Mr. John Murphy, boarding master, was on bad terms with himself. He had
been kicked off the poop-deck of Captain Williams's big ship, the
_Albatross_, lying off Tompkinsville, waiting to dock, thence to the
gangway, and from there shoved, struck in the face, and further kicked
and maltreated until he had flopped into the boat at the foot of the
steps. Williams was a six-footer, a graduate "bucko" now in charge of
this big skysail-yarder, and he had resented Murphy's appearance on
board with whisky and kind words for his men before he was through with
them. Not caring to dock his ship with the help of riggers at five
dollars a day, he had called Murphy aft, lectured him on the ethics and
proprieties of seafaring, and then had punished him for an indiscreet
reference to the rights of boarding masters who must needs solicit
boarders in order to make a living. All that Murphy could do under the
circumstances was to shout up from the boat his defiance of Captain
Williams, and a threat to prevent his getting a new crew when ready to
sail--which was clearly within his power as a member of the Association
of Boarding and Shipping Masters. But Williams, red-bearded,
angry-faced, and victorious, replied with injunctions to descend to the
infernal regions and remain there, and Murphy pulled ashore and took
the boat to New York, bent upon vengeance.
At the door of his boarding-house in Front Street he met Hennesey, his
runner. Hennesey was a small man, sly, shrewd, and persuasive, and so
far had given satisfaction in the difficult business of soliciting
incoming crews to board at Murphy's house instead of the Sailors' Home,
the Provident Seamen's Mission, and other like institutions. But
Murphy's mood was strong upon him, and he asked, peremptorily:
"Well, what did ye git?"
"Nothin'; the Mission launch wuz on hand and the bunch wint in a body."
"Dom yer soul, what do I pay ye fur, anyhow?" stormed Murphy. "Are ye
no good? Tell me thot. Are ye no good at all? What are ye takin' my
money fur?"
"To git sailors to come to yer house on commission," retorted Hennesey,
hotly; "an' fur fear I'd be makin' too much, ye sind me to a bloody
coaster, whose min are in the union, while you go down to the
_Albatross_, in from deep water."
"I got no wan from the _Albatross_."
"No fault o' yours or mine. I'd ha' got 'em."
"None o' yer shlack."
"To hill wi' ye."
"Ye're discharged. Come in an' I'll pay ye off."
"Right ye are. From this on I'll work fur mesilf and git your business,
ye skin."
Hennesey's estimate of Murphy was not far wrong, though it might also
apply to himself. The profits of a sailors' boarding-house depend not
upon the cash paid in by men with money, who choose their own ship and
come and go as they please, but upon the advance or allotment of pay
which the law allows to deep-water seamen in order that they may
purchase an outfit of clothing before sailing. To get this allotment,
Murphy and others of his kind would take in and feed any penniless
sailor long enough to run up an inflated bill for board, money lent,
and clothing, then find him a ship and walk him to the shipping-office,
more or less drugged or drunk. Here the penniless sailor dared not,
even if suspicious, contest the claim, for, should he do so, he would
find himself not only out of a ship, but out of a boarding-house; so he
would sign away his allotment, and go aboard with what clothing his
benefactor had allowed him. As deep-water men on shore are invariably
drunk, drugged, or penniless, the boarding-masters, to whom the
skippers must apply for men, easily control the situation. And, as
machinery for such control, nearly all boarding-houses have the front
ground floor divided into barroom and clothing-store, while in the rear
is the dining-room and upstairs the bedrooms, each with as many beds as
there is room for. Thus, a man may be housed, fed, clothed, drugged,
and shipped from the same address. The remedy for this has no place in
this story.
A boarding-master, or crimp, without the machinery, becomes a
shipping-master, a go-between between the skipper and the
boarding-master, whose income is the blood-money paid by skippers for
men. Murphy, strolling along South Street a few days later, saw a new
sign over a doorway--Timothy Hennesey, Shipping-Master. He ascended the
wooden stairs, and in a dingy room with one desk and chair found his
former aid.
"Well, what the hill is this, Hennesey--tryin' to take the brid out of
honest min's mouths?"
"I've me livin' to make, Murphy, an' I'm a-doin' it. I got the crew of
the _Albatross_."
"An' what did ye do wid 'em?"
"Put 'em wid Stillman, over beyant. Ye might ha' had 'em had ye played
fair."
Stillman was Murphy's most important rival, and the news did not cheer
him. He glared darkly at Hennesey.
"An' I've got the shippin' o' Williams's new crew whin he sails,"
continued Hennesey, "an' I'll not go to you for 'em, Murphy."
"Ye'll not?" responded Murphy, luridly. "After all the wark I've given
ye."
"I'll not. I told ye I'd git yer business, an' I'll do it."
Murphy's fist shot out and Hennesey went down. Arising with bleeding
nose, he shook his small fist at his chuckling assailant passing
sidewise out of his door.
"I'll not forgit thot, John Murphy," he spluttered.
"I don't want ye to. Remember it while ye live; an' there's more where
thot cum from, too, ye scab."
At a meeting of the brotherhood that evening, Murphy posted the name of
Timothy Hennesey, scab, and Captain Williams, outlaw; then, somewhat
easier in his mind, took account of the immediate business situation.
It was bad; he had three cash boarders, of no use when their money was
gone, as they signed in coasters, and there was but one ship in port,
the _Albatross_, and none expected for a fortnight. So, leaving
orders with his wife to watch the cash register in the bar, and to
evict the boarders when they asked for trust, he took the train for
Chicago, where lived a prosperous brother, for whom he had a sincere
regard, and to whom he owed a long-promised visit. Brother Mike
welcomed him, and under the softening influence of brotherly love he
forgave Hennesey, but not Williams. It is so much easier to warm toward
a fellow man you have punched than toward one who has punched you.
Mike took John down to his coal-docks, with which he was amassing a
fortune, and explained their workings. A schooner lay at one, and his
gang was unloading her. It was a cold day in November, and their warm
overcoats felt none too warm; yet down in the hold of the schooner were
men bare to the waist, black as negroes with coal dust, save where the
perspiration cleared white channels as it ran down their backs and
breasts--keeping themselves warm with the violence of their exertions.
