that the whole thing was done as quietly as possible. All you men
went to work in silence without as much as a hurrah. And one of the
boats brought me ashore and the other brought the admiral. And it
was only after you had put the man on board the _Harvester_ that you
came back for the admiral at five in the morning, Benson."
"And what about the boat as brought you, sir?"
"I came back at twelve and went on board with them, after the fight,
and while you were rowing Mr. Smith about the bay, cheering him up."
"Was there anything else, sir?"
"Nothing," said Selwyn, "only that I forget whether it came out. If
it did, the men said it was a game all of their own. And I
think--no, I'm sure--that if any one got into trouble it paid him
well, after all."
"Of course it would, sir," said Benson warmly. "I wish it could
really come off. You never know your luck, sir."
"I think Mr. Smith doesn't," said Selwyn.
And when Benson went on board again and had a long confabulation with
two boats' crews, there was a unanimous opinion among them that Mr.
Smith had piled his ship up with a vengeance when he ran against a
British admiral.
"There ain't to be no weepons," said Benson--"nothin' worse nor more
cuttin' than a stay-sail 'ank as a knuckle-duster, and even that I
don't recommend. An odd stretcher or two and the bottles there will
do the job. And the word is silence, now and then."
"Mum's the word," said the men. And like the children that they
were, they wrought the whole ship's company into a frenzy of
excitement, by dropping hints about as heavy as a half-hundredweight
on every one who was not in the game. Had there been much longer to
wait than twenty-four hours, they must have told, or burst. And if
they had not burst, the others would have finally reached the truth
by the process of exhaustion.
It was nine o'clock on the following evening that the admiral went on
shore to dine with the British consul. He told Benson that he might
be later than eleven. And as Benson touched his cap he took the
liberty of believing he might be as late as five in the morning. And
just about eleven Selwyn came ashore in another boat with papers
which had to go to the admiral. That is what he said to the first
lieutenant. Captain Hamilton was sleeping the night at the house of
a cousin of his in San Francisco.
"I shall be back in an hour, Thomas," said Selwyn. And the two
coxs'ns were left in command of the cutting-out expedition. The
whole business was nearly wrecked at the outset by the settlement of
the question as to who was to be left in charge of the boats.
Finally Thomas and Benson ordered two men to stay, and the defrauded
men sat back and growled most horribly as the rest moved off towards
Shanghai Smith's in loose order.
"Look 'ere," said Billings to Graves as they were left alone, "it's
hobvious one must stay with the boats; but one's enough, and on an
hexpedition like this, horders ain't worth a damn. I'll howe you a
quid, a whole quid, and my grog for a month if you'll be the man to
stay."
"No, I'll toss you, the same terms both sides."
And the spin of coin sent Billings running after the rest. He was
received by Benson with curses, but he stuck to the party all the
same.
"Very well, you report me! You know you can't," he said defiantly.
"And I've give Graves a thick 'un and my grog for a month to be let
come."
This awful sacrifice appealed even to Benson.
"All right," he said. "But if I can't report you for this, I can the
next time."
"Next time be damned," cried Billings; "'oo cares about next time,
now?"
And they hove in sight of Shanghai Smith's.
It was the first time a bluejacket had been near the place since a
day or two before the admiral's disappearance. And at first when
Shanghai saw them come in he regretted that Billy, his best fighting
man, was by now well on his way to Portland. But for at least ten
minutes the _Triumphants_ behaved very well. Benson had a good head
and had arranged matters very neatly.
"You look 'ere," he had said; "the thing to look out for is the
barman. He keeps a gun, as they calls it 'ere, on a shelf under the
bar. Smith, 'e'll 'ave one in his pocket. So when I says, 'This rum
would poison a dog,' don't wait for no back answer, but lay the
bar-keeper out quick, with a stone matchbox or anything 'andy. And
the nearest to Smith does the same to 'im. He'll likely not be
be'ind, but if 'e is, bottle 'im too, and not a word of jaw about it
first or last."
They stood up to the bar, and Benson ordered drinks for himself and
three particular pals of his.
"Ain't this Mr. Smith's?" he asked.
"I'm Smith," said Shanghai.
"'Ere's to you. I've often heard of you," said Benson. And three or
four merchant seamen sitting about the room sniggered and passed a
few sneering remarks among themselves about "Liberty Jack."
Smith, who had taken enough that night to make him rash, referred to
the admiral.
"So your admiral has come back, has he?"
"He has," said the _Triumphants_. "And Dicky Dunn is lookin' for the
man that played that dirty game on him."
