discomfiture of his "oddity," but the bright retort turned the tables
against him, and established the opinion with them that Ralph instead
of being half-witted was at any rate on that occasion very
ready-witted. They said they would not have lost the sight of seeing
the joke for anything. Macgregor wisely entered into the fun, and
admitted that Ralph had scored in a way that he had not anticipated.
Meanwhile the new captain was discussed at home with striking
regularity. Opinions varied as to how long he would last and what would
be the cause of his downfall. Quotations from the Scriptures were used
in profusion, the favourite of which was: "Pride goeth before
destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Their faces wore an
aspect of great concern, and they ominously shook their heads in token
of sinister developments that were to bring much tribulation to their
friend who had broken the law of brotherhood. A letter was received by
Mr Hobkirk from the captain giving a graphic description of his passage
and the general prospects for dispatch at the port of discharge.
Dealing incidentally with his future plans, he remarked in passing: "I
cannot close without briefly saying how much I owe you for the honour
you have done me by entrusting so valuable a property and such
important interests to my keeping. May I assure you that it is my
intention to see that you are well rewarded for the confidence you have
placed in your humble servant." The owner went into ecstasy over this
letter and showed it to many of his friends as evidence against their
adverse opinion and as an indication of unusual capacity. Some of them
drily remarked: "The letter may be all right, but we believe in
results, and advise you to wait until you see your accounts." These
nasty insinuations, however, did not in any way shake the confidence of
the owner. Each communication dazzled his imagination and gave him
further opportunity for extolling the rare gifts of his valuable
skipper who was dashing his vessel along in a way that amazed the
inhabitants of the sleepy town to which she belonged. The first voyage
was made in quick time, and the profits were satisfactory. His
treatment of the crew was not all kindness, but they were rather proud
to be able to say that they had sailed with a dare-devil who had lost a
suit of sails crossing the Bay by sheer carrying on; besides he was
generous in the distribution of food and grog, and this was a trait
that palliated all other defects. On his arrival home the interview
between him and his employer was of the most cordial character, and he
was sent on another voyage with a free hand to act in chartering and
other things, as his judgement led him to think was in the best
interests of the vessel. On this occasion he went to Landscrona with
coals, and from there to a Russian place called Windau in ballast. On
arrival off this port he left the mate in charge with instructions to
dodge about while he went ashore to see if he could get a good charter.
In less than two hours he was aboard again with the pilot, and the ship
proceeded into the harbour to load at a high rate of freight for
London. The news of the unexpected arrival and unique fixture created
quite a flutter in shipping circles. Hobkirk's former critics became
suddenly enamoured of this remarkable captain, and his fame spread far
and wide. He was held up as an example of greatness to his less
successful contemporaries, and they in turn secretly desired a tragic
end for him. Hobkirk being a pillar of the church, deemed it necessary
when he took his walks abroad to hang his head in saintly humility. If
he came across any of his friends he warned them to guard against
covetousness, and should prosperity such as his come to them they were
adjured to subdue any inclination to pride.
"We have need to subdue vanity, haughtiness, self-glorification, and
other worldly ways. I often read and ponder over these awful words,"
said this sanctified commercial prince: "The nations shall rush like
the rushing of many waters, but God shall rebuke them, and they shall
flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before
the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind."
At the time his owner was exhorting his fellow-townsmen to a closer
communion with God, Captain Macgregor had given way to habits that were
not commensurate with the doctrine of that righteousness which exalteth
a people, and as often happens (especially aboard ship) when a bad
example is shown by the master, the crew and officers drift into
irregularities, and all discipline is destroyed. This was exactly what
occurred aboard the _Hebe_. The master was known to be on the spree, so
the mate, Munroe, thought he would have a day off, and took as a
drinking chum, Ralph, the half-marrow; and, in order that they might
not be disturbed, they travelled to a snapshop in the country, some
miles away from the town. Instead of one day, two were spent in
drinking, swearing, dancing, and, as sailors generally call it when on
the spree, casting the lead--presumably to know their whereabouts. A
sailor belonging to the _Hebe_ got to know where they were, and
persuaded a man belonging to another vessel to go with him and bring
them back. They had a tough job, but at midnight of the second day they
succeeded in getting them to retrace their way to the ship, the plan
being to get aboard when nobody was about. Munroe was a typical sailor,
full of devilment, especially when he had had a few glasses of grog.
