“The yarn in various forms is an old one,” said I.
“It’s all founded on something I told him once,” said Bill. “I don’t
wish to accuse Cap’n Harris of taking another man’s true story an’
spoiling it; he’s got a bad memory, that’s all. Fust of all, he forgets
he ever heard the yarn; secondly, he goes and spoils it.”
I gave a sympathetic murmur. Harris was as truthful an old man as ever
breathed, but his tales were terribly restricted by this circumstance,
whereas Bill’s were limited by nothing but his own imagination.
“It was about fifteen years ago now,” began Bill, getting the quid into
a bye-way of his cheek, where it would not impede his utterance. “I was
A. B. on the _Swallow_, a barque, trading wherever we could pick up
stuff. On this v’y’ge we was bound from London to Jamaica with a
general cargo.
“The start of that v’y’ge was excellent. We was towed out of the St.
Katherine’s Docks here, to the Nore, an’ the tug left us to a stiff
breeze, which fairly raced us down Channel and out into the Atlantic.
Everybody was saying what a fine v’y’ge we was having, an’ what quick
time we should make, an’ the fust mate was in such a lovely temper that
you might do anything with him a’most.
“We was about ten days out, an’ still slipping along in this spanking
way, when all of a sudden things changed. I was at the wheel with the
second mate one night, when the skipper, whose name was Brown, came up
from below in a uneasy sort o’ fashion, and stood looking at us for
some time without speaking. Then at last he sort o’ makes up his mind,
and ses he—
“‘Mr. McMillan, I’ve just had a most remarkable experience, an’ I don’t
know what to do about it.’
“‘Yes, sir?’ ses Mr. McMillan.
“‘Three times I’ve been woke up this night by something shouting in my
ear, “Steer nor’-nor’-west!”’ ses the cap’n very solemnly, ‘“Steer
nor’-nor’-west!”’ that’s all it says. The first time I thought it was
somebody got into my cabin skylarking, and I laid for ’em with a stick
but I’ve heard it three times, an’ there’s nothing there.’
“‘It’s a supernatural warning,’ ses the second mate, who had a great
uncle once who had the second sight, and was the most unpopular man of
his family, because he always knew what to expect, and laid his plans
according.
“‘That’s what I think,’ ses the cap’n. ‘There’s some poor shipwrecked
fellow creatures in distress.”
“‘It’s a verra grave responsebeelity,’ ses Mr. McMillan. ‘I should just
ca’ up the fairst mate.’
“‘Bill,’ ses the cap’n, ‘just go down below, and tell Mr. Salmon I’d
like a few words with him partikler.’
“Well, I went down below, and called up the first mate, and as soon as
I’d explained to him what he was wanted for, he went right off into a
fit of outrageous bad language, an’ hit me. He came right up on deck in
his pants an’ socks. A most disrespekful way to come to the cap’n, but
he was that hot and excited he didn’t care what he did.
“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses the cap’n gravely, ‘I’ve just had a most solemn
warning, and I want to—’
“‘I know,’ says the mate gruffly.
“‘What! have you heard it too?’ ses the cap’n, in surprise. ‘Three
times?’ “I heard it from him,’ ses the mate, pointing to me.
‘Nightmare, sir, nightmare.’
“‘It was not nightmare, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very huffy, ‘an if I hear
it again, I’m going to alter this ship’s course.’
“Well, the fust mate was in a hole. He wanted to call the skipper
something which he knew wasn’t discipline. I knew what it was, an’ I
knew if the mate didn’t do something he’d be ill, he was that sort of
man, everything flew to his head. He walked away, and put his head over
the side for a bit, an’ at last, when he came back, he was,
comparatively speaking, calm.
“‘You mustn’t hear them words again, sir,’ ses he; ‘don’t go to sleep
again to-night. Stay up, an’ we’ll have a hand o’ cards, and in the
morning you take a good stiff dose o’ rhoobarb. Don’t spoil one o’ the
best trips we’ve ever had for the sake of a pennyworth of rhoobarb,’
ses he, pleading-like.
“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses the cap’n, very angry, ‘I shall not fly in the face
o’ Providence in any such way. I shall sleep as usual, an’ as for your
rhoobarb,’ ses the cap’n, working hisself up into a passion—’damme,
sir, I’ll—I’ll dose the whole crew with it, from first mate to
cabin-boy, if I have any impertinence.’
