IN WHICH PHIL SIGNS THE SHIPPING PAPERS AND RECOGNIZES THE NEW MATE.
I had no difficulty in believing that Mr. Ben Waterford was a rascal
and a swindler, but it was hard to realize that one who had occupied
so respectable a position in Chicago had sunk so low as to commit the
crimes of forgery and robbery. With my father's letter before me, I was
satisfied that Mr. A. McGregor was no other than Mr. Ben Waterford.
After he had committed forgery in St. Louis, he had abundant reason for
wishing to remain unseen and unknown.
He had obtained the money on the forged checks, crossed the country
to Cincinnati, and joined the steamer in which I had taken passage.
It was possible, and even probable, that he knew I had a considerable
sum of money with me, and that he had come on board for the purpose of
obtaining it, as much for revenge on account of the check I had put
upon his operations as for the sake of the money. My friends in St.
Louis all knew that I was going to Europe, and I had procured my gold
at a broker's. His iniquity seemed to be prosperous at the present
time, for so far as I had learned, he had yet escaped detection.
My desire to be a sailor, even for a few weeks, got the better of other
considerations, and before the next morning I had about decided to
take passage in the Michigan, or rather to ship as one of the crew for
the outward voyage to Palermo. I met the captain at breakfast, and he
was quite sober then. I supposed that he kept sober on board ship, for
the discharge of his responsible duties required a clear head, though
the wonderful mate was competent to handle the vessel. He was just as
persistent sober as he had been drunk, that I should embark in the
Michigan, and I was weak enough to believe that I had made a strong
friend in him. I might never again have such an opportunity to go to
sea, with the master interested in me, and desirous of serving me.
I am satisfied that, if I had not met Captain Farraday, I should have
asked my father to send me the money needed for my trip, and taken
the steamer, as I had intended. Such a powerful friend in the cabin
would necessarily afford me a very comfortable berth in the forecastle.
He was the superior even of the wonderful mate; and, if the latter
did not take a fancy to me, as the friend of the captain I should
not be likely to suffer any great hardships. I might even expect an
occasional invitation to dine in the cabin, and certainly, if I was not
comfortably situated on board, I should have the courage to inform my
excellent friend of the fact, and he would set me right at once.
I wrote a long letter to my father, detailing the loss of my money,
and the reasons why I had changed my plans. I thought that the
circumstances justified the change; but my strongest reason was, that
Captain Farraday was my friend, and I should never have so favorable an
opportunity again to learn seamanship. After I had written the letter,
I read it over, and I concluded that my argument was strong enough to
convince my father. Having mailed this letter, I looked about me for
the captain. I found him at dinner, rather boosy again, but very kind,
considerate, and friendly.
"Well, my hearty, are you ready yet for a life on the ocean wave?" said
he.
"I have about concluded to go with you," I replied.
"Have you? Well, you have about concluded to do the biggest thing you
ever did in your life."
"I have written to my father that I should go in the Michigan."
"Good, my hearty! You are on the high road to fortune now," added the
captain, rubbing his hands.
"I don't expect to make my fortune. All I desire is to work my
passage," I replied, rather amused at his enthusiasm.
"Fortunes have been made by a single voyage. I mean this shall be my
last cruise."
"I hope you will make your fortune, sir."
"I expect to do it on this trip. Then I shall pay off the mortgage on
my farm, and keep quiet for the rest of my life."
"I hope you will. But what time do you sail, sir?"
"Some time this afternoon. The new mate hasn't come yet; but he's in
the city, for I've heard from him. He's the owner's nephew, you see,
and I can't drive him up, as I should another man. We will go on board
about three o'clock."
After dinner I went up to my room, and put on the suit of old clothes
which I had brought with me to wear on board of the steamer. It was
not a salt rig, but I have since learned that it is not the tarpaulin
and the seaman's trousers that make the sailor. I procured a carriage
to convey my trunk to the wharf, and Captain Farraday rode with me.
We called a shore boat, and were put on board of the bark, which had
hauled off into the stream. She lay with her anchor hove short, and her
topsails loosed, ready to get under way the moment the order was given.
The crew had been put on board by a shipping agent, who remained by
the vessel, to see that none of them deserted. I should say that the
majority of them were beastly drunk, while all of them were under the
influence of liquor. Without exception they were the hardest looking
set of men I had ever seen collected together. I listened for a moment
to the wild curses that rang through the air, and my heart was sick.
The idea of being for three weeks in the same vessel with such a set of
wretches was intolerable. They were of all nations, and the lowest and
vilest that the nations could contribute.
