OUTWARD BOUND
About a quarter of an hour after the departure of Captain Burns,
Frank emerged from the boys’ house, looking and feeling desperately
uncomfortable in his brand-new suit of dungaree. It was stiff and
smelly and exceedingly unbecoming, and besides he had been chaffed
unmercifully by the two bigger boys, who left him hardly room in the
house to change, and while they smoked short pipes with all the air of
veteran seamen, showed no inclination to hurry on deck as he was trying
to do. They were second-voyage apprentices, and accordingly looked down
upon him from a supreme height as a greenhorn, and one whom it would
be at once their duty and pleasure to put through his facings, as they
termed it. So he was glad to escape from them, being hot and indignant
at the sudden change from quite an important member of society to one
of no consequence whatever.
He stood for a moment irresolute, feeling strangely lonely, but was
suddenly startled by the mate’s hoarse voice in his ear, saying, “Now
then, admiral, don’t stand there like a Calcutta pilot, but get along
and make yourself generally useless. Coil them ropes up there first
thing.”
Poor Frank, he could only stammer out, “I--I don’t know what you mean,
sir.”
The mate stood for a moment as if trying to realise again how helpless
a home-bred boy is on board ship for the first time, then he roared,
“Williams! Johnson! where are ye? Come along and show this fellow how
to coil up the running gear.”
His cry brought the two youths out of the house, muttering as they
came, but the joy of having some one to bully soon made them forget
the annoyance they felt at having their skulk disturbed, and between
them they made Frank feel that instead of being a rather smart fellow,
he was just a poor imbecile who didn’t know anything at all that was
really worth knowing. But we must set it down to his credit that he
never once wished himself back home again, in spite of his grievous
disappointment.
Those two bright boys led our hero a fine dance for about an hour,
until there was a sudden diversion created by the arrival of the
crew, every one of whom was more or less drunk and quarrelsome. Yet
none of them were so far gone as to be useless, and so amidst a
series of evolutions, which to Frank were simply maddening in their
complications, and in which he felt always in somebody’s way, the
vessel was gradually moved away from her berth and dragged by the
little dock-tug out into the river, where a larger tug was in waiting
to seize her and tow her out to sea.
While passing out between the pierheads, Frank could not help feeling
a pang of disappointment that no one whom he knew was there to bid him
farewell, for he saw quite a little body of people, mostly of a very
low class he thought, shabby men, and gaudily clothed, draggled-looking
women, between whom and the sailors many “so-longs” and “pleasant
passages” were exchanged; but the wonder and the novelty of the whole
scene was such that he had little time to feel despondent, and indeed
there was no delay, the vessel gliding through without a pause on the
broad bosom of the muddy Mersey.
The keen wind made him shiver, but so great was his wonder at the scene
around, the numbers of vessels, from the mighty ocean steamships to the
swift ferry-boats and thronging small craft of varying rigs, and the
manner in which the _Sealark_ threaded her way among them, that all
made up a panorama which kept him almost stupid with surprise.
But he was not allowed to stand staring about him; the harsh voice of
the mate shouting, “Get along there forrard, boy, and lend a hand,”
started him off in the direction indicated by the mate’s finger, where
he found everybody busy at a task which seemed to him one of most
bewildering complication. Not a word that passed did he understand any
more than he knew what was being done or why, and if ever anybody felt
a useless fool he did.
All hands were engaged in rigging out the jibboom, a great spar that
protrudes over the bowsprit from the forepart of the ship, and is
secured by a number of stays, guys, and chains, which, hanging loosely
about it as it was gradually hove out into its permanent place, looked
to him as if the tangle could never be cleared. Everything that was
said or shouted was unintelligible--for all he knew they might as well
have been talking in another language, and he began to feel quite dazed
as well as foolish. And everybody seemed offended with him because he
did not understand, bad words were freely flung at him, for whatever he
did seemed to be wrong, and altogether he became pretty miserable. For,
as I have said, he was naturally a bright, smart boy, and he felt angry
and hurt at his inability to understand what was said to him or to do
anything that he was ordered.
At last, to his great relief, the mate said, “Here, get away aft out of
this, you’re only in everybody’s way; go and help clear up the decks.
