing a gentle breeze
straight out the mouth of the river, from the west. The day bade fair to
be clear. Still, with the increasing warmth of the air upon the surface
of the water, a vapour was arising, which shut out the shore in some
degree.
To one looking at it from a little distance, the vessel might have
presented a not unpleasing appearance. Its lines were certainly
graceful—almost handsome—after the manner of that type of bay craft. The
low free-board and sloping masts served to add grace to the outlines. The
Z. B. Brandt was a large one of its class, something over sixty feet
long, capable evidently of carrying a large cargo; and, at the same time,
a bay-man would have known at a glance that she was speedy.
Built on no such lines of grace and speed, however, was her skipper,
Captain Hamilton Haley, who now emerged from the cabin, on deck,
stretched his short, muscular arms, and looked about and across the
water, with a glance of approval and satisfaction at the direction of the
wind. He was below the medium height, a lack of stature which was made
more noticeable by an unusual breadth of chest and burliness of
shoulders.
Squat down between his shoulders, with so short and thick a neck that it
seemed as though nature had almost overlooked that proportion, was a
rounded, massive head, adorned with a crop of reddish hair. A thick, but
closely cut beard added to his shaggy appearance. His mouth was small and
expressionless; from under heavy eye-brows, small, grayish eyes twinkled
keenly and coldly.
Smoke pouring out of a funnel that protruded from the top of the cabin on
the starboard side, and a noise of dishes rattling below in the galley,
indicated preparation for breakfast. Captain Haley, his inspection of
conditions of wind and weather finished, went below.
A half hour later, there appeared from the same companion-way another
man, of a strikingly different type. He was tall and well proportioned,
powerfully built, alert and active in every movement. His complexion
showed him to be of negro blood, though of the lightest type of mulatto.
His face, smooth-shaven, betrayed lines that foreboded little good to the
crew of any craft that should come under his command. His eyes told of
intelligence, however, and it would have required but one glance of a
shrewd master of a vessel to pick him out for a smart seaman. Let
Hamilton Haley tell it, there wasn’t a better mate in all the dredging
fleet than Jim Adams. Let certain men that had served aboard the Brandt
on previous voyages tell it, and there wasn’t a worse one. It was a
matter of point of view.
Captain Hamilton Haley having also come on deck, and it being now close
on to five o’clock of this November morning, it was high time for the
Brandt to get under way. Captain Haley motioned toward the forecastle.
“Get ’em out,” he said curtly.
The mate walked briskly forward, and descended into the forecastle. The
two seamen in the upper bunks, sleeping in their clothes, tumbled hastily
out, at a word from the mate, and a shake of the shoulder. The men in the
two lower bunks did not respond. Angrily raising one foot, shod in a
heavy boot, Jim Adams administered several kicks to the slumberers. They
stirred and groaned, and half awoke. Surveying them contemptuously for a
moment, the mate passed them by.
“I’ll ’tend to you gentlemen later on, I reckon,” he muttered. Jack
Harvey, aroused by the stirring in the forecastle, had scrambled hastily
out, and was on his feet when the mate approached. The latter grinned,
showing two rows of strong, white teeth.
“Well done, sonny,” he said. “Saved you’self gettin’ invited, didn’t you?
Just be lively, now, and scamper out on deck. Your mammy wants ter see
you.”
“All right,” answered Harvey, and stooped for his shoes. To his surprise,
he felt himself seized by the powerful hand of the mate, and jerked
upright. The mate was still smiling, but there was a gleam in his eyes
that there was no mistaking.
“See here, sonny,” he said, “would you just mind bein’ so kind as to call
me ‘mister,’ when you speaks to me? I’m Mister Adams, if you please.
Would you just as lieves remember that?”
Jack Harvey was quick to perceive that this sneering politeness was no
joke. He answered readily, “Certainly, Mr. Adams; I will, sir.”
The mate grinned, approvingly.
“Get along,” he said.
Pausing for a moment before the bunk in which Mr. Tom Edwards was still
sleeping, the mate espied the black tailor-made coat which the owner had
carefully folded and stowed in one corner before retiring. From that and
the general appearance of the sleeper, it was evident Jim Adams had
gathered an impression little favourable to the occupant of the bunk.
