AMONG THE ISLANDS
Many masters of our beautiful language have endeavoured to depict the
glories of a morning among the South Sea Islands, and I am in no mood
to emulate their achievements. I can only say that when Frank, after a
long night’s sleep, the first really satisfying sleep he had enjoyed
for five months, arose at the call of “Coffee” at 5 A.M., he emerged
into a sense of loveliness that, boy as he was, sank into his very
soul. The atmosphere was so sweet and pure, the odour of the land so
entrancing, the beauty of the islands and limpid seas so far beyond
anything he had ever dreamed of, that he found himself wonderingly
comparing his surroundings with what he remembered of his childish
dreams of heaven.
But he was rudely awakened from these unwonted visions by the hoarse
voice of the mate shouting “Turn to.”
He hastily gulped down his coffee, regretted his loss of a smoke, and
strode out on deck ready for work. The men forrard made no sign of
their existence, and after waiting about two minutes Mr. Jenkins turned
to the second mate and said, “Go forrard, Mr. Cope, and give those
fellows a rouse. I s’pose they’ve overslept.”
The second mate marched to the forecastle door and reiterated the
mate’s order to “Turn to,” but was met with a volley of oaths and evil
advice as to his future.
He made no reply, but returned and reported to the mate, who
immediately seized an iron belaying-pin and was about to rush forward
when he was stopped by the second mate, who seized his arm, and pointed
to the space between the ship and the beach, where only a very short
distance away a whaleboat was coming at a great rate directly towards
them.
“It’s the old man,” said the second mate in a low tone, “and he
seems to have a pretty gang with him. I shouldn’t wonder if he means
mischief; at this time in the morning, too.”
The mate looked thoughtfully at the boat for a moment, and then turning
to the second mate said quietly, “I believe you’re right; at any rate
I’ll get ready for emergencies before they arrive, and you’d better do
the same.”
So they both hurried into the saloon, and seeking their berths, charged
their revolvers and pocketed them; then coming on deck, the mate
awaited calmly the arrival of the boat alongside with the skipper, who
had gone ashore overnight in the first boat that was available. He had
not long to wait, for the boat, propelled by four stalwart natives,
dashed alongside in great style, and the mate standing on the gangway
saw to his disgust that the superior officer was drunk, and that he was
accompanied by three men who had “beach-comber,” or unattached loafer,
writ large upon them. However he waited quietly until the skipper
swayingly mounted the rail, then said calmly, “Good morning, Captain
Swainson.”
I cannot put the skipper’s reply down, because it was not only abusive
but couched in very foul language. It raised the mate’s wrath, and he
was about to make a hot reply when he became aware of the presence
of one of the beach-combers, a huge brutal man who looked ripe for
anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter. This visitor laid his
hand on Mr. Jenkins’ shoulder, saying, “Now, Mister Chief Mate, mind
yer stops. I’m a friend of the cap’s, and I’ve come off to have a
little sociable conversation with you about your mutinous behaviour on
the passage out.”
“And I’m another friend of his,” said the second visitor, pushing in.
“Count me in,” shouted the third, who had now gained the deck, and
there the mate stood, confronted by as nasty a situation as could well
be imagined.
The skipper, looking as malignant as a monkey, rubbed his hands and
emitted an exultant chuckle, then said, “Aha, me hero, boot’s on
t’other leg now. I’ll make ye sing small enough before I’ve done with
ye. Will you kindly inform me” (with profound sarcasm) “why the hands
haven’t been turned to yet? I want you to understand that I’ll have
discipline aboard this ship or I’ll know the reason why.”
The mate only turned on his heel and replied, “I’ll talk to you when
you’re sober. As for you,” turning fiercely to the loafers, “if you
interfere with me in any way, look out for yourselves. I’m heeled and
don’t fear a whole regiment of beach-combers. Come on, Mr. Cope, let’s
leave these gentlemen to their pleasures and get the hands to work.”
So saying he strode forward, gripping a belaying-pin from the rail as
he went, and on arriving at the forecastle door he shouted, “Now then,
are you fellows all dead in there? Turn to.”
There was an almost inarticulate rumble of oaths in reply, but the
mate had heard enough to put the draught upon his smouldering rage,
and leaping into the forecastle he seized the foremost man, the big
German, by the throat, and flinging himself backwards, they both fell
in a kicking heap on deck. The second mate sprang forward, and dragging
the sailor off the mate flung him sideways into the scuppers, the mate
just springing to his feet in time to meet the rush of the other men.
Unfortunately he had dropped his weapon in the struggle with the first
man, and had not time to get his pistol out.