There were two to each of the three hatches; and there were six others
on the dock runway, wheeling the coal away; they had nearly unloaded
the schooner, having cleared away the coal directly under the hatch,
and were now loading their buckets at the two piles farther back,
between the hatches. These buckets stood as high as their waists, and
held, according to Brother Mike, five hundred pounds when full. But a
man, having filled it to the brim, would seize the bale and drag it
along the flooring to the hatch, unhook a descending bucket, hook on
the full one, sing out an inarticulate cry, and drag the empty back to
the coal to be filled in its turn--all with a never-lessening display
of extravagant muscular force.
"Heavens! what wark!" said John, as they peered down the hatch. "An'
how long do they kape this up?"
"Tin hours a day, and not a minute longer," answered Mike; "that is,
barrin' fifteen minutes at tin in the mornin' and three in the
afternoon, whin they knock off for a bite and a drink up at me place on
the corner. They go up and ate up me free lunch and soak in about a
pint of whisky at one drink."
"The divil! and don't it kill thim?"
"Naw. They come back and sweat it out. They couldn't wurruk like this
widout it."
"It's great work, Mike. Look at the devilopment. Did ye iver see a
prize-fighter with such muscles?"
"A prize-fighter!" said Mike. "Jawn Murphy, luk at them. They're all
sizes, big and little, in my two gangs; but give the littlest a month's
trainin' in the science o' boxin' and he'd lick any heavyweight in the
wurruld. Ye see, ye simply can't hurt 'em."
"Can't hurt 'em?"
"Ye can't hurt 'em. They're not human. They're wild beasts. They come
from the hills and bogs of Limerick and Galway, and they can't speak
the language, but call themselves Irishmin. Well, Jawn, they're Irish,
mebbe, as the American Injun's an American; but they're not like you
and me, dacent min from Dublin."
"But if they can't speak the language, how do ye git on wid 'em?"
"Once in a while, when they're cool and tranquil, I get on to a word or
two, but usually I fall back on moral suasion and the sign language."
"Moral suasion?"
"I swear at 'em. And thin, whin that fails, I use the sign language.
That's good in talkin' to any foreigner, Jawn."
"But what is it, the sign language?"
"A brick. See this, Jawn?" Mike held up one side of his coat, and John
felt of an oblong protuberance in the right-hand pocket. "I carry a
brick at all times, Jawn, for it's the only thing that appeals to their
sinsibilities. I used to carry a club, but it didn't wurruk; they'd get
back at me wid their shovels, and it's domned inconvanient, Jawn, to be
sliced up wid a shovel. So, I carry a brick."
"Do they git that way often?"
"Yis; it's their natural condition. They'd rather fight than ate, and I
don't dare hire a man from another county in one gang, for fear they'll
kill him; so this is the Galway gang, and up the dock a bit is the
Limerick gang, twilve min to each. They're all alike, but think they're
different, so I have to be careful. But, while they'd rather fight than
ate, they'd rather wurruk than fight, and that's where I come in. I
kape 'em apart, and stir up their jealousy. Each gang 'll wurruk like
hill to bate the other."
"And what do ye pay thim?"
"By the job. They stick to factory hours, and won't wurruk overtime,
but at tin hours a day they make about eight dollars."
"The divil! But that's big pay."
"Yis; but I have to pay it, for no other class o' min can do the
wurruk. Why, it 'ud kill an American or a Dootchman!"
"They must have money saved up."
"All that they don't spind at me bar up on the corner. They have to
save some, for in the nature o' things I can't git it all back. And
they're all goin' back to the old sod whin navigation closes--in about
two weeks. This'll be about their last job."
"They'll come to New York and take passage, I suppose."
"Yis; and I'll have to buy their tickets and ship thim. They don't know
much about American money, and wid a new man I have to pay him in
English money at first, until he finds it's no good; thin I exchange at
a discount."
"Fine, Mike; ye'll be rich before long."
"That I will, if the supply of bog-trottin' savages holds out."
At this juncture one of the men in the hold lifted his sooty
countenance and, with the vehemence of a lunatic, delivered this:
"Whythilldonye'veaharseut'lldothwark?"
"Dry up," said Mike, pulling the brick from his pocket. "Dry up or I'll
hurt yer feelin's."
The man shrank back out of sight, and Mike put the brick back in his
pocket.
"What did he say?" queried John.
"He objicts to the speed o' the harse on the dock. He can fill buckets,
ye see, faster than the harse can h'ist 'em. That's what ails him."
"And he's afraid o' the brick?"
"Yis; but o' nothin' else. Thim fellers don't fear a gun, so I don't
carry one. Why, a while back, there was a bad time at the corner whin
the two gangs got mixed up, and the police cum down. They used their
guns, but--hill! the bullets just punctured their skins, and they
picked thim out wid their fingers and wint for the coppers and done
thim up. I tell ye, Jawn, that a wild Irishman, frish from the bogs and
the hills, can outwork, outfight, and outeat any man alive."
"Outeat?"
"I give thim mate three times a day. If it wuzn't for the profits o'
the bar, it wud brek me. And, say, Jawn, they can't say 'mate' whin
they ask for more. They say 'mate.'"
"'Mate'? And can't they say 'mate,' whin they ate it so much?"
"No, Jawn, they sing out for mate. It's no use; they can't spake the
language, and it's no use t'achin' thim. They're good min to
wurruk--all bone and sole leather, but ye can't refine thim."
"You can't, Mike, but I kin."
"How, ye skeptic? Luk at 'em. Scratch 'em, and they won't bleed. Shoot
'em, and they'll pick out the bullets and paste ye wid 'em. Reason wid
'em, and they'll insult ye. Refine 'em, Jawn! Ye're crazy. Luk at thot
felly down there under the hatch. He's here on his weddin' trip, but he
lift his wife behind in the old country."
"That makes no difference," answered John, ruminatively; "I can refine
'em. Make sure, Mike, that whin they come to New York they come to my
house in Front Street. I'll feed 'em mate three times a day again' the
time they take the ship for the old sod. I'll be good to thim, Mike.