Mr. Cope” (shouting), “set them boys clearing up decks.”
This order was to the second mate, who was aft, and whose acquaintance
Frank now made for the first time. This officer was young and
gentlemanly, with a pleasant manner, and Frank felt a great liking for
him, which quite cheered the boy up. His awkward attempts to handle
a broom, and his ignorance of where to put things that had to be
cleared away were looked upon leniently, and, to help matters, he found
himself in company with another lad of about his own age, but more
delicate-looking, who found time to exchange confidences with him, to
the effect that he was also on his first voyage, felt just as stupid
and helpless, and that his name was Harry Carter. This was still more
cheering to Frank, and he began to move about a little more briskly
until going up on the poop he was suddenly confronted by a man with a
red face, a bulbous nose, and little cunning eyes, who said, “Hallo,
boy, what’s your name?”
Now Frank, being a boy of keen observation, felt a great dislike to
this man at once, but something told him to be careful, and so he
answered politely, “Frank Brown, sir. I’m an apprentice.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” sneered the man. “Well, I’m your captain, I’ll
make a sailor of you, but if I catch you skulking or coming any of your
school games here I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Now get on
with your work.”
And turning to the pilot, who stood looking gravely on, the captain
said, “Nothin’ like puttin’ these youngsters in their place at the
first go off, is there, pilot?”
“No, I suppose there isn’t, Captain Swainson,” replied the pilot, and
then checked himself suddenly as if he intended to say more, but felt
it best not to do so.
Undoubtedly Frank began to feel that things were not at all up to his
expectations. He did not realise how vague those expectations were, but
they had all been of a high order, and didn’t embrace a coarse bully
of a mate and a red-nosed skipper who smelt very strongly of stale
drink, and who began to threaten at the first interview. However, he
did the best thing he could, went on with his coiling up of ropes, and
descended from the poop as quickly as possible.
Just as he was wondering what the next thing would be, he heard the
mate roar, “Supper.” More wonder, it was not yet dark, and could it be
possible that at sea they had supper in the daytime? None of his books
of adventure had told him that there are only three meals a day in the
Mercantile Marine, breakfast, dinner, and supper, the latter answering
to our tea at home as far as the hour is concerned.
He stood wondering, until the second mate, passing, said kindly,
“Now, my lad, go and get your supper, you’ll want it before to-morrow
morning.”
Frank murmured, “Thank you, sir,” and almost mechanically went towards
the house he had put his traps in, being met at the door by one of the
last year’s apprentices, who said, “Now then, none o’ yer skulking; go
to the galley and get the supper, and be quick about it.” At the same
time thrusting two tin quart-pots into his hands.
Frank obeyed, for fortunately he knew where the galley was, and
presenting himself at its door, said to a very hideous negro he saw
there, “Please, I’ve come for the supper for the apprentices.”
“Oh ho, ha ha, he he!” gasped the nigger, “geess you’re a new chum,
_berry_ green ain’t it. Neb’ mine, hold out yer pots,” and Frank, doing
so, saw to his amazement a modicum of tea ladled out into them like
soup, from a big saucepan.
“Now take dat away,” said the cook, “an’ come back ’gen, I’ve got some
scouse for ye; feed yer well fus start off; letcher down easy like, he
he!”
Frank’s disgust and chagrin were too great for words, but he had
already learned one lesson, not to talk back, even to a loathsome
negro cook who looked as if made of dirt, so he hurried off to his new
home, and putting the pots on the deck, in the absence of a table,
came back and fetched a tin pan of what looked like very badly made
Irish stew. This he carried into the house, and then sat down on his
sea-chest and looked blankly at his shipmates.
The two seniors said not a word, but producing tin plates and spoons,
helped themselves to a goodly portion of “scouse” and a biscuit out of
a grimy box (the biscuit looked, Frank thought, like those he used to
give the dog at home), and began to eat at a great rate and in hoggish
fashion. The other new-comer looked on helplessly as if unable to grasp
the meaning of things, and Frank wondered if it was not some horrid
dream from which he would presently awake. He was suddenly and rudely
roused by the elder of the two seniors rapping him over the knuckles
with his spoon and saying, “Now then, mummy’s darlin’, wade in and
get some supper; you’ll get no more till seven bells to-morrow, and
besides, it’s bad cattin’ on an empty stumjack.”