The two "plants" trudged their way conversing with great animation of
what they had seen and done and what they intended to do. Ralph was
ready to acquiesce in all his officer said as to future exploits. Their
shipmate reminded them (especially Ralph) that it would not be well for
them if the old man got to know they had been on the loose, whereupon
Ralph retorted, "I don't care a damn for the old beggar." This outburst
was supplemented by more sanguinary promises on the part of Mr Munroe.
At this point they were passing a farm just on the outskirts of the
town, and observed some poultry. The chief officer said he would not go
aboard emptyhanded, and had never done so in his life, and wouldn't do
so now.
"What do you say, Ralph?"
"I say the same as you say, James," said the complacent half-marrow;
"let us have a fowl for breakfast."
One cock and two hens were captured by the mate, who was full of
congratulations to himself. At last one of the escorts reminded him
that he would have to conceal the birds or he might be stopped and run
in by the sentry.
"By gox, that's true," said Munroe; "where shall I put them?"
"In your breeches," said Ralph, sharply.
"That's first class," said he, and with Ralph's assistance they were
stowed in the part of his wearing apparel where there was an abundance
of room generously supplied by the tailor. They had not gone many yards
when the mate showed evidences of discomfort. He was obviously
suffering pain. The two escorts were by this time in kinks with
laughter. Ralph asked his mate what was the matter with him.
"Matter?" said the mate, "why, the blooming things are biting me to
pieces."
"Let the beasts bite," said Ralph coolly; "you cannot have them there
without them doing something, you darned fool! How do you expect to get
past the sentry if you go on like that? Buck up and bear it."
At this point the cock gave an unnatural guttural cry. Ralph exhorted
his companion to keep the thing quiet. He replied he couldn't, and that
he would stand it no longer.
"Well," said Ralph, "if you won't stand it you won't have fowl for
breakfast."
"Oh, darn the breakfast! I must let them go. Help me to unbutton, for
if I move they'll go mad again."
The birds were taken from their concealment. Ralph secured two, twisted
their necks, stuffed one into his own nether garment, and informed the
mate that he should have adopted this plan of quietening them at first.
"Here," said he, passing him the other dead hen, "two makes it far over
bulky; you stow it away in yours."
"No fear," said Mr Munroe, "I'll never touch or eat a bit of fowl again
as long as I live. My sufferings are too great."
"Why that's rotten nonsense," said the resourceful half-marrow; "the
thing's dead."
"I don't care," responded the penitent thief, "I'll never handle them
again, dead or alive. Oh, Christo, I _am_ smarting!"
"Hold your blether about smarting and suffering, you fool, or you'll
get me nabbed," replied Ralph, who had now concealed both roosters.
The two escorts were by this time well nigh paralytic with laughter. As
they drew near to where the slumbering sentry stood, the chief officer
caused great anxiety by the style of walk he was forced to assume.
Ralph implored him not to go along as though he expected swine to pass
between his legs, and not to put on such an agonized look. He coaxed
him by the promise that he himself would attend to his wounds as soon
as they got safely aboard. The good-hearted soul took infinite trouble
in his rough way to fulfil the pledge he had given. They were not
intercepted by the military gentleman who guarded the destiny of the
port, and as soon as their feet were planted on deck Ralph exclaimed,
"Now we're safe." Jack has an inherent belief in the sacredness of
British territory, either floating or otherwise. He is a stout upholder
of British supremacy, and conformity to the laws of other nations does
not appeal to him. His creed is undisguised, and has been handed down
as an heirloom from the great naval hero who smashed the combined
fleets of Spain and France at Trafalgar. Here it is: "Fear God, and
hate a Frenchman as the devil hates holy water." The average sailor
continues to believe this to be an edict which alone can assure
patriotism and divine compassion. All these things were well mixed in
Ralph's brain. He never doubted the truth of them, and the one idea
which brought forth the utterance, "Now we're safe," was the conviction
of British supremacy and protection.