Send thim to me."
"Ay, John, I will thot. But ye'll nade to square yerself wid yer
butcher in advance if ye think to feed thim wolfs. They're hungry and
they're thirsty be nature."
"Never mind. Send thim on, both factions. I'll take care o' thim.
They're a fine lot o' min, and I'll be good to 'em."
John verified Mike's description of them when they met, both gangs, at
their afternoon recess in Mike's barroom. They conversed in shouts and
whoops, uttering words that, while they bore a slight resemblance to
English, were in the main unintelligible. Murphy endeavored to find
those whose sole-leather flesh had stopped a bullet, but could not.
However, digging his fingers into the breasts and shoulders of a few of
the quietest convinced him that the story could not be far wrong. The
stiffened muscles felt like bones.
He treated them all, and was glad, when he saw them drink, that he had
not promised them free whisky at his house; but he reiterated his
promise of "mate" three times a day, and secured their promise to board
at his house while waiting for sailing-day. This done, he finished his
visit and returned to New York.
His first task was to estimate the business situation; it was the same,
except that his boarders had gone at the request of Mrs. Murphy. This
was good, almost as good as the news that Williams's old crew had
scattered and that there was not a deep-water man in port to aid
Hennesey in his first job in the shipping business. He cautiously
hunted for Hennesey, meeting him by accident, as he said, in the street
at daytime, safe from possible bricks or clubs coming out of the dark.
"And how are ye, Tim?" he said, exuberantly, as he extended his hand.
"So so," answered Hennesey, ignoring the greeting and eying his late
employer suspiciously. "And how is it wid you?"
"Fine, Hennesey, fine. In a week I'll have as fine a crew of min in me
house as iver ye laid eyes on. Lake sailors, every wan o' thim. And
I'll be after havin' to find thim a ship."
"That's easier than to find the min," said Hennesey, still watching for
a sudden demonstration of Murphy's fist. "I'll be goin' to Philadelphy,
I think, or Boston."
"And it'll cost ye a hundred, Hennesey. I've done it. It takes a cool
hundred to bring a crew on from either port. Don't be a fule, Hennesey.
I'm domned sorry I slugged ye. I wuz put out, ye see, but I felt bad
about it nixt day. I can't deal wid Williams, the dog, but I can wid
you, and you can wid him."
"Speak up. What do ye want, John Murphy?"
"That we git together, Hennesey, for our mutual advantage. Give up this
idee of gittin' me business away from me. Ye can't do it. I'm too well
established, and the only skipper I've blacklisted is Williams, and
he's all ye've got."
"What do I git out of it?"
"Ye git your blood-money from Williams, widout huntin' up yer min. I
git the allotment agin' the expense I'm put to in feedin' thim. The
regular thing, except thot ye make more than ye would as a runner--only
ye've got to muster 'em into the shippin'-office and sign 'em. I can't
appear. Williams might be there, and cold-deck the deal."
"Murphy, gimme me job back and I'm wid ye. But I want me priveleges--a
drink whin I nade it, and access to the bar for me frinds."
"Right, Hennesey; let bygones be bygones. Put this job through as
shippin'-master, and thin go on wid me as runner. Shake hands."
They shook, Murphy joyous and forgiving, Hennesey cold, suspicious, and
unforgiving. A handshake is a poor auditing of a fist blow.
"Whin does Williams want his min?" asked Murphy.
"In two weeks, about. Twinty-four able seamen."
"Thot's good. I'll have to feed 'em a week, and thot's dead loss; but
I'll be contint; yes, I'll be contint, Hennesey, if I can furnish
Williams wid the right kind of a crew, God d--bliss him!"
"Ye're gittin' religion, are ye not?" asked Hennesey. "I heard he
slugged ye around decks and bundled ye down into yer boat.'"
"Yes"--and Murphy's eyes shone--"but thot's all past, Hennesey. I'm not
the man to hold a grudge. Ye know thot."
"But I am," muttered Hennesey, as they parted.
And thus did Murphy plan his dark vengeance upon Captain Williams. It
went through without a hitch; the twenty-four wild men from Galway and
Limerick, shipped on by Brother Mike, arrived at Murphy's house in a
few days, and were housed and fed--"mate" with every meal--to the
scandal of Mrs. Murphy, who averred that she "niver seed such min."
"Fur they have no table manners, John," she said. "What's the use
givin' thim knives and forks, whin they don't know how to use thim?
Foor o' thim cut their mouths."
"Niver mind, Norah," said Murphy, kindly. "Give thim spoons; for a
spoon is like a shovel, ye know, and they're accustomed to shovels. And
give 'em bafe stew and mashed praties."
"I'll give 'em rat pizen, if I have to sarve 'em much longer,"
responded the good lady. "I was a silf-respictin' woman before I
married you, John Murphy, and didn't have to consort wid lunatics."
"Niver mind, Norah," answered Murphy, soothingly. "I'll be rid o' thim
in a few days, and ye'll have a new driss out o' the proceeds."
The proceeds were secured. Murphy collected a week's board in advance
from each, and induced them to deposit their money with him for
safe-keeping. Then he got them drunk on his tried and true whisky, and
kept them so; then he collected ten dollars from each for a ticket to
Queenstown on the ship which would sail in a few days; and then he
audited an account for each, charging them with money advanced as they
asked for it. As he always trebled the amount that they asked for, and
as they were too drunk and befuddled to contest the word of so good and
kind a man, Murphy had a tidy sum due him when the allotments were
signed.
This happened in due time and form. Captain. Williams, knowing by
experience that no crew would sign with him if he showed himself,
remained away from the shipping-office and took his ship down to the
Horseshoe with the help of his two mates, cook, steward, and a tug,
leaving his articles in the care of Hennesey, and trusting to him to
sign the crew and bring them down in the tug that would tow him out
past the light-ship.