For a moment Frank found his tongue and replied, “I don’t know what you
mean. Is this our tea?”
What a superb joke. How the two did laugh and choke, and then when they
found their breath again, the senior said scornfully, “Looky here, my
soft kiddy, the sooner you wake up the better for you. This is your
tea, as you call it, and as Bill and me are pretty sharp set, you and
the other young nobleman had better produce your dinner service and
fall to, or I’m hanged if you’ll get any at all.”
At this point there was a diversion caused by the other new-comer,
Harry, bursting into hysterical tears. For a moment the two hardened
ones suspended their eating and gazed open-mouthed at him, remembering
perhaps their own experiences only a year ago, then with rude chaff and
empty threats they resumed their interrupted supper. But it did Frank
good. He couldn’t comfort the weaker boy, but he set his teeth and
determined that he wouldn’t be laughed at anyhow.
So he began to hunt up his mess traps, plate, pot, pannikin, knife,
fork, and spoon, and at last he found them, but with all his will power
aroused he couldn’t use them. He had no desire for food. So he just put
them in his bunk and sat down again, wondering.
He had not sat thus for more than a minute when his comrade in
misfortune became violently sick, for the ship was just beginning to
curtsy to the incoming sea over the bar as she was tossed seaward head
to the wind, and even had the weather been as fine as could be wished,
the many strange smells and the beastly appearance of the food were
enough to turn any delicate boy’s stomach. It did for Frank at any
rate, and almost immediately he too was vomiting in sympathy, utterly
oblivious to the blows and abuse the two seniors showered upon them
both with the utmost liberality.
With a last flicker of sense, but almost as much dead as alive,
the two new-comers crawled into their bunks among their unpacked
belongings there, and lay wallowing in unconscious misery, intensified,
if possible, by the fumes of strong tobacco from the pipes of their
hardened shipmates, who sententiously observed that there was nothing
like bacca to kill stink.
Overdrawn, exaggerated, false, I hear people say. Well, all I reply is,
ask those who know. If only boys going to sea like this could have a
little training first, much of this suffering might be avoided, but for
those who come to it fresh from a good home ashore, it is much worse
than I can express in print. However, I am not to moralise, only to
tell Frank Brown’s story.
He cannot even now say what happened during the next twenty-four
hours, only he sometimes wonders what the others were doing. Somebody
had to work, and he feels that the plight of the chaps forward in the
forecastle was worse than his, for he at any rate was left in peace,
such peace as it was. Sea-sickness is horrible even in a beautifully
appointed cabin with kindly attendants and all kinds of palliatives
tendered gently, but in a foul den, on hard bunk boards, with nubbly
portions of your outfit being ground into you at every roll of the
ship, and the reek of strong tobacco and bilge-water, it is worse than
horrible. And yet Frank says that even through that awful time he still
hoped that he was right in choosing a sea life, still felt that it
would be all right by-and-by, and I believe him, except that I believe
for much of the time he was enduring only and didn’t think at all.
After what seemed an age of misery, Frank awoke to find his mouth
dry and horrid-tasting, his head aching as if it would split, and an
all-gone feeling inside of him. And he was so terribly thirsty and cold
and weak. But he was not done up entirely, not beyond making an effort,
and so as soon as he had grasped the nature of his surroundings,
realised a little where he was, he made that effort and managed to get
out of his top bunk, falling in a heap upon the floor. He lay there for
a few minutes and then struggled to his feet, holding on to anything he
could clutch blindly, but with one overmastering desire for fresh air,
and next to that drink.
He staggered to the door and stumbled out on deck, the keen briny
breeze acting like a tonic upon his poisoned blood, and as he
stood swaying there the healing of the sea came to him, the strong
life-giving air revived him, and he felt better.
A voice in his ear said, “Hello, Marse Newboy, you feelin’ more better.
Come along a galley an I give him a drink tea.”
It was the nigger cook, but to Frank he was no longer disgusting, the
last twenty-four hours had educated him beyond that, and he followed
gratefully, guided by the strong grip on his arm of that black sinewy
hand. Arriving at the galley door, a pannikin of tea (it was tepid,
sugarless, and weak) was handed to him, and as he drank he wondered if
anything had ever been so refreshing. He made it last as long as he
could, and then set the empty pannikin down on the coal-locker with a
sigh, saying, “Thank you, cook, that _was_ good.”