“Well, Mr. Salmon, who was getting very mad, stalks down below,
followed by the cap’n, an’ Mr. McMillan was that excited that he even
started talking to me about it. Half-an-hour arterwards the cap’n comes
running up on deck again.
“‘Mr. McMillan,’ ses he excitedly, ‘steer nor’-nor’-west until further
orders. I’ve heard it again, an’ this time it nearly split the drum of
my ear.’
“The ship’s course was altered, an’ after the old man was satisfied he
went back to bed again, an’ almost directly arter eight bells went, an’
I was relieved. I wasn’t on deck when the fust mate come up, but those
that were said he took it very calm. He didn’t say a word. He just sat
down on the poop, and blew his cheeks out.
“As soon as ever it was daylight the skipper was on deck with his
glasses. He sent men up to the masthead to keep a good look-out, an’ he
was dancing about like a cat on hot bricks all the morning.
“‘How long are we to go on this course, sir?’ asks Mr. Salmon, about
ten o’clock in the morning.
“‘I’ve not made up my mind, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very stately; but I
could see he was looking a trifle foolish.
“At twelve o’clock in the day, the fust mate got a cough, and every
time he coughed it seemed to act upon the skipper, and make him madder
and madder. Now that it was broad daylight, Mr. McMillan didn’t seem to
be so creepy as the night before, an’ I could see the cap’n was only
waiting for the slightest excuse to get into our proper course again.
“‘That’s a nasty, bad cough o’ yours, Mr. Salmon,’ ses he, eyeing the
mate very hard.
“‘Yes, a nasty, irritating sort o’ cough, sir,’ ses the other; ‘it
worries me a great deal. It’s this going up nor’ards what’s sticking in
my throat,’ ses he.
“The cap’n give a gulp, and walked off, but he comes back in a minute,
and ses he—
“‘Mr. Salmon, I should think it a great pity to lose a valuable officer
like yourself, even to do good to others. There’s a hard ring about
that cough I don’t like, an’ if you really think it’s going up this bit
north, why, I don’t mind putting the ship in her course again.’
“Well, the mate thanked him kindly, and he was just about to give the
orders when one o’ the men who was at the masthead suddenly shouts out—
“‘Ahoy! Small boat on the port bow!’
“The cap’n started as if he’d been shot, and ran up the rigging with
his glasses. He came down again almost direckly, and his face was all
in a glow with pleasure and excitement.
“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses he, ‘here’s a small boat with a lug sail in the
middle o’ the Atlantic, with one pore man lying in the bottom of her.
What do you think o’ my warning now?’
“The mate didn’t say anything at first, but he took the glasses and had
a look, an’ when he came back anyone could see his opinion of the
skipper had gone up miles and miles.
“‘It’s a wonderful thing, sir,’ ses he, ‘and one I’ll remember all my
life. It’s evident that you’ve been picked out as a instrument to do
this good work.’
“I’d never heard the fust mate talk like that afore, ’cept once when he
fell overboard, when he was full, and stuck in the Thames mud. He said
it was Providence; though, as it was low water, according to the
tide-table, I couldn’t see what Providence had to do with it myself. He
was as excited as anybody, and took the wheel himself, and put the
ship’s head for the boat, and as she came closer, our boat was slung
out, and me and the second mate and three other men dropped into her,
an’ pulled so as to meet the other.
“‘Never mind the boat; we don’t want to be bothered with her,’ shouts
out the cap’n as we pulled away—‘Save the man!’
“I’ll say this for Mr. McMillan, he steered that boat beautifully, and
we ran alongside o’ the other as clever as possible. Two of us shipped
our oars, and gripped her tight, and then we saw that she was just an
ordinary boat, partly decked in, with the head and shoulders of a man
showing in the opening, fast asleep, and snoring like thunder.
“‘Puir chap,’ ses Mr. McMillan, standing up. ‘Look how wasted he is.’
“He laid hold o’ the man by the neck of his coat an’ his belt, an’,
being a very powerful man, dragged him up and swung him into our boat,
which was bobbing up and down, and grating against the side of the
other. We let go then, an’ the man we’d rescued opened his eyes as Mr.
McMillan tumbled over one of the thwarts with him, and, letting off a
roar like a bull, tried to jump back into his boat.
“‘Hold him!’ shouted the second mate. ‘Hold him tight! He’s mad, puir
feller.’