Hennesey did his part. As the _Albatross_ was bound for Liverpool _via_
Queenstown in ballast, there was only part deception in walking the
twenty-four to the shipping-office to sign their names (or marks) on
the ship's articles, which they cheerfully did, under the impression
that it was a necessary matter of form connected with their purchase of
tickets; and while the Shipping Commissioner marveled somewhat at the
hilarity and the ingenuous self-assertiveness of this crew of
sailormen, he forebore to express himself, and left the matter to
Captain Williams and Providence. So, with all their allotment or
advance signed away to Murphy against the entertainment they had
received, and with their pockets depleted from their sublime trust in
Murphy's bookkeeping, they went back to the boarding-house, the signed
slaves of Bucko Bill Williams, a man they had not met.
It was a wild night, that last night in the boarding-house. The Galways
and the Limericks got to fighting, and only Murphy's "pull" with the
police prevented a raid. Mrs. Murphy quit the scene early in the
evening, going back to her mother with unkind comments on the company
that Murphy kept, and Murphy, with a brick in his pocket, and sometimes
in his hand, was busy each minute in settling a dispute between this
man and that. At last he and Hennesey agreed that it was time to quiet
them; so Hennesey, behind the bar, filled twenty-four pint flasks, each
with a moderate addition of "knockout drops," and with much flourish of
oratory brought the crowd up to the bar for a last drink and the
presentation of the flasks. The drinks were also seasoned, and soon
Murphy and Hennesey had a long hour's work in lifting the twenty-four
able seamen up to the bedrooms, to sleep until the express wagons came
to take them and their dunnage to the tug. They came at ten o'clock,
and the unconscious men were carried down with their grips and boxes,
and loaded in like so many bags of potatoes.
"It's done, Hennesey," said Murphy, as, perspiring and fatigued, he
fetched back into the barroom. "Now, Hennesey, let's you and me have a
drink, and we'll drink to the health and the happiness of Bucko Bill
Williams, the dog."
"Right," said Hennesey, going behind the bar and bringing out the
bottle and the glasses; "but we'll need to hurry, Murphy, for I've got
to go down wid the tug, ye know." As he spoke he passed his hand over
the glass he had placed for Murphy, and Murphy, glancing out through
the door at the departing express wagons, did not see.
But Hennesey had another express wagon in reserve, and when Murphy
sagged down and sought the nearest chair and table, too stupefied to
even wonder at his sleepiness, Hennesey called this wagon from the
corner and, with the help of the driver, bundled Murphy into it,
climbed in himself, and rode down to the dock and the waiting tug.
* * * * *
It was broad daylight when Murphy woke, in a forecastle bunk, with a
dull, dragging pain in his head which he knew from experience was the
after effects of a drug. He rolled out, noticing that each bunk held a
sleeping man, and, examining a few, recognized his boarders. The plan
had succeeded, but why was he there? Then he remembered that last
drink, and calling down silent curses upon Hennesey, went out on deck.
The big ship was plowing along before the wind with not a rag set
except the foretopmast-staysail and jib. Amidships was a man coiling up
ropes, at the wheel was another man, and pacing the top of the
after-house was Captain Williams, red-bearded, red-eyed, and truculent
of gesture and expression. These three bore marks of hard usage,
bruises, black eyes, swollen noses, and contusions. Murphy climbed the
forecastle deck and looked astern. The land was a thin line of blue on
the horizon.
He descended and went aft. The man coiling ropes, whom Murphy learned
later was the first mate, looked furtively at him as he passed, and
turned in his tracks so as not to show him his back. Murphy judged that
he was nervous over something that had happened--something connected
with his injuries. Climbing the poop steps, he was stopped by Captain
Williams, who descended from the house and faced him.
"Well, Murphy, what the hell are _you_ doing here? Are you in on this
deal?"
"What deal, Captain?" asked Murphy, meekly, for it was no place for
self-respect.
"This deal I got from your discharged runner, Hennesey. I only dealt
with the fellow because he told me he had quit you. And look at what he
gave me for a crew--twenty-four wild Micks that, let alone the ropes,
can't speak English or understand it. Are you a party to this trick,
Murphy?"
"I'm not," declared Murphy, stoutly. "The domned villain doped me last
night, and must ha' put me aboard wid the crew he shipped for you. What
for, I don't know. He had yer full count, as he told me."
"Guess you're the man he hoisted up himself, saying you were willing to
work your passage without pay. So I let you come and sleep it off."
"He did!" stormed Murphy, "the dirty, ungrateful dog! I took him in and
gave him wark, and I took him back after I'd discharged him. And now I
git this! O' course, Captain, ye'll put me aboard the first ship me
meet bound in."
"Not much, I won't. If you took Hennesey back you're in on this deal."
"I'm not in it. Where's Hennesey now, Captain Williams?"
"Went back in the tug, I suppose. He didn't stop to get his receipt
signed for the men he delivered. So, he gets no money for this kind of
a crew. They're not sailors, and he loses. Moreover, Murphy, you lose.
Hennesey brought me the articles, and every man Jack o' them signed his
allotment over to you as favored creditor. That means that Hennesey got
this bunch out of your house. As they're not sailors, I mean to disrate
them to boys at five dollars a month. That's the allotment you get, if
you care to sue for it; but I told the tug captain to notify the owners
to pay no allotment notes."
"Ye did?" spluttered Murphy. "Well, Williams, I'll sue, don't ye fear.
I'll sue."
"That's as may be," said Williams, coldly. "Meanwhile, you'll sing
small, do what you're told, and work your passage; and any time that
you forget where you are, call on me and I'll tell you."
"Ye want me to wark me passage, do ye? And what'll I do? It's gone
twinty years since I've been to sea. I can't go aloft, wi' the fat on
me."
"I see," said the skipper, seriously, "that your displacement is more
than your dimensions call for. Can you boss that bunch of Kollkenny
cats?"
"I can," said Murphy, mournfully and hopelessly, "if ye'll do yer
share. Give me a brick to carry in me pocket, and I'll make 'em wark.
They're rival factions from Limerick and Galway, and each side'll wark
like hill to bate the other. I can stir 'em up to this, but I can't
control thim widout a brick."