It took Mr Munroe a few days to get into working order. The news of the
adventure and the sequel to it soon spread amongst the English vessels
in port. There was much visiting and jocular sympathy expressed for the
prime mover, and the sailor's sense of humour was greatly touched by
all he heard. The mate himself was a humourist, and after he had got
over the painful period he often told the story against himself, and
never failed to do so with a vividness that made it highly attractive.
The loading of the vessel was in no way delayed by this little freak,
as there was no cargo down. Captain Macgregor, however, had not been
seen for several days, and the vessel was nearly ready for sea. The
proper agencies were instructed to have him brought aboard, drunk or
sober, so he landed aboard drunk, and gave everybody an unhappy time
until he was got into his bunk and sent to sleep. The next day he rose
early, got all his papers and accounts made right, paid them, signed
bills of lading, cleared, and put to sea with a fair wind. There were
no traces of intemperance in either his behaviour or in the manner of
giving orders. He talked with marked intelligence to his officer, and
partook of the evening meal with him; and as he had reason to leave the
table before Munroe had finished, he politely asked to be excused for
doing so. This mark of consideration overshadowed his other faults and
stamped him as a gentleman in the opinion of the mate. A somewhat
disturbing incident followed, for the guttural voice of someone nowhere
to be seen rebuked James Munroe for absenting himself from the vessel
for two days and indulging in intoxicating drink to excess and for
purloining a poor farmer's fowls, which even the painful results to
himself could not excuse. Then followed a modest tribute to Captain
Macgregor's superior morality. "It is not well that Macgregor should
ever taste alcohol," said the voice; "the slightest drop takes effect
and causes him to appear intoxicated when he is not." Then there came
from the stairs the almost incoherent announcement that a stormy
passage was to be experienced. Then the voice fluttered away, and left
only the sound of creaking timbers and the weird moan of the wind.
Munroe was riveted with dumb terror, and when speech came to him he
remarked: "That's darned funny," and proceeded on deck to attend to his
duties. In a short time he was joined by the captain, who was promptly
informed of what had been heard.
"Ah," said the skipper, in dead earnest, "that must have been a warning
to you and to me to regulate our lives aright."
"I don't know about the warning, but these visitations you talk about
are not very canny," responded the mate.
"How dare you complain of being reminded of absenting yourself from
your duties and stealing poultry and concealing them in a manner that
is disgraceful?" sternly replied the captain.
"All right," said Munroe in a voice obviously agitated, "say no more
about it."
Macgregor navigated for three days after leaving, with great vigour and
commendable care, though it was known that he was tippling. He seemed
to have an aversion to Ralph when he had imbibed too freely. This could
not be accounted for, as until recently Ralph was very popular with the
captain. After passing Elsinore he commenced to drink harder, but
always kept his watch until the Scaw was rounded. Then irregularities
became visible. Strong westerly winds were encountered after passing
the Jutland coast. The men knew by experience whenever a light was kept
burning in the stateroom at night, when the wind blew hard and a press
of canvas was being carried, that the intention was, not to take a
stitch in until something carried away. The sailors dreaded these
occasions, as the little craft was smothered at times and never a bit
of rest could be had until the wind eased down. Ten days after leaving
Windau the _Hebe_ entered the Commercial Docks, London. She had been
flogged heavily all the way home. A record passage was considered to
have been made under the circumstances, and several vessels that had
left before and at the same time were sheltering in Elsinore roads,
while others had put into Norwegian ports. Mr Hobkirk was much
gratified by his captain's performances, and would not listen to the
petty gossip that had been sent by some busybodies about him drinking
and being absent from the vessel while at the loading port. He deemed
it necessary, however, to mention the matter to the captain, who on his
arrival at the Tyne was asked to spend an evening with the owner and
discuss things generally. The use of offices was dispensed with in
these days. All accounts and correspondence were kept and carried on
from the owner's private house. When the interview took place, Captain
Macgregor was at his best. Hobkirk was like a willow in his hands. He
nervously introduced the subject of intemperance. It was eloquently and
contemptuously denied; and just as the owner was in the act of
repeating what had been told him, a stern voice came down the chimney
rebuking him for lack of confidence in a man who had given such proof
of integrity. Hobkirk felt uneasy, but the matter of accounts which
were not quite satisfactory had to be dealt with. As soon as they were
mentioned Macgregor fumed into white heat and rose to go, and got
nearly to the door when a sharp angry voice came down the chimney
demanding that the captain should be brought back again and peace made
with him. Hobkirk was by this time in such a state of terror he begged
the gallant commander to take his seat, and apologised for having
unintentionally offended him. Again the voice came: "The wicked in his
pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that
they have imagined." This was the climax. Hobkirk was beside himself
with fear, and tremblingly requested that all should be forgotten.