“You quoite welcome, sar,” said the cook with a flourish, and Frank
turned to go, but where he did not know.
The problem was solved for him at once, for the mate came along and,
with a string of bad words, demanded what he meant by skulking like
this when there was obviously nothing the matter with him. Meekly
Frank began to answer that he was very sorry, he hadn’t been well, but
the mate cut him short with, “Get along and lend a hand clearing up
decks. Think you came to sea for pleasure, I s’pose, but I’ll show you
different ’fore I’ve done with ye,” &c.
Frank made no reply, but crawled about and did his best, and so began
his sea work, as so many thousands like him have done before under
exactly similar circumstances.
He had not been long at his task before one of the senior apprentices
came up to him and said, “Hello, mammy’s kid, what are you doing on
deck in your watch below?”
For the life of him Frank did not know what was meant, and he felt this
entire ignorance of everything begin to annoy him again. But he only
said civilly, “I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t understand, don’t ye?” mimicking him; “well, although you
haven’t done a thing but make a beastly mess in the house and sleep
like a hog for twenty-four hours, you ain’t expected on deck till eight
bells, so you can get below again.”
“Can’t I stay on deck, then,” pleaded Frank, “it does smell so in the
room?”
“Yes it does, thanks to you and that other little beast. No, you can’t
stay on deck in your watch below, but you can clean up the filthy mess
you’ve been making in the house, and you shall, so get about it as
quick’s the devil’ll let ye.”
Of course theoretically Frank should have rebelled, but he felt so
low and helpless that he hadn’t a kick in him, and besides he did not
know what power over him his young tormentor might have, so instead of
firing up he meekly replied, “Will you show me what I’m to do, and I’ll
try and do it?”
“Oh, I’ll show ye right enough,” answered the young tyrant, who led the
way to the house from whence Frank had so recently emerged.
But as soon as he stepped within, the foul, fetid atmosphere of the
place revived his nausea, and he staggered out again on deck crying, “I
can’t stand it, it makes me sick.”
And yet he had seen that the other two lads were asleep in it, the one
from sheer exhaustion and the other because he had got used to it. He
also saw that it was in such a condition that it could only be compared
to a hogsty, and even in his then mental state he could not help
wondering however he would grow used to sleeping in such a hole as that.
His tormentor was about to abuse him again, but the voice of the second
mate, whose watch on deck it was, sounded, calling, “Williams, where
are you?” and Williams answering, “Aye, aye, sir,” sped away, leaving
Frank sitting on the main hatch gulping deep breaths of strong, pure
air.
Now for the first time he really did repent of his decision. Apart
from his physical misery, which was great, he was utterly alone and
helpless, and, although he felt willing to learn, he saw no prospect
of anybody taking the trouble to teach him. And he could not help
contrasting the ordered comfort and loving sheltering care of the home
he had left with his present condition. It was as if the bottom had
fallen out of his world.
And then as he sat there he lifted his eyes and saw the great white
sails towering away in all the beauty of their swelling curves towards
the blue sky above them, took in with a growing sense of charm the
ordered web-like arrangement of the standing and running rigging, and
felt even in that miserable hour a little compensation. Indeed it might
have been very much worse, a gale of wind to begin with would have
added greatly to his sufferings, but the weather was quite fine and
there was a nice leading wind down the Channel, so that had there but
been any one to show him what to do to make himself as comfortable as
circumstances would permit, he was really getting a fair send-off.
It was in the month of September, and so although the time was the
second dog-watch, between six and eight in the evening, it was still
light, and as the ship rolled he was able to get a glimpse of the sea
with its small waves and a few distant vessels dotted about like little
boats, some with a smear of black smoke above them and others showing a
glint of white. He began to feel more at ease except when he thought of
the den into which he would have to go presently for some additional
clothes, for he was shivering with the cold.
But he sat on until he heard four double strokes on the bell, when
Williams swaggering up to him said, “Now then, my boy, it’s your watch
on deck,” and passing into the house lit a lamp and called Johnson, the
other senior apprentice.