"All right. Dig a brick out of the galley floor. Anything in reason to
get sail on this ship. The topsails 'll do till they learn."
"All right, Captain," said Murphy, meekly. "I'm in for it, and I've got
to make the best of it. Shall I rouse 'em out now?"
"No; they're no good till sober. But steal their bottles before they
wake. You fitted them out with some pretty strong stuff, I take it.
They wakened at daylight, just as the tug came, mobbed the faces off me
and the two mates, and only manned the windlass at last when I told
them it made the boat go. Well, I can understand the rivalry. They took
sides, each gang together, and hove on the brakes, faster than I ever
saw a windlass go round before. When they'd got the anchor apeak and
the mate told them to stop it made no difference. They hove the anchor
up to the hawse-pipes, and would have parted the chain if it had been
weaker. Then they took another drink out of their bottles and went to
sleep. The tug pushed us out past the light-ship and left us. So, here
we are."
"Well, Captain," said the subdued Murphy, "I'll git me brick, and let
me ask ye. If ye've any shovels lyin' loose, stow 'em away. A shovel is
a deadly weapon in the hands o' wan o' these fellys."
Murphy went forward to the galley, and soon had pried out a solid,
well-preserved brick from under the stove in the galley floor, against
the aggrieved protest of the Chinese cook.
"Dry up, ye Chink," said Murphy. "Tell me, though, what's the bill o'
fare for the forecastle. Mate three times a day?"
"Meat foul timey one week," answered the Chinaman.
"God help ye, doctor!" said Murphy, kindly. "Kape well widin yer
galley, and have a carvin'-knife sharp; or better still, dig out
another brick for yersilf. I've troubles o' me own."
Stepping out of the galley, Murphy met Hennesey emerging from the port
forecastle door.
"Well, ye rakin's o' Newgate, and what are _you_ doin' here?" he
demanded, fiercely. "Ye doped me successfully, Hennesey, and here I am
wid our account unsettled. But what brings _you_ here?"
"Kape yer hands off me, John Murphy, and I'll tell ye. The dope in the
bottles was too strong for me, but not for thim. When they wakened at
daylight they found me among 'em with the tug alongside, and insisted
that I drink wid thim 'fore goin' aboard the tug."
"And ye did?"
"I did. They had their fingers at me throat, Murphy. So I drank. I git
this for tryin' to help you out in your schemes, John Murphy."
"And I git this for not watchin' you, Tim Hennesey. Gwan aft; the old
man 'll make ye a bosun like me; then come forrard and git yerself a
brick agin' the time whin they wake up. Our lives are in danger whin
they find out they've got to wark a wind-jammer across to the old sod.
We'll settle our private account later on."
Murphy accompanied Hennesey aft and listened to his explanations to
Captain Williams. They were glib and apologetic.
"I didn't know," he said, "that they weren't sailormin. And they were
the only min in port, and Murphy had 'em; so I shipped 'em."
"Exactly," answered the captain, coldly; "and they shipped you. You two
fellows are caught in the plant you prepared for me, and you've got to
stand for it. Ever been to sea, Hennesey?"
"Tin years, Captain. I'm an able seaman, though not a heavy man."
"Heavy enough. Get a brick out of the galley, and I'll make you a bosun
without pay. You two will make those tarriers work. Come aft to the
wheel, the pair of you. Mr. Baker"--this to the man coiling ropes, who
dropped his task and followed--"Mr. Baker," said the captain, "and Mr.
Sharp"--he turned to the man at the wheel--"these two men have some
influence over the crew, and I've made them acting bosuns. They've been
to sea, and their part is to loose canvas and put ropes into the hands
of the others. Your part is to see that they do it."
The two officers turned their swollen faces toward Murphy and Hennesey,
and inspected them through closed and blackened eyelids. Then they
nodded, and the introduction was complete.
"Come, Hennesey," said Murphy, briskly, now that the situation was
defined. "We'll be gettin' a brick for ye, and wan each for the skipper
and the mates. We'll need 'em. Thin we'll go through 'em for the dope,
and then we'll loose the canvas."
For this short run across the Atlantic Captain Williams had shipped
neither carpenter, sailmaker, nor boatswains, he and his two mates, a
weakling steward and the Chinese cook representing the afterguard until
the advent of Murphy and Hennesey. To properly equip this afterguard,
Murphy pried out six more bricks from under the galley stove, solemnly
distributed them with instructions as to their use, and then he and
Hennesey replevined the half-empty bottles from the sleepers, an easy
task for such skilled craftsmen.
About noon the twenty-four awakened and clamored for their dinner. It
was served, and as it contained meat in plenty it was satisfactory;
then, smoking their clay pipes, they mustered on deck and, more or less
unconsciously, divided into two parts, the Galways separate from the
Limericks.
"Loose the foretopsail, Hennesey," said Murphy, as he looked at them.
"Overhaul the gear and stop it so ye can come down. Thin take the
halyards to the fo'c'stle capstan. I'll take the main."
The first mate was content to remain out of the proceedings for the
present. Murphy and Hennesey went aloft, performed their part, and came
down; then, when the two falls of the halyards were led to the two
capstans, Murphy, with his hand in his pocket and his heart in his
mouth, went among them.
"I want," he said, sourly, "twilve good min, but I don't know that I
can git them. Ye're a lot o' bog-trotters that don't know enough to
heave on a capstan."
"The hill we don't!" uttered a Galway man close to him.
"We l'arned thot in Checa-a-go."
"Ye mane," said Murphy, "that the Limerick boys _tried_ to l'arn, but
they couldn't. The wark's too hard."
"Fwat's too ha-a-rd?" answered the Galway. "Ye domned murderer, fwat's
too hard? D'y' think we can't wurruk?"
"D'ye think ye _can_ wark?" said Murphy. "Thin git at that capstan, you
Galway min. And git busy, quick, or I'll give the job to the Limerick
boys. They're passably good min, I think."
"To hill wi' thim! Hurrah, here, b'ys. C'm'an and pull the mon's rope.
Who says we can't wurruk?"