"I assure you, Macgregor, I have the fullest confidence in you. By the
way, did you hear anything just now?"
"Yes," said the captain, "and although I'm not a nervous man it has
made a very deep impression upon me. Good night, sir."
The captain never had the honour of being invited to his owner's home
again. There were those who said that Hobkirk believed him to have
communion with his Satanic majesty, or to possess supernatural power.
Hobkirk was undoubtedly convinced that the mill was haunted by a spirit
favourably disposed towards the man who had claimed to be his ideal
shipmaster. He became afraid to doubt his honesty or his sobriety lest
his nights might be disturbed and his days filled with trouble.
"Ah," said he to a friend in whom he had confided, "Solomon the son of
David was right when he said these words: 'Happy is the man that
findeth wisdom and the man that getteth understanding, for the
merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the
gain thereof than fine gold.'"
"Very shrewd, very fine," said his friend, "but you might have added
one or two other things that the great Hebrew King's son said. What do
you think of these few words of wisdom and rebuke: 'But ye have set at
naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh
at your calamity: I will mock when your fear cometh?' It is no use,
Hobkirk; I told you all along that Macgregor would have to be watched,
but you were carried away with his money-making, his glamour and
letter-writing, and now he's your master. I'll tell you another thing
old Solomon said: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love, and faithful
are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.'
My advice is: have another master ready for the _Hebe_ as soon as
she gets back."
Hobkirk confessed to his friend that the quotations from his favourite
author and his own frank statements had made a deep impression on him,
though he was bound to admit that his confidence was only partially
shaken in the man to whom he had pinned his faith.
"Very well, we will see," responded the friend as he passed out of the
door.
Mr Hobkirk's meditations kept him awake right through the night, and at
an early hour in the morning he boarded the _Hebe_, and found the
captain and his men energetically preparing to take her to sea. The
cargo was all in. A gentle westerly breeze was blowing. The topsails
were set; the moorings were let go; and the little vessel proceeded out
of the harbour bound to Copenhagen.
The owner went over the bar with her, and on getting outside had a
private conversation with the master, the nature of which was never
disclosed, but so far as Macgregor was concerned it was animated. Mr
Hobkirk, before leaving with the pilot, gave the crew his benediction,
and slipped into the cobble which waited to convey them ashore. The
pilot, observing that the flag was being dipped, broke the silence by
remarking:
"She's off once more, sir, and they're dipping the blood and guts of
old England to say goodbye to us."
The owner was indignant, and smartly retorted:
"I wish you to understand, pilot, that I will not have the British flag
insulted in my presence. When you speak of that flag, sir, you must
speak of it with reverence, and remember that it has never been lowered
to an enemy."
The pilot, who had been a sailor and captain, was amazed at the owner's
ignorance in not knowing that seamen were accustomed to speak of the
flag in this way. Had he been a foreigner who dared to address him in a
similar tone of ill-nature, he would have thrown him overboard. As it
was, he merely remarked in an ironic accent that Mr Hobkirk "had a lot
to learn yet." By the time the cobble got ashore, the fine clipper brig
was nearly hull down.