Still he sat there stupidly until Johnson coming out said, “Hello,
young feller, haven’t you got any more clothes to put on than that? You
going to keep watch to-night in only a dungaree suit?”
That roused him, and staggering to his feet he said earnestly, “Won’t
you tell me what I’ve got to do?”
Johnson stared at him for a moment and then, his better feelings
overcoming his first inclination to laugh, he replied, “All right, come
aft with me to muster and then I’ll give you a few wrinkles.”
As he spoke, the crew, nine in number, came slouching aft, a very
motley gang, and mustered about the after hatch, while the second mate
from the poop called out their names, to which each one answered,
“Here.” Then when all had responded the second mate said, “Relieve the
wheel and look-out, that’ll do the watch.”
The crew dispersed, and Johnson, taking Frank by the arm, said, “Now
come along and get your jacket; you won’t have time to change your
pants, for you’ll have to take first watch on the poop with the mate.”
So Frank made a bold plunge into the house and succeeded in keeping
down his nausea until he had extracted his jacket. Then, at his
mentor’s direction, he made his way up the lee poop-ladder and stood
holding to the lee mizzen rigging, awaiting what should come next.
In a few minutes the mate, who was prowling about, espied him, and
coming up to him said, “Well, boy, you’ve made a start at last, I see.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Frank. “All right,” went on the mate, “let’s have
no more skulking. All you’ve got to do now is to keep your weather
eye liftin’ and learn quick. For the present your duty is to carry my
orders if necessary and to keep look-out for the time, the clock is
in the companion aft there, an’ every half-hour you must strike that
bell there, one bell for each half-hour up till four bells; one, two,
three, four; and at four bells Johnson will relieve you. Then you can
go down off the poop and have a caulk on the grating before the cabin,
but mind, no going forward into the house and going to sleep there, or
you’ll drop in for it.” And with this brief warning the mate resumed
his prowl up and down the poop.
Frank stood at his post trying to feel the importance of being on
watch, and not succeeding at all well, afraid to move about and yet
wondering why he should not, and hoping desperately that he would soon
be able to understand a little of what was going on. As his eyes became
accustomed to the gloom, he made out the dim figure at the wheel, upon
whose weather-beaten face the light from the binnacle, or illuminated
compass, fell fitfully; he looked over the side and saw the glowing
white foam on the parted waters, looked away from the ship and saw only
blackness, for the sky had clouded over, and thought with amazement of
the fact that they were sailing along in utter darkness, and yet nobody
seemed to mind.
And then he thrilled to the roots of his hair as a hoarse voice sounded
out of the gloom, “Green light on the port bow, sir.”
“Aye, aye,” gruffly responded the mate, as he strode forward to the
break of the poop.
And presently Frank held his breath to see a vast lumbering shape
emerge from the gloom with one gleaming light on its side. On it came
until it seemed as if it would overwhelm the _Sealark_, and then,
sheering just a little, passed at what seemed a terrific speed close
alongside, so close indeed that the mate hurled a volley of abuse at
the invisible beings on board the other vessel, and was answered in
kind. It was a close shave and quite unnecessary. Frank was dreadfully
alarmed, he did not know why, and had no idea how near they had been to
a terrible disaster.
But fate was kind to him, although he thought he had never known two
hours be so long in all his life. He managed to acquit himself of his
task of striking the bell all right, and nothing else occurred during
the watch.
At four bells, he saw a man come aft and relieve the wheel, and waited
patiently for Johnson to come and relieve him. But Johnson came not,
and at last Frank mustered up courage to go and ask the mate if he
might go and call the other boy. The mate grunted assent, and Frank,
groping his way down the ladder--his legs being cramped and stiff with
the cold and standing still so long--succeeded in finding his relief
stretched full length on the grating, snoring melodiously. It was a
hard job to waken him, but at last he sat up and growled like a bear.
Just then the mate’s voice roared, “Johnson,” and all trace of sloth
disappeared. He sprang up and rushed on the poop, where Frank, with
just a trace of satisfaction, heard him get a few sea-compliments and
warnings of what would happen if he didn’t turn up smarter next time.