They joyously and enthusiastically surrounded the forecastle capstan,
shipped the brakes, and began to heave, with black looks at the envious
Limericks, to whom Murphy now addressed himself.
"Are yez lookin' for wark?" he demanded.
"Yis," they chorused.
"Man that 'midship capstan, thin. Beat these Galway sogers and I'll
give ye wark right along."
With whoops and shouts they flocked to the capstan amidships, and began
to compete, shoving on the bars, cheering and encouraging each other
and deriding those on the forecastle deck, who responded. It was a tie;
the Galways had about a minute start, but the Limericks finished only a
minute behind. Murphy and Hennesey nippered the falls at the pinrail,
and belayed when they slacked.
"It goes, Hennesey," said Murphy, wiping the perspiration from his
brow. "By puttin' wan gang agin' the other, maybe we won't need to show
the bricks."
"Yes," replied Hennesey, "that's all right; but I oncet heard an old,
wise skipper say that any farmer can make sail, but it takes a sailor
to take it in. What'll we do if it comes on to blow?"
"That's the least o' your troubles, and mine, Tim Hennesey. Put yer
trust in Jasus and loose that mizzentopsail, while I get 'em to steady
the braces."
But the demoralized first mate had so far aroused himself as to attend
to the loosing of the mizzentopsail and topgallantsail; so Murphy with
a little cajolery and ridicule induced the crew to sheet home and
tauten the braces, then mustered them aft to the mizzentopsail halyards
and asked them if they could, the whole lazy two dozen of them,
masthead that yard by hand, without the aid of the capstan. They
noisily averred that they could, and they did, nearly parting the
halyards when the yard could go no higher. The chain-sheets they could
not break, hard as they tried.
"It's not according to seamanship, Hennesey," said Murphy, "to man yer
halyards before ye sheet home; but--any way at all with this bunch. Now
git up to the foreto'gallant and the royal, while I take the main. The
poor mate's done his stunt on the mizzen."
And so, by doing the seamanly work themselves and putting ropes into
the hands of the crew, the mate and the two boatswains got sail on the
ship, even to the jib-topsail and the mainroyal staysail. Captain
Williams discreetly remained in the background, only asserting himself
once, when he knocked an Irishman off the poop. For this indiscretion
he was menaced by violent death, and only saved himself by an appeal to
Murphy, respect for whose diplomacy was fast overcoming Captain
Williams's dislike of him.
"What do ye think?" stormed Murphy, as he faced the angry men at the
break of the poop. "Whin ye came over in the steamer did they allow ye
up in the bridge, or aft o' the engine-room hatch? Stay forrard where
ye belong, and don't git presumptions, just 'cause ye've been a year in
a free country. Yer goin' back to Ireland now, to eat praties and drink
water. There's no whisky on this boat, and no mate three times a day.
No mate, d'ye understand?"
"No mate!" they vociferated. "No whusky!"
"No, ye bundle o' bad min, no whisky. Ye've drunk up what ye had, and
that was in America. Yer not in America now, and ye'll git no whisky,
nor mate, barrin' four times a week."
"We paid fur ut," they declaimed. "How kin a mon wurruk widout it?"
"Ye _can_ wark widout it and ye will. Ye'll pull ropes as I tell you,
and as ye l'arn ye'll steer the boat in yer turn."
"We'll shteer, will we?"
"Yes, ye'll steer, straight for old Ireland and praties."
"Hurrah! We'll git to the ould sod, will we?"
"Yes, but ye'll do it yerselves, mind ye. No kicks, no scraps. Ye'll do
as yer told, and pull ropes, and wark."
"We'll wurruk," they declared, noisily. "It's not the loikes o' you
th't'll foind the wurruk we can't do, nayther."
"We'll see," said Murphy, nodding his head portentously.
"Meanwhile, take yerself away from this end o' the boat, and stay away
from it; and don't ye ever raise yer hands agin' any man that lives in
this end o' the boat, or things'll happen to ye. Now git."
He drew forth the brick, and they left his vicinity.
"Captain Williams," said Murphy, solemnly, "that was a close call. If
ye'll take my advice, Captain, ye won't lay hands on 'em."
"Why?" answered the skipper. "Do you think I'm going to have them
trooping around my cabin?"
"No, not at all; but show 'em the brick, only don't use it, or they'll
throw it back. And don't make any gun-play, for they don't know what it
means, and it's no good, for ye can't shoot into thim. They're that
hard that they'll turn a bullet, I'm told."
"Possibly," said the captain, looking at his hand. "I hurt myself when
I hit him. Well, Murphy, all right, if you can control them. I can see
that I might have to shoot them all if I shot one, and that wouldn't
do."
"No, of course not, sir. I'll l'arn a few of them to steer, and the
mates'll be rid of it."
So, under these conditions they worked the ship across the western
ocean. By tact and "sign language" Murphy induced them to stand their
tricks at the wheel; but they would stand no tutelage, and steered in
their own way--a zizzag track over the sea. Another limitation which
they imposed upon their usefulness was their emphatic refusal to stand
watch, though from inward impulse they divided themselves into watches.
They would work factory hours, or not at all, so Captain Williams had
to be content with the loss of most of his light sails before the
passage was half over. For a sudden increase of wind at night would
occasionally prove too much for Murphy or Hennesey, with the mate on
watch. As for going aloft, day or night, their case was too hopeless,
even for the optimistic Murphy, even had they been willing to leave the
deck--which, most decidedly, they were not.
Even so, this passage might have reached a successful termination, the
homeward-bound Irishmen safely landed at Queenstown, and the others
graduated in a much-needed schooling in the doctrine of the brotherhood
of man; but Captain Williams, against Murphy's urgent and earnest plea
for more meat on the forecastle menu, persisted in sticking to the
original diet. The _Albatross_ was a "full-and-plenty" ship--that
is, one in which, with the supposed consent of the crew, the government
scale was discarded in favor of one containing more vegetables and less
meat. But these men knew nothing of this, or the reasons for it; and
while believing that there was no whisky in the ship, they had accepted
this deprivation, they were firmly assured that there was plenty of
meat; so day by day their discontent grew, until by the time the ship
had reached soundings they were ripe for open revolt. And it was the
small, weakling steward that brought it about.