And Smith shrugged his shoulders as he half turned away.
"'Tain't half so dirty as this rum," said Benson; "it would poison a
dog."
And as the words left his mouth the ball opened with a sudden and
tremendous crash. Two heavy matchboxes went for Tom behind the bar:
one laid him out as quietly as if he had been hocussed; the other
smashed a bottle which held a liquor known on the Barbary Coast as
brandy, and starred the mirror behind the shelves. Thomas at the
same moment stooped and caught Shanghai Smith by the ankles and
pitched him on his head. He never had time to reach for his "gun."
The merchant seamen jumped to their feet and made for the door.
"Stop them!" said Benson, and half a dozen bluejackets hustled them
back again. "No you don't, Johnnies; you can stay and 'ave free
drinks, and look after the man behind the bar. Drag out that Smith
and get 'im in the open air." And Thomas dragged Smith into the
darkness by his collar.
"There's to be no drinkin' for us," said Benson. "Smash what you
like, and taste nothin'." And in less than a minute Shanghai's place
was a lamentable and ghastly spectacle.
"Sarves him right," said one of the merchant seamen, as he salved a
bottle of poison. "Oh, ain't he a sailor-robbing swine?"
"Fetch him in and let him look at it," said Benson, with a wink.
Thomas had been primed.
"He's come to and run like billy-oh!" he cried.
But Smith was incapable of running. He was being carried by two
bluejackets.
"After 'im, after 'im," said Benson; and in another moment the whole
house was dear.
When Tom came to, he found the place a wreck, and four boarders too
far gone in free liquor to offer any useful explanation of what had
occurred since the rum had been pronounced fit to poison a dog.
"All I know is," said the soberest, "that he fit and we fit and fit
and fit, and then 'e run."
And when Tom sought for the police, it was very odd that there was
not one to be found in the quarter of San Francisco which most needs
clubbing to keep it in order. There was not even one to bear witness
that a crowd of bluejackets and an American citizen had come along
the water front at midnight. But five minutes after midnight a
British lieutenant could have taken his oath that both crews were in
their boats and at least moderately sober.
"I've seen the admiral, Benson," said Selwyn, as he stepped into his
boat and sat down, "and he may be later than he said."
"Very well, sir," replied Benson.
And as soon as Selwyn had disappeared into the darkness, the boat
with Mr. Shanghai Smith in followed suit. And the bay of San
Francisco is not so well policed that they had any one inquiring what
they were doing as they pulled across to Saucelito, and laid up
quietly till three o'clock.
"He ain't dead, we hopes," said the crew of the boat.
"Not 'e," said Benson; "'is 'eart beats all to rights, and 'is head
is perfectly sound, bar a lump the size of a 'en's egg. That
up-endin' dodge of Thomas's is very fatal in a row--oh, it's very
fatal."
It was nearly two o'clock before Shanghai made any motion. But when
he did begin to get conscious, he found his mind and his tongue with
surprising rapidity.
"That 'ead of yourn must be made of five-eighths boiler-plate, Mr.
Smith," said Benson, as Smith sat up suddenly.
"What am I doin' here?" asked Smith.
"'Ow do we know?" asked the delighted crew. "You _would_ come. It
warn't no good excusin' of ourselves."
Smith put his hand to his head.
"Who hit me?" he demanded savagely.
"No one," said the crew unanimously; "you tried to stand on your
'ead."
"Put me ashore," said Smith. "What are you goin' to do?"
"We're waitin' to see the _'Arvester_ yonder 'eave 'er anchor up,"
replied Benson. "We're in the sailor-supplyin' line, we are, same as
you was."
"He don't like to hear that," said Billings; "we're cutting him out
of a job. And this time we ain't supplyin' admirals."
"No, we ain't. Yah, you man-buyin', sailor-robbin' swine! And 'twas
you dared touch our admiral. Oh, you dog, you!"
They all took a turn at him, and Smith saw he was in the tightest
corner he had ever occupied. This was satisfactorily expressed for
him.
"Say, Shanghai, did you ever hear of Barney's bull?"
And when Smith refused to answer, they answered for him.
"He was jammed in a clinch, and so are you. You're goin' to 'ave the
finest time of all your life. Did you ever 'ear of Sant of the
_'Arvester_?"
And Smith, for all his brutal courage, shook in his boots.
"I'll give you chaps a hundred dollars to put me ashore," he cried.
"I never touched Sir Richard Dunn."