But Frank had matters of his own to attend to, and with a sense of
relief, such as he had never felt to his recollection in his beautiful
bed at home, curled himself up like a dog upon his hard couch and
passed almost immediately into deep sleep, although he had neither
pillow nor covering, and was, moreover, both cold and hungry.
He was awakened almost immediately after, he thought, by a pretty hard
kick, and heard Johnson’s voice saying, “Now then, it’s eight bells,
muster the watch,” and, memory coming to his aid, he pulled himself
together to take part in the same proceeding as before, the calling of
names, &c.
And then realising that it was his watch below, and that he had four
hours of uninterrupted sleep before him, he returned to his former
corner on the grating and went fast asleep again directly. The thought
of sleeping in the house made him feel quite bad, and he hastened to
forget it in sleep. Several times during the watch he had dim ideas of
voices and noises, but not enough to arouse him thoroughly.
The wind had changed, and the starboard, or second mate’s watch, had
all their work to trim and shorten sail. But Frank slept through it,
although when he was aroused at eight bells--four in the morning--he
was wet through, and shivering with the cold. And hungry! But that was
a good sign, showing that he had quite got over his sea-sickness, and
that in a very short time.
The ship was now moving about in lively fashion, and as he mounted
the poop again he held on convulsively, feeling almost as if his legs
were of no use to him. But he had now reached the stage of passive
endurance, and although he was conscious of suffering cold, hunger,
and weariness, he felt dimly that he could hang on and bear it, since
others around him were faring no better.
The relief was nearer than he thought. At two bells--five
o’clock--there was a cry from forrard of “Coffee,” and the mate
striding over to him said not unkindly, “Go an’ get yer coffee, boy.”
He answered with chattering teeth, “Thankye, sir,” and crawling down
the ladder groped his way to the house, where he found Johnson already
seated with a steaming pannikin of some brown liquid in one hand and a
biscuit in the other.
“There’s yours,” gruffly said Johnson, indicating a pot hooked on to
the side of a bunk; and Frank gratefully seized it as well as a biscuit
out of the box.
It was not like anything he had drunk before which he could say was
at all nice, but it was boiling hot and sweet, sending quite a glow
through his shaking body. The biscuit was flinty, but Frank’s teeth
were good, and besides he was savagely hungry, so that he really found
himself enjoying this impromptu meal, and quite forgot that he was
sitting in the house which had been such a place of horror to him.
For the wind having changed, there was a current of pure air blowing
through it, and most of its foulness had been swept away. As far as
Frank was concerned, the worst of his probation was over.
By the time he had eaten his biscuit and finished his coffee he felt
a different being, and when Johnson said, “You’d better get aft, it’s
nearly three bells,” he was ready, as he felt, to face anything. So
he hurried aft to his place on the poop and ventured to walk about a
bit in spite of the motion of the ship, the mate saying nothing to him
until four bells.
Then with a roar that startled Frank greatly the mate ordered, “Wash
decks,” whereupon the watch came slouching aft with bare feet and
trousers rolled up, carrying brooms and buckets, and Frank, having now
a good look at them for the first time, could not help feeling another
pang of deep disappointment. Were these the fine romantic fellows he
had read of, these miserable-looking, curiously clad ragamuffins,
more disreputable in appearance than any tramps he had ever seen, and
speaking, when they did speak at all, in a language that he could not
understand?
It was another added to the many problems which he had to solve by
himself, but the present was not a time for doing so, for he found
that his mind was fully occupied by the duties of carrying water and
maintaining his balance withal as the ship rolled and the wet decks
seemed as slippery as glass.
But he felt glad of one thing, this business was, if very wearisome
to a lad who had never worked before, easily learned, so although
the buckets of water seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and the
quantity of them used was enormous, he stuck to it, did his best, and
felt that he was getting on. He did not like the surly grumbling way
everybody spoke, for it seemed to him that his efforts might have been
recognised, but he grew to regard even that as a part of the business
he had to learn, and was consoled.
Meanwhile the work went steadily forward, and the decks began to
assume a neatness and cleanliness which appealed to Frank, although
he felt how hard a task it had been to make them so. Seven bells
struck and the other watch was called to breakfast, while he, with his
fellow-apprentice Johnson, busied themselves in tidying up the poop and
cleaning the brasswork with oil and bath-brick, Johnson giving himself
more than professional airs because it was necessary for him to teach
the novice the simplest thing.