The passage had been good for all except this steward. It had brought
to Captain Williams and his two mates, now recovered in mind and body
from the first friction, the unspoken but fixed conception that there
were men in the world not afraid of them. It had reduced Murphy's fat,
and his resentment against Hennesey and Captain Williams. It had
increased Hennesey's respect for Murphy and lessened his respect for
himself; for without Murphy's moral support he could not have done his
part. It had eliminated the alcohol from the veins and the brains of
the twenty-four wild men, and lessened the propensity to kill at the
same time that it lessened their fear of a brick. It had lessened the
sublime, ages-old contempt for white men that the Chinese cook shared
with his countrymen, and which simply _had_ to yield to the fear of
death inspired by three or four frenzied Irish faces at the galley
door, their owners demanding "mate." But the small steward, busy with
his cabin dishes, his cabin carpets, only visiting the galley to obtain
the cabin meals, had seen nothing, felt nothing, and learned nothing.
And, with the indifference of ignorance, he had left his brick in the
galley--the fatal spot where it ought not to have been, in view of what
was to happen.
For three stormy days the ship had been charging along before a wind
that had increased to a gale, and a following sea that threatened to
climb aboard. The jib-topsail, the skysails and royals, the lighter
middle staysails, and the fore and mizzen topgallantsails had been
blown away, and the ship was practically under topsails, a bad
equipment of canvas with which to claw off a lee shore. The lee shore
developed at daylight of the fourth stormy morning, a dim blue
heightening of the horizon to the east, dead ahead; and Captain
Williams, who had been unable to get a sight with his sextant for six
days, could only determine that his dead reckoning, based upon the wild
steering of his crew, had brought him too far to the north, and that
the land he saw was the coast above Mizen Head.
After breakfast, when factory hours began, he called all hands to the
braces; and they came, bracing the yards for the starboard tack, to
keep away from that menacing lee shore; but, during the work, Murphy,
by way of encouragement, called the crew's attention to the dim blot of
blue to leeward.
"The Imerald Isle, boys," he declared. "Wark, ye watchmakers, wark, and
git home."
They worked nobly, but wondered why the ship was heading away from the
Emerald Isle, and expressed their wonder loudly and profanely. In vain
did Murphy explain that Queenstown was around the corner to the south,
and it was to Queenstown that they were bound. Their dissatisfaction
grew, and at dinner-time lifted them above the weakening influence of
the "sign language."
They had never taken account of the days when meat was due, ascribing
the fixed hiatuses to the unkindness of the Chinese cook; and when they
mustered at the galley door at noon and the cook handed them a huge pan
of bean soup they raged at him, incoherently, but vehemently.
"Whaur's th' mate--the mate? Giv's the mate, ye haythen! giv's the
mate, domyersool!"
The cook shrank back before their gleaming eyes and threatening fists,
and they crowded into the galley, where, as fate determined, the mild
little steward was gathering up the cabin dinner. He seized his brick.
"Now, here, you men," he said, bravely, "you get right out of this
galley. Do you hear?" And he waved his brick threateningly.
"Whaur's the mate? Giv's the mate, ye man-killers."
"The mate is aft. You know that well as I do. Go right out of this
galley."
"Whaur's the mate?"
"Aft in the cabin, I told you. Get out of here."
Even now things might have been well, for a few of them showed a
willingness to go aft for the "mate." But the men of the other county
came to the other galley door, and, menaced from both sides, the
steward unwisely threw his brick. It struck the head of the foremost
Irishman (it was the man on his wedding trip) and almost knocked him
down. The cook frantically followed suit, and carnage began. The two
gangs crowded into the narrow apartment, and the cook and steward soon
went underfoot before the shower of fist-blows and kicks. They would
assuredly have been injured in the _melee_ had not a Limerick face
approached too temptingly close to a Galway fist and diverted the
storm. In utter fear of death the two crawled to the stove and pried up
a couple of bricks while the rival factions fought each other. But
their action was observed, and with whoops and oaths the combatants
armed themselves, while the cook and steward crawled under the galley
table for safety.
The captain and first mate were in the cabin, waiting for their dinner.
The second mate was near the wheel, admonishing the Irish helmsman, as
he dared, in the way of better steering "by-the-wind." Hennesey was in
the port forecastle, just turning out after his forenoon watch below,
and Murphy was amidships; but the sound of oaths, shrieks of rage and
pain, and the incessant hammering of bricks upon the bulkheads and the
pots and pans of the galley brought all to the scene, the captain and
mates with their pistols.
"Hold on, Captain," said Murphy; "don't shoot any wan. Just let 'em
fight it out, then they'll be more tractable."
This seemed reasonable, and the group watched from the main-hatch.
There was a steady flight of bricks out through each galley door, some
impacting upon the rails and falling to the deck, others going
overboard. Occasionally an Irishman would reel out in company with the
brick that had impelled him; but, after crawling around on all-fours
for a moment, he would go back with a brick gleaned from the deck. At
last, however, one came out with a little more momentum than
usual--enough to carry him over to the rail; and from this point of
view he could see the group at the hatch. He glared at them from under
his tousled hair, then uttered a war-whoop.
"Ei-hei-ee, in thaur!" he yelled, "quit yer foolin' an' c'm'an out.
Here be the bloody murders, the man-killers, the domned sons uv a
landlord. C'm'an out, ye divils."
They heard, and they came, from both doors, with bloody faces and
blackened eyes, and, seeing the captain and his aids, charged as one
man. In vain Murphy's poised brick and Hennesey's persuasive voice. In
vain the leveled pistols of the captain and mates and their thundering
orders to stop or be shot down. There came a volley of bricks, and the
captain's pistol was knocked from his hand, while a second brick,
striking him on the head, robbed him of sense and volition. Each of the
mates fired his pistol once, but not again; the bullets flew wide, and
the firearms were twisted from their hands, while they were tripped up,
struck, and kicked about until helpless to rise or resist. Hennesey and
Murphy were also borne to the deck and punished. Some might have been
killed had not one inspired Celt given voice to an original idea.