"Dry up," said Benson, "and don't lie. We wouldn't part with you, my
jewel, not for a thousand. What made you desert from the
_'Arvester_, a comfortable ship like that, with sich a duck of a
skipper?"
"I'll give you a thousand," said Smith desperately.
"At four o'clock you're goin' on the _'Arvester_--and 'tis nigh on
three now. Sant wouldn't miss a man like you, so smart and 'andy,
for all the gold in Californy. Own up as you shanghaied the admiral?"
Smith grasped at any chance of avoiding the _Harvester_. For Sant
had a dreadful name, and both his mates were terrors.
"If I own I put him away, will you take me ashore and hand me over to
the police?"
He was almost in a state of collapse.
Benson looked at the man, and in the faint light of far-off day still
below the horizon the boat's crew saw him wink.
"We'll vote on it, if you owns up. What d'ye say, chaps?"
"Aye, we'll vote," said the men. "Say, did you do it?"
But Smith saw how the voting would go, and refused to speak. They
heard six bells come across the water from many ships. And then they
heard seven. There was a grey glint in the east. The sand-dunes on
the verge of the Ocean Park whitened as they pulled for the
_Harvester_. They heard the clank of her windlass brakes and the
bull voice of her mate, as he encouraged his men to do their best by
threatening them with three months of hell afloat.
Smith offered Benson two thousand dollars.
"I wouldn't part with you except to Sant for all you ever robbed men
of," said Benson--"and what that is, on'y you knows. Pull, boys; her
cable's up and down. No, hold on a moment; he must be wet, of
course."
In spite of his struggles they put him over the side and soused him
thoroughly. When they pulled him on board again, he sat cursing.
"Now, boys, bend your backs."
And when he came up alongside the _Harvester_ she was just moving
under the draught of her loosed topsails.
"_Harvester_, ahoy!" cried Benson.
"Hallo!" said Sant. "What is it?"
"You don't happen to have lost one of your crew, tryin' to desert by
swimmin', sir?"
"Have you picked him up? What's his name, does he say?"
"It's Smith, sir."
"That's the man," said Sant. "I want him badly."
But Smith cried out:
"This is kidnappin', Mr. Sant. I refuse to go."
"Oh, Smith," said Sant, "I'll take all the chances of it's bein'
anythin' you like. Throw them a rope."
And the _Triumphants_ towed alongside.
"Up you go," said Benson.
"I won't," said Smith.
"Won't you?" asked Benson. "We'll see about that. Hook on there,
Billings."
And the next moment Smith was jammed in a running bowline round his
waist.
"Sway him up," said Benson; and the crew of the _Harvester_ hoisted
the notorious robber with about the only feelings of pleasure they
were likely to know till they reached New York. And the
_Triumphants_ pushed off as they heard the mate address Mr. Smith in
language which did his reputation and the reputation of the ship most
ample justice.
"There's talk and there's a fore-topsail-yard-ahoy voice for you,"
said Benson. "Oh, Mr. Smith will be looked after, he will. Now,
chaps, pull for it, or the admiral will be waitin', and if that
'appens, 'twill be 'Stand from under.'"
THE POLICY OF THE _POTLUCK_.
Concerning the permanent and immutable characteristics of ships, the
unhappy man who has never had his limited range of vision broadened
by a trip in a sailing ship must of necessity know little. He
probably falls into the fallacy, common even among those who follow
the sea, that a partial or entire clearance of her "crowd" will quite
alter her nature; whereas sailors being sailors--that is, people of
certain fairly definite attributes--any given environment makes them
much the same as those who preceded them.
But entire changes in the _personnel_ of a vessel rarely take place.
The officers change, but the crew remains: the crew goes, but
officers stay. Or more frequently some few men are favourites of one
or two of the officers, and they mingle with the new crew like yeast,
till the ancient fermentation is visible once more.
Ships (to speak thus of their companies) talk of the same subjects
over a million miles of changing seas: they have a permanent stock of
subjects. These include all which are perennially of interest to
seafaring men, such as homes _versus_ boarding-houses, but they
include also something more individual, something more intimately
connected with the essence of that particular vessel. And the one
unending topic of interest on board the _Potluck_ was foreign
politics.
How this came about no one knew, though many theories were set afloat
and sunk again every Sunday afternoon. Some said that the first
captain of the _Potluck_ was called Palmerstone, and that he
introduced the subject of England _versus_ the world as soon as he
came on board. Others swore that they had been told by a clerk in
the employ of the firm that there had been a discussion over her very
keel concerning the introduction into her frame of foreign oaks.