There were not wanting signs, however, that Johnson and Frank would
presently be very good friends, for Johnson was only a year Frank’s
senior and had no one else to talk to, which, as he was a sociable lad
at bottom, made him forget that superiority so dear to a boy and speak
every now and then as a comrade.
While they were thus busy the captain came on deck, looking even less
prepossessing than he had done the day previous. His evil eye fell
upon everything like a blight. He grumbled at the helmsman, and at the
boys, muttered something unintelligible about the trim of the sails,
and generally made himself appear as much like the enemy of mankind as
possible. Frank felt quite nervous at being near him, and when eight
bells sounded and Williams came to relieve them, the pair lost not an
instant in getting off the poop out of their commander’s way.
But it was a sore trial for the new chum to enter that house and leave
the pure sharp air outside, although he felt that he would much like a
little shelter. Still he was in some small measure hardened, and the
filthy hole did not seem so terrible as it had done. Only the sight of
the other new apprentice, Harry Carter, made him feel a curious mixture
of pity and disgust. I am not going to describe him as I have seen him
and his like many times, sufficient to say that he had now been lying
for two days in the midst of a heap of his belongings without the
slightest attention being paid to him by anybody, except for a drink
or two of water which Johnson had given him. He looked almost as if he
were dying, and did not seem to care.
The two other youngsters, whatever their feelings may have been, had
other business on hand just now, the getting of their breakfast. Frank
took the two pots and fetched the curious coffee, waiting a moment
when he had received it for some sign that there was something else
forthcoming. The cook, however, said sharply, “Dat’s all. Doan fink you
gets scouse any more, do yer?”
Frank retreated without a word, and on reaching the house found that
Johnson had been aft and procured about two ounces of butter from the
steward wherewith to lubricate their biscuits, and with this and the
coffee they made what breakfast they could.
Having appeased their hunger somewhat, they made an attempt to help
the sick boy for their own sakes. They dragged him out of his bunk and
wiped him down roughly, although he implored them to let him alone;
then they did their best to straighten up the extraordinary confusion
of his bunk, unrolled his bedding and laid him on it. It was all
they knew how to do, and anyhow their time was precious. Frank made
a clearance of his bunk too, and some sort of a bed for himself with
a curious angry feeling that he ought not to have been allowed to be
so ignorant of the commonest duties of life, and that anyhow some one
ought to show him how here.
What to do with his many belongings he did not know, there were no
lockers, no shelves, just a few nails driven into the bulkheads, and
his chest, from having been tousled over in a wild hurried search for
things, was so full that it wouldn’t shut. At last he said despairingly
to Johnson, “I wish I only knew where to put my things, there’s no
drawers, no cupboards, and I never put anything away at home anyhow.”
“Oh, shove ’em anywhere,” said Johnson testily, “don’t bother me. I’ve
got trouble enough with my own dunnage. Go and get a broom and sweep
the wreck up into a corner, I’m going to turn in, I’m as tired as a
dog.” And suiting the action to the word he flung himself into his bunk
just as he was, without even troubling to take off his boots or change
his damp clothes.
Frank found a broom and drew together the accumulated rubbish and dirt
on the deck, and then feeling ashamed to leave it there in spite of
what Johnson had said, scooped up a double handful of it, went outside
and flung it over the nearest rail, which happened to be to windward,
with the result that it all blew back on top of him, into his eyes and
over the clean deck. A yell of execration went up from two of the men
who were passing as the dirt blew over them, but beyond cursing him
roundly, and suggesting that he had never yet been round Cape Horn,
they did nothing to explain the why of his mistake.
He hastily retreated within his den, finding his watchmate already
asleep. He felt the call of rest very strongly, but his cleanly
instincts rebelled against the fact that for two days he had not had
his clothes off, or even an apology for a wash. Still he knew not
where to get any water except salt, and that was a task he felt beyond
his powers, there were no conveniences of any kind for washing, and
he--well, like most boys who go unprepared to sea for the first time,
he just did the easiest thing, got into his bunk, and in less than a
minute was fast asleep.