“By the way that man fought and yelled, we thought the mate was right,
too. He was a short, stiff chap, hard as iron, and he bit and kicked
and swore for all he was worth, until at last we tripped him up and
tumbled him into the bottom of the boat, and held him there with his
head hanging back over a thwart.
“‘It’s all right, my puir feller,’ ses the second mate; ‘ye’re in good
hands—ye’re saved.’
“‘Damme!’ ses the man; ‘what’s your little game? Where’s my boat—eh?
Where’s my boat?’
“He wriggled a bit, and got his head up, and, when he saw it bowling
along two or three hundred yards away, his temper got the better of
him, and he swore that if Mr. McMillan didn’t row after it he’d knife
him.
“‘We can’t bother about the boat,’ ses the mate; ‘we’ve had enough
bother to rescue you.’
“‘Who the devil wanted you to rescue me?’ bellowed the man. ‘I’ll make
you pay for this, you miserable swabs. If there’s any law in Amurrica,
you shall have it!’
“By this time we had got to the ship, which had shortened sail, and the
cap’n was standing by the side, looking down upon the stranger with a
big, kind smile which nearly sent him crazy.
“‘Welcome aboard, my pore feller,’ ses he, holding out his hand as the
chap got up the side.
“‘Are you the author of this outrage?’ ses the man fiercely. “‘I don’t
understand you,’ ses the cap’n, very dignified, and drawing himself up.
“‘Did you send your chaps to sneak me out o’ my boat while I was having
forty winks?’ roars the other. ‘Damme! that’s English, ain’t it?’
“‘Surely,’ ses the cap’n, ‘surely you didn’t wish to be left to perish
in that little craft. I had a supernatural warning to steer this course
on purpose to pick you up, and this is your gratitude.’
“‘Look here!’ ses the other. ‘My name’s Cap’n Naskett, and I’m doing a
record trip from New York to Liverpool in the smallest boat that has
ever crossed the Atlantic, an’ you go an’ bust everything with your
cussed officiousness. If you think I’m going to be kidnapped just to
fulfil your beastly warnings, you’ve made a mistake. I’ll have the law
on you, that’s what I’ll do. Kidnapping’s a punishable offence.’
“‘What did you come here for, then?’ ses the cap’n.
“‘Come!’ howls Cap’n Naskett. ‘Come! A feller sneaks up alongside o’ me
with a boat-load of street-sweepings dressed as sailors, and snaps me
up while I’m asleep, and you ask me what I come for. Look here. You
clap on all sail and catch that boat o’ mine, and put me back, and I’ll
call it quits. If you don’t, I’ll bring a law-suit agin you, and make
you the laughing-stock of two continents into the bargain.’
“Well, to make the best of a bad bargain, the cap’n sailed after the
cussed little boat, and Mr. Salmon, who thought more than enough time
had been lost already, fell foul o’ Cap’n Naskett. They was both pretty
talkers, and the way they went on was a education for every sailorman
afloat. Every man aboard got as near as they durst to listen to them;
but I must say Cap’n Naskett had the best of it. He was a sarkastik
man, and pretended to think the ship was fitted out just to pick up
shipwrecked people, an’ he also pretended to think we was castaways
what had been saved by it. He said o’ course anybody could see at a
glance we wasn’t sailormen, an’ he supposed Mr. Salmon was a butcher
what had been carried out to sea while paddling at Margate to
strengthen his ankles. He said a lot more of this sort of thing, and
all this time we was chasing his miserable little boat, an’ he was
admiring the way she sailed, while the fust mate was answering his
reflexshuns, an’ I’m sure that not even our skipper was more pleased
than Mr. Salmon when we caught it at last, and shoved him back. He was
ungrateful up to the last, an’, just before leaving the ship, actually
went up to Cap’n Brown, and advised him to shut his eyes an’ turn round
three times and catch what he could.
“I never saw the skipper so upset afore, but I heard him tell Mr.
McMillan that night that if he ever went out of his way again after a
craft, it would only be to run it down. Most people keep pretty quiet
about supernatural things that happen to them, but he was about the
quietest I ever heard of, an’, what’s more, he made everyone else keep
quiet about it, too. Even when he had to steer nor’-nor’-west arter
that in the way o’ business he didn’t like it, an’ he was about the
most cruelly disappointed man you ever saw when he heard afterwards
that Cap’n Naskett got safe to Liverpool.”