Macgregor had prevailed upon the same crew to go with him again, and
the owner's back was scarcely turned before he commenced to drink and
ill-use the poor half-witted Ralph who was in his watch. There does not
appear to have been any reason for this except that of alcoholic
viciousness. The dark horror of secret drinking quickly developed into
hideous proportions; it gripped him like a vice; his bleary eyes and
wild fits of delirium foreshadowed inevitable collapse. He raved about
things that were supposed to be whispered in his ears by unholy voices;
he saw wild beasts of the most ferocious character, which were not
there, and imagined them grinding their teeth in anxiety to devour him;
he alternately yelled and whispered that rats, weasels and wild cats
were crawling over his body and gnawing at his vitals. In the paroxysm
of frenzy he lay down on the cabin floor and tried to bury his head
from the sight of the demons that he imagined pursued him. He cried out
in pitiful accents to be shielded from them, and in the effort lost
complete capacity for coherent speech. The crew were thrown into a
condition of chilly fear. A consultation was held, and it was decided
to have him carefully watched and occasional doses of brandy
administered. For three days a fine westerly breeze had raced over the
dappled sea. It had varied in strength, and nearly three hundred miles
had been covered when the wind died away to a calm which continued
nearly twenty-four hours. Then an air sprang up from the east and
gradually gained in strength to a whole sail breeze. The captain had
shown alarming signs of sudden recovery during the early hours of the
fourth day. The _delirium tremens_ had apparently left him, and he
became subdued and attractively rational. Munroe, who did not possess
much intelligence, knowledge or ambition, expressed his satisfaction
that the drunken beggar was about to resume control, as he was sick of
being both skipper and mate. As a matter of fact, responsibility did
not sit lightly on this frivolous officer, and it may be that he knew
the measure of his capacity. Ralph heard all the mate had to say, and
quietly remarked:
"They haven't left him yet. He's only at the cunning, dangerous stage."
"What do you mean, Ralph?" said Munroe (for in spite of his reputed
semi-idiotcy Ralph was supposed to possess intuitive foresight).
"I mean what I say. Now's the time to watch him, or he may have any one
of us by the throat before we know where we are. I'll be the first
he'll go for," said Ralph, in broad vernacular; "he used to like me,
but now that he's taken on to drink I feel that he wants to kill me."
At midnight on the fourth day from sailing Ralph had just relieved the
wheel, and Macgregor had come on deck, and commenced to walk the
quarterdeck in his usual dignified style. The vessel was being sailed
by the wind, and his eyes became fixed aloft, watching, as was his
custom, whether she was properly steered. At last he broke silence by
shouting out:
"Hard up! Don't you see the rocks right ahead?" Then he sprang at Ralph
like a tiger, and had nearly torn his clothes off him before other
members of the crew came to his aid. The captain's strength was
superhuman. It took four men to get him into his berth and lash him
securely down, and in a few minutes he died in a screaming fit of
madness.
It was promptly arranged that the body should, if possible, be landed
in England, and as there was blowing a whole sail breeze from the east,
her tail was put to it and then a heated discussion arose as to the
proper course to steer for Tynemouth Castle. The mate said W. by N.
Ralph insisted W. by S. from their position would land her right under
the castle foot. As both stubbornly maintained they were right, it was
agreed to come to a compromise by steering W. by N. one watch and W. by
S. the next, and so on until the land was made. After this knotty
question was settled an incident almost incredible in its awful
gruesomeness took place. Ralph became smitten by a revengeful mania. He
went below, took his deceased commander's clothes off, put his body on
the table and commenced to lash at it with a piece of rope, exclaiming
at every stroke, "You thrashed me, you tiger, when you were living, and
I'll thrash you now that you're dead." The mate happened to go into the
cabin while this performance was going on, and was stricken with chill
horror.
"My God, Ralph, what are you doing?" the mate shouted.
"Don't you see what I'm doing, you d----n fool?" said Ralph, "I'll
teach the villain to lash me for doing nothing!"
"But," said Munroe, "his body will be marked, and we will be had up for
murder!"
"There is no fear of that. A corpse never gets marked by beating it."