"This was the way of it," said Jack Hart, who was the chief upholder
of this particular theory, and the son of a little shipbuilder--"the
lot that built her at Liverpool was the mixedest crowd of forsaken
cranks as ever handled timber. So the clerk said. And one had a
hankerin' for teak and another for hoak (with odd leanin's now and
agin for Hafrican and Portugee and French hoak), and another he said
'Cuban Sabicu,' and another's word was 'Hackmatack' and 'chestnut'
hevery time. So they shoved in bits here and bits there till she was
a reg'lar junk-shop o' samples. And that's the reason she's a
foreign talking argument ship. And a mighty good reason too."
The crowd listened in silence.
"If you knew as much about arguin' as you know (_seemin'ly_) about
timbers as no man ever heerd of, your argument might stand," said
Mackenzie, a withered old foc'sle man. "But it ain't to reason as
the natur' of the woods in a ship should make us talk this way or
that. If so be a ship was built o' teak, d'ye think we'd talk the
'jildy jow,' you black 'son of a gun' lingo?"
Hart shook his head.
"No ship ain't never built all of teak as I ever heerd of, and so
your eye's out, Mac. But a man with 'arf an eye could see the
knowledge of her bein' so built might lead right hup to talk about
the stren'ths of the countries as well of the vally of their timbers."
"So they might," said the almost convinced crowd. "Now Jack Hart 'as
the gift, so to speak, of seein' through things."
"And once started, who'd stop it?" asked Jack triumphantly. "I
knowed a ship as 'ad fresh crowd after fresh crowd in her, but she
for ever 'ad a black cat aboard. And they talked 'cat' to make you
sick. And I knowed another as 'ad from launch to her hultimate
pilin' up in the Bermudas the fashion of calling the skipper the
'Guffin.' And hevery skipper was the 'Guffin,' new and old, go or
stay. But when we broke hoff to hargue, why, we was talkin' about
them French jossers and whether Sallis-bury was a-goin' to let 'em
chip into our game and straddle the Nile."
"That's so," said the crowd, and the House was rough.
Meanwhile, the skipper, or "old man" (who henceforward, by the way,
was called the "Guffin"), and his two mates were discussing the
latest aspect of world politics, as they drank whiskey and water.
"What's wrong with Salisbury," said the Guffin, who was as stout as a
barrel and as sturdy, "is, that he ain't got a backbone. He just
lets 'em blow him about like so much paper. What he wants is
stiffenin': he's like a sprung spar. That's what he's like."
The mate, a tough-looking dog with hair like anæmic tussac grass in
patches on his face, shook his head.
"I've a greater opinion of him, captain, than you have. All his
double shuffle is cunning. It's getting back so's to lead them
French on. Mark me, he'll play them yet a fair knock-out."
The Guffin sneered.
"He may have cunnin', Lampert, but he ain't no real tact. Now,
diplomatic tact, I take it, is not givin' way into the gutter, but
just showin' as you're a nice pleasant-spoken chap as don't mean to
be put on. It's my good opinion as these foreigners don't yearn to
fight us. And men like you and me, Lampert, gets to learn the way of
handlin' foreigners. Who has so much experience with 'em as them in
command of English ships?"
"That's so," said the second mate, who had been listening. "Now last
v'y'ge in the _Battleaxe_, there was a Dago in my watch as come from
the betwixt and between land where Spain jines France. And he was
the Dagoest Dago I ever sailed with. But I knew the breed, and the
first time he opens his garlicky mouth I hauled off and hit him. And
then I took his knife away and snapped the point off. And I says to
him, 'Now, you black beggar, every time at muster you'll show me that
knife, and there'll be peace in the land.' And he done so, and there
was peace."
The captain (or "Guffin") smote his thigh.
"You're right, Simcox, you're right, and if Salisbury was to take a
leaf out of your log-book in respects of handlin' Dagoes, 'twould be
better for all concerned. But no, not him. He goes on seein' them
French make a fleet and he lets 'em! He actually sees 'em with their
fleet sharpenin' on the grindstone and never says from the poop,
'Chuck that overboard, you swine, or I'll come and 'andle you so's
you'll be glad to die.'"
The second mate was much gratified, as was obvious by his standing
first on one foot and then on another. But Lampert was not so
pleased.
"Why, you talk--you, captain and you, Simcox--as if they had a fleet.
Why, it's my opinion--and experts say 'ditto' to me there--that a
string o' band-boxes with crackers in 'em, and all on a mud-flat,
would do as much harm as the French fleet--unless they blows up when
we takes 'em."