"Lock 'em up!" he shouted. "Lock 'em up in the kitchen, an' nail the
dures on thim!"
They joyously accepted the suggestion. The four weak and stricken
conscious men were dragged or shoved into the galley by some, while
others lifted the unconscious captain after them. Then the doors were
closed, and soon they heard the hammering of nails over the jangle of
voices. Then the jangle of voices took on a new and distinct note of
unanimity.
"Turn the boat, Denny," they shouted to the man at the wheel. "Turn the
boat around. We'll go home in sphite o' thim, the vilyuns."
Their footfalls sounded fainter and fainter as they rushed aft; and
Murphy picked himself up from the floor, now almost denuded of its
brick paving.
"For the love of Gawd," he groaned, wiping the blood from his eyes,
"are they goin' to beach her in this gale?"
The galley was lighted by two large deadlights, one each side, too
small to crawl through, but large enough for a man's head. Murphy
reached his head through one of them and looked aft. They had
surrounded the wheel, and their war-cries were audible. As many as six
were handling the spokes, and the big ship was squaring away before the
wind, heading for that dim spot of blue in the murk and smoke to
leeward. Murphy could see it when the ship pitched into a hollow--about
forty miles away.
"And us locked up like rats in a trap," he muttered. "She'll strike in
four hours, and Gawd help us all if we can't git out of here."
But there was no getting out, and they made the best of it. The cook
and steward emerged from beneath the table, and made more or less
frivolous comments on the condition of the galley and the ruin of the
dinner, until silenced by the irate Murphy. The two mates took their
hands from their aching heads and showed interest in life; and in time
Captain Williams came to his senses and sat up on the floor, smeared
with bean soup and cluttered with dented pots, pans, and
stove-fittings. He was told the situation, and wisely accepted it; for
nothing could be done.
And from aft came to their ears the joyous whoops of the homeward-bound
men, close to their native land and anxious to get to it by the
shortest route. Murphy occasionally looked out at them; they were all
near the wheel, cursing and berating those handling the spokes, and
being cursed in return. But they were not quarreling.
"Me brother Mike was right," muttered Murphy, as he drew his head in
after a look at them. "They've forgotten their dinner. They'd rather
fight than ate, but rather wark than fight."
The big, light ship, even with upper canvas gone and the yards braced
to port, was skimming along over the heaving seas at a ten-knot rate,
and Murphy's occasional glimpses of that growing landfall showed him
details of rock and wood and red sandy soil that bespoke a steep beach
and a rocky bottom. The air was full of spume and the gale whistled
dismally through the rigging with a sound very much like that of
Murphy's big base-burner in his Front Street boarding-house, when the
chill wintry winds whistled over the housetops. He wondered if he would
ever return.
"God help us, Skipper," he said, solemnly, "if we don't strike at high
tide. For at low tide we'll go to pieces an' be drowned as the water
rises."
"I looked it up this morning," said the captain, painfully; for he was
still dazed from the effects of the brick. "It is high tide on this
coast at four this afternoon."
"All to the good, as far as our lives are consarned," said Murphy; "and
mebbe for your ship, Skipper. It'll be hard to salve her, of course;
but she won't git the poundin' she'd get at low-water mark."
"I don't care. It's a matter for the underwriters. Don't bother me. I
may kill you, Murphy, and your man Hennesey, some day, but not now. I'm
too sick."
They waited in silence until the crash came--a sickening sound of riven
timbers and snapping wire rope. Then, from the sudden stopping of the
ship, there came a heightening and a strengthening of the song of the
wind in the rigging, and the thumping of upper spars, jolted clear of
their fastenings by the shock. Looking out, Murphy saw that the
topgallantmasts, with their yards, were hanging by their gear,
threatening to fall at any heave of the ship on her rocky bed. And he
saw that the beach was not a hundred yards distant. Also, that the crew
was flocking forward.
"Let us out of here," he called, as they came within hearing. "What
more do ye want, ye bogtrotters? Ye've wrecked the man's boat, but d'ye
want to kill us?"
"Yis," they chorused. "Why not, ye divils? Ye've nearly killed us all,
dom yez. No mate, no whusky, no money. Tell us the road to Galway."
"An' the road to Limerick," said another. "An' whin do we git paid
aff?"
"I'll have ye in jail, ye hyeenas," said Murphy. "That's yer pay, and
that's the road to Galway and Limerick. Wait till the coast guard comes
along. They'll git ye."
He drew back to avoid a brick that threatened to enter the deadlight,
and the conversation ended.
Meanwhile the ship was slowly swinging around broadside to the beach.
She was too high out of water for the seas to board her, though they
pounded her weather side with deafening noise, and with each impact she
was lifted shoreward a few feet more. Finally the crashings ceased, and
they knew that, with water in the hold, she had gone as high as the
seas could drive her. Then, with the going down of the tide, the heavy
poundings of the sea grew less and the voices of the crew on the
forecastle deck more audible.
"Can we make it in three jumps, Terrence?" they heard.
"No, ye fule. The wather's goin' down. Howld yer whist."
Murphy, looking out through the deadlight, could see nothing of the
water between the ship and the beach; but far down to the south he
discerned a team of horses dragging a wagon holding a boat, and this he
explained to the skipper.
"The coast guard," explained the latter. "God grant that they get here
before that bunch gets away. English law is severe upon mutineers."
But in this Captain Williams was doomed to disappointment. The coast
guard arrived in time and released them. But before this each man of
the twenty-four had passed before the open deadlight, derided and
jeered the unlucky prisoners, called them unprintable names, and slid
down the side on a rope to dry land.
Murphy looked at them climbing the hills inland, their whoops and yells
coming back to him like paeans of victory.
"And what county do ye think this is, Skipper?" he asked.
"The county of Cork, of course," answered the captain.
"Well," said Murphy, "an enemy's country. We'll hope that the county o'
Cork 'll take care o' thim. They're beyand you and me and Hennesey,
Skipper."