“Hmph!” he muttered. “Reckon he won’t last long. Scroop’s rung in a
counter-jumper on Haley. Wait till Haley sees him.”
His contempt for the garment, carefully folded, did not however, prevent
his making a more critical inspection of it. Drawing it stealthily out of
the bunk, the mate quickly ran through the pockets. The search
disappointed him. There was a good linen handkerchief, which he
appropriated; an empty wallet, which he restored to a pocket; and some
papers, equally unprofitable. Tossing the coat back into the bunk, the
mate seized the legs of the sleeper and swung them around over the edge
of the bunk; which being accomplished, he unceremoniously spilled Mr. Tom
Edwards out on the floor.
There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes as he did so; a consciousness
that here, in these waters of the Chesapeake, among the dredging fleet,
there existed a peculiar reversal of the general supremacy of the white
over the black race; a reversal growing out of the brutality of many of
the captains, and the method of shipping men and holding them prisoners,
to work or perish; in the course of which, captains so disposed had found
that there was none so eager to brow-beat and bully a crew of
recalcitrant whites as a certain type of coloured mates.
Tom Edwards, awakened thus roughly, opened his eyes wide in astonishment;
then his face reddened with indignation as he saw the figure of the mate
bending over him.
“Would you just as lieve ’blige me by gettin’ your coat on an’ stepping
out on deck?” asked the mate, with mock politeness.
Tom Edwards arose to his feet, somewhat shaky, and glared at the
spokesman.
“I want to see the captain of this vessel,” he said. “You fellows have
made a mistake in your man, this time. You’d better be careful.”
“Yes, sir, I’m very, unusual careful, mister,” responded the mate,
grinning at the picture presented by the unfortunate Mr. Tom Edwards,
unsteady on his legs with the slight rolling of the vessel, but striving
to assert his dignity. “Jes’ please to hustle out on deck, now, an’
you’ll see the cap’n all right. He’s waiting for you to eat breakfas’
with him, in the cabin.”
Tom Edwards, burning with wrath, hurriedly adjusted his crumpled collar
and tie, put on his shoes and coat, and hastened on deck. Glancing
forward, he espied Harvey engaged at work with the crew.
“Here, Harvey,” he cried, “come on. I’ll set you right, and myself, too,
at the same time. I’ll see if there’s any law in Maryland that will
punish an outrage like this.”
Somewhat doubtfully, Jack Harvey followed him. Jim Adams, leering as
though he knew what would be the result, did not stop him. The two
seamen, also, paused in their work, and stood watching the unusual event.
Captain Hamilton Haley, standing expectantly near the wheel, eyed the
approaching Mr. Edwards with cold unconcern. Perhaps he had met similar
situations before.
Under certain conditions, and amid the proper surroundings, Mr. Thomas
Edwards might readily have made a convincing impression and commanded
respect; but the situation was unfavourable. His very respectable
garments, in their tumbled and tom disarrangement, his legs unsteady,
from recent experiences and from weakness, his face pale with the
evidence of approaching sea-sickness, all conspired to defeat his attempt
at dignity. Yet he was determined.
“Captain,” he said, stepping close to the stolid figure by the wheel,
“you have made a bad mistake in getting me aboard here. I was drugged and
shipped without my knowing it. I am a travelling man, and connected with
a big business house in Boston. If you don’t set me ashore at once,
you’ll get yourself into more kinds of trouble than you ever dreamed of.
I’m a man-of-the-world, and I can let this pass for a good joke among the
boys on the road, if it stops right here. But if you carry it any
farther, I warn you it will be at your peril. It’s a serious thing, this
man-stealing.”
Captain Hamilton Haley, fortifying himself with a piece of tobacco, eyed
Mr. Thomas Edwards sullenly. Then he clenched a huge fist and replied.
“I’ve seen ’em like you before,” he said. “They was all real gentlemen,
same as you be, when they come aboard, and most of ’em owned up to bein’
pickpockets and tramps when they and I got acquainted. I guess you’re no
great gentleman. When a man goes and signs a contract with me, I makes
him live up to it. You’ve gone and signed with me, and now you get
for’ard and bear a hand at that winch.”
“That’s an outrageous lie!” cried Tom Edwards, shaking his fist in turn
at Captain Haley. “I never signed a paper in my life, to ship with you or
anybody else. If they’ve got my signature, it’s forged.”