The Guffin shook his head.
"Well, you know, Lampert, as I never 'ad no opinion of their fleet.
But that ain't the question. Salisbury may have 'is reasons for not
takin' it away, though I fails to see 'em; but the real question is,
why we don't have a man with guts and go in command. It's my firm
belief as there's many a merchant captain as could work the
diplomatic game to better hadvantage. Look at the experience we has,
dealing with owners contrary as hell, and with consignees and with
'arbour-masters and pilots. Where Salisbury is wrong, is in his not
goin' about and freshin' up his mind. And he works by rule o' thumb
and dead reckoning. It ain't no wonder we can see where's his eye's
out."
"It ain't," said the compliant Simcox.
"Well," sighed Lampert, "I owns freely as I don't feel that sure I'd
like to run his show."
The Guffin laughed.
"But you ain't 'ad my experience yet, Lampert. Now, I'd hundertake
to come right down into the harena, and make them French and Germans
sit up like monkeys on a horgan while I played the tune."
"I believe you," said Simcox, rubbing his hard hands.
"Look at the difficulties we 'as to contend with," said the skipper,
with a rapidly thickening utterance and an increasing loss of
aspirates--"look at the vig'lance we 'as to use. Rocks _and_ shoals
_and_ hother ships. It's 'igh education to be a master-mariner, and
the Board of Trade knows it--knows it well. This 'ere crowd's all
English except that one Dutchman, but if so be we'd English and
Dagoes, and Dutchmen and Calashees, I'd 'ave showed you and Salisbury
'ow to 'andle mixed sweets. Vig'lance, difficulties, bright
look-out, and the rule o' the road. And look at the chart! That's
me!"
And very shortly afterwards the triple conversation ceased, for the
captain lay snoring in his cabin.
The _Potluck_ was a barque of eleven hundred tons' register, and was
bound for Adelaide, with a general cargo of all mixed things under
heaven and on earth. Now she was engaged in running down her
easting, and, as her skipper believed, was somewhere about Lat. 44°
30' S., Long. 50° E., and not far off the Crozets. The westerly
winds were blowing hard, but had the worst chill of winter off, for
the month was September. Nevertheless, as old Jones, the skipper,
was on a composite track, with a maximum latitude of 45° S., and was
bound farther south still it might have been to the advantage of all
concerned if he had drunk less, talked little, and minded his own
business instead of arguing foreign politics.
But to each man Fate often gives his chance of proving what he boasts
to be his particular skill in the universe.
When Lampert relieved Simcox at midnight, the weather was thick, and
neither man's temper was of the sweetest, so they had a bit of a
breeze.
"What kind of a relief d'ye call this?' growled Simcox.
"I call it a very good relief," replied Lampert, "and a darned sight
better one than you deserve. You owe me ten minutes even now."
He looked down the scuttle at the clock.
"Why, you owe me twenty."
Simcox flew out with pretended politeness.
"Oh, make it half an hour! Don't let's haggle about such a trifle.
What's it matter if I stand here waiting? Can't I keep the whole
bloomin' watch for you?"
"Go to hell," said Lampert sulkily.
And Simcox went below.
"To be a sailor is to be a natural born fool," said Lampert,
addressing the bitter and unkindly elements at large, "and to be on
board a ship with such a windy gassing crowd, from the old man down
to the cook, is very trying. It's very trying."
The wind took off a little later, but the weather was still thickish.
"It's like lookin' through a haystack," grunted Lampert, "but there,
bar an island or so there's nothing to speak of in our way. And if
the skipper will crack on, and it a week since we saw the sun, it's
the owners' look out, not mine."
He spoke with a certain bitterness, as though he would really enjoy
being wrecked, in the trust that the _Potluck_ was not insured, and
that old Jones would get his certificate cancelled, or at least
suspended.
"'Twould give the old ass time to study foreign politics," sneered
Lampert, as it breezed up again.
And five minutes' later, while Lampert was lighting his pipe half-way
down the cabin stairs, he heard a bellow forward which made him drop
thoughts of tobacco.
"Breakers ahead!"
The watch came out on deck and ran aft; and were followed by the
watch below in various articles of attire, not calculated to keep
them very warm.
The _Potluck_ had been running with the wind nearly dead aft.
"Starboard, starboard!" roared Lampert. "Oh, steady; hold her there!"
The vessel ran off to port at a sharp angle to her wake.
"Up here some," yelled the mate, "and set the spanker! Stand by
the---- My God!"