The sight of them was a terrible shock to me, and my romantic notions
about a "life on the ocean wave," so vividly set forth by my friend
Captain Farraday, were mocked by the stern reality. I had taken my
elegant trunk on board; if it had only been in the boat, I should have
returned to the shore, without stopping to say good by to the captain.
I fled from the forecastle to escape the ringing oaths and the drunken
orgies of the crew. How vividly I recalled all that my father had told
me about the character of the sailor of the present day! All that he
had said was more than realized in the actions and appearance of the
crew of the Michigan; but, in justice to the sailor, I ought to add
in the beginning, that they were not a fair specimen of the class of
men who sail our ships. I walked aft filled with loathing and disgust.
The captain was giving some directions to the second mate, who was
performing mate's duty in the absence of that worthy. Even the second
mate was drunk; and, between him and the captain, it was difficult to
tell which was the more sober.
"Well, Farringford, did you find a place for your trunk in the
forecastle?" said the captain, as he saw me.
"No, sir; I did not look for a place."
"What's the matter, my hearty? You look down in the mouth," he added,
thus assuring me that the feeling in my heart had found expression in
my face.
"I don't exactly like the looks of things," I replied, trying to smile.
"What's the trouble?"
"I would like to go on shore again," I added, candidly.
"On shore again! I didn't take you for a chicken."
"I don't think I am a chicken, but I don't like the idea of being with
those fellows forward."
"What's the matter with them?"
"They are all drunk."
"Drunk! What of it? So am I. That is, I'm reasonably drunk. I know
what I'm about, and so do they."
"I don't think many of them do know what they are about. I never heard
such awful profanity before in my life."
"O, well, my lad, you will soon get used to that," laughed Captain
Farraday.
"Not if I can help it, sir."
"But you are not going to back out now, Farringford?"
"I don't like to back out, but I can't stand it to live in the same
forecastle with such miserable wretches as those men."
"Be reasonable, Farringford. Don't you see they are drunk?"
"Yes, sir; and I consider that a serious objection to them; for men in
their sober senses would not use such horrible curses as those men use."
"That's it, exactly, Farringford. It's only because they are drunk.
When they are sober they will be as pious as parsons."
"If you have no objection, I think I will go on shore again."
"Of course you can go on shore if you like, but you will make a
blunder if you do, Farringford. I advise you as a friend. Do you expect
the crew will be drunk all the time?"
"I don't know anything about it; but I don't like the looks of them."
"These men have just come on board. Sailors always go on a spree before
they go on a voyage. They don't have any liquor at sea. Every man's kit
is searched to see that he brings none with him. Before eight bells,
to-night, they will all be as sober as judges, and you won't see one of
them drunk again till we get to the coast of--to Palermo; and not then,
unless we give them a day on shore."
"That alters the case," I replied, perceiving the force of his argument.
"That's one of the best crews that ever was shipped out of New York.
You can't tell what they are when they are drunk. Why, one third of
them are church members."
If the captain had not been tipsy himself, I should have believed he
intended to deceive me; but he had been very kind to me, and I charged
his exaggerated remarks to the whiskey he had drank. If the crew were
only sober, and ceased swearing, I was confident I could get along
three weeks with them. I had read in my Sunday school library books of
ships which were sailed without rum or profanity, and perhaps I had
taken my ideal from too high a pitch. If these men were not fed upon
liquor I did not believe they could be as they were now.
"I can't go into the forecastle with them while they are in their
present state," I added.
"O, well, we will make that all right. I will give you a place in the
cabin till to-morrow. By that time you will find the crew are like so
many lambs. Bring your trunk this way."
I obeyed, though I was not quite satisfied. I carried my trunk below,
and put it into the steerage, which was appropriated to the use of the
cabin steward. The captain told me I might sleep that night anywhere I
could find a place. I was so infatuated with the desire to go to sea
as a sailor, that I flattered myself the crew would appear better when
sober, and I tried to persuade myself that the adventure would come out
right in the end.
"Here, Farringford, sign the papers," said the captain, pointing to a
document on the cabin table.
"But I don't ship as a regular seaman," I replied.
"It's only a form," he added. "You shall leave when you please, but the
law requires that every seaman shall sign the papers."
I did so as a matter of form, and went on deck. The new mate was
coming alongside. He was in a boat with two other men; and, as he was
practically to be my master during the voyage, I regarded him with deep
interest. I did not see his face at first, but as he rose from his seat
I recognized him.
The new mate was Mr. Ben Waterford, from the west!