“Look here, you,” answered Haley, advancing a step, “don’t you go an’
tell me as how I lie, young feller. Ain’t I seen the contract with my own
eyes? Didn’t Scroop show it, along with the contract of that other young
chap there? Don’t you go telling me I ain’t doin’ things legal like. I’ll
show you some Chesapeake Bay law.”
“Well, Chesapeake Bay law is the same as the law for the rest of
Maryland, I reckon,” exclaimed Tom Edwards hotly. “You’ve got no law on
your side. I’ve got the law with me, and I’ll proceed against you. You’ll
find Chesapeake Bay law and State law is much the same when you get into
court.”
For a moment something like a grin overspread the dull features of
Captain Hamilton Haley. Then he raised his arm, advanced another step
forward, and shook his fist in the other’s face.
“I reckon you ain’t had no experience with Chesapeake Bay law,” he cried
angrily. “But it’s easy to larn, and it don’t take no books to teach it.
Do you see that fist?”
He brandished his huge, red bunch of knuckles in Tom Edwards’s face.
“Do you see that fist?” he cried again, his own face growing more fiery.
“That’s the law of the Bay. That’s the law of the dredging fleet. There
ain’t no other. Any man that goes against that law, gets it laid down to
him good and hard. There it is, and you gets your first lesson.”
With a single blow of his arm, planting the aforesaid digest and epitome
of dredging law full in the face of Tom Edwards, he stretched him
sprawling on the deck, dazed and terrified.
Captain Hamilton Haley, having thus successfully demonstrated the might
and majesty of dredging-fleet law, according to his own interpretation of
its terms, proceeded now to expound it further. His anger had increased
with his act of violence, and the veins in his neck and on his forehead
stood out, swollen.
“See here you, young fellow,” he cried, advancing toward Harvey,
threateningly, “don’t you go starting out uppish, too. Don’t you begin
sea-lawyerin’ with me. I know the law. There it is, and I hand it out
when needed. There ain’t no other law among the dredgers that I knows of,
from Plum Point down to the Rappahannock. Some of ’em larns it quick, and
some of ’em larns it slow; and them as larns it quickest gets it
lightest. Now what have you got to say?”
Jack Harvey, thus hopelessly confronted, thought—and thought quickly.
“I signed for a cruise, all right,” he replied, returning the infuriated
captain’s gaze steadily, “and I’m ready to go to work.”
“Then you get for’ard, lively now, and grab hold of that winch. You
loafers get back and yank that anchor up. This ain’t a town meetin’. Get
them men to work again, mate. Take him along, too.”
The captain pointed, in turn, to Harvey, to the sailors who had edged
their way aft, to watch proceedings, and to the unfortunate Mr. Edwards,
who had arisen from the deck and stood, a sorry, woe-begone object,
unable physically to offer further resistance.
“Shake things up now, Jim Adams, shake ’em up,” urged Haley. “Here we are
losing good wind over a lot of tramps that costs ten dollars apiece to
get here, and little good after we’ve got ’em. How’s a man goin’ to make
his livin’ dredging, when he pays high for men an’ gets nothin’ to show
for his money? I’d like to get that fellow, Jenkins, out here once,
himself. I’d show him this isn’t a business for school-boys and
counter-jumpers. I’d get ten dollars’ worth of work out of him, and a
good many more ten dollars’ worth that he’s got out of me, or he’d know
the reason why.”
Thus relieving his mind of his own troubles, Captain Hamilton Haley, in a
state of highly virtuous indignation, watched with approval the actions
of the mate. The latter, seizing Tom Edwards, hurried him forward
unceremoniously and bade him take hold at the handle of the winch and
help raise the anchor. Tom Edwards weakly grasped the handle, as
directed, in company with one of the sailors. Jack Harvey and the other
seaman worked at the opposite handle.
Two men could have done the job easily, and the four made quick work of
it. By the time the anchor chain was hove short, the mate and Haley had
got the main-sail up. One of the seamen left the windlass and set one of
the jibs; the anchor was brought aboard and stowed. The bug-eye, Brandt,
began to swing off from its mooring, as the wind caught the jib, which
was held up to windward. Easily the craft spun ’round, going before the
wind out of the harbour and running across the bay, headed for the
Eastern shore.