The second mate was in the same case, and for a moment it looked as
if they would be overpowered. But as usual the unexpected happened,
there was a scuffling rush from aft, and into the fight broke the
three visitors like a whirlwind, striking and kicking with such hearty
goodwill at the mutineers that in the short space of a minute the
struggle was over, and the victory of law and order was complete. The
mate and second mate, panting and bleeding, stood astonished and glared
at their helpers, the foremost of whom said, “It’s all right, Mister
Mate, I come aboard with the idea of puttin’ you through, but I ben
skipper myself too long an’ ben in too many tight places to have any
sympathy with mutineers, and I’m glad to have ben of any service to ye.
My name is Haynes, an’ I’m willing to be chummy if you are. Shake,” and
he held out a hairy fist.
The mate gripped his hand gratefully, and said, “Thank’ee, Cap’n
Haynes, but now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to get these blighters
goin’; duty first, y’know.” And turning to the discomfited crowd
he shouted, “Now get along an’ wash decks, an’ the first man I see
skulking I’ll clap the irons on him.”
There was an immediate move to the work, and in five minutes the usual
everyday business of cleaning the ship was going forward as if nothing
had happened.
This time Frank and his chums had taken no part in the proceedings,
but they had not failed to notice all that went on, and as they handed
along water or worked at the pump they meditated upon the advantages of
a plucky front shown to opposing forces. And when breakfast-time came
they eagerly compared notes upon the upshot of the morning’s work, much
to the advantage of the mate and the disadvantage of the skipper.
But they soon forgot all about it in their admiration of the natives,
who as the day set in had come off laden with fruit and sundries for
sale. They were a splendid set of fellows, looking fierce enough for a
regular cannibal raid, with their enormous bushy heads of hair frizzed
out like a huge halo all around, and their necklaces of sharks’ teeth
gleaming upon their shiny, tawny bodies. But they were peaceable enough
now and only bent on trade, on getting rid of the loads of fruit
they had brought in exchange for money, Frank being astounded at the
quantity he obtained for a shilling.
He however could not think of much else because of his admiration of
the antics of those islanders in the water. They seemed to be even more
at home there than in their canoes, and as a good swimmer himself he
felt what a difference there was between what we know as swimming and
the fish-like antics of men who were almost brought up in the water.
What with the noise and excitement consequent upon the constant arrival
of more and more natives Frank got no breakfast, only a little fruit,
so that when turn-to time came he was angry with himself, and loath to
turn away from this most interesting experience.
But there was much work to be done, and the mate was obviously bent
upon getting a full day out of his men, although in doing so he gave
himself no rest, and of course the boys had their full share. So busy
were they that they did not notice the absence of the skipper and his
body-guard of beach-combers, who, finding no liquor on board, had not
tarried to breakfast, but had gone early, taking a ceremonious leave
of the mate, and assuring him of their readiness to come and help if
he had any more trouble with his crew. He did not answer, but smiled
grimly, thinking that any trouble that he was likely to have would
probably come from quite a different direction, that is, from the
skipper.
Now began for the boys, who had indeed well deserved it, a really
first-class time. The mate and second mate having obtained the upper
hand of the crew, kept it by making them work, getting the ship in
apple-pie order after her long passage, and the boys were put upon all
the best jobs, working at whatever they could do that would teach them
to have confidence in themselves; while the usual scheme of things in
such ships was reversed, that is, all the dirty, and what is generally
known as menial work, instead of being put upon the boys, was done by
the men.
If this should seem unfair to any reader, I would beg to remind him
that these lads, having paid liberally for the privilege of being
taught their profession, had no business to be placed in the position
of lackeys to the men, who are always ready to shift all unpleasant
work upon boys’ shoulders, whether they are premium apprentices or not.
But their present position was entirely due to their own efforts, and
the extraordinary condition of affairs on board. Moreover, although
neither of the officers dared go ashore, knowing the simmering state
of revolt among the men, they gave the boys every chance to do so, and
thus the lads got a knowledge of boat-handling which is so very useful
to a sailor.
But this I am sorry to say had its evil side, for the two seniors
having had experience of shore-going pastimes on the previous voyage,
when they were under no sort of supervision, took advantage of their
liberty to introduce Frank to the dubious delights of Scotch whisky,
for which he was proud to pay as being the only possessor of cash in
the house. And it was curious to see how the shirker Harry, who, as
we have seen, was almost useless on board, became when on shore quite
a swaggering tar, and put on so many frills that it became necessary
to take him down a few pegs and threaten to stop him from coming
ashore at all by reporting his behaviour to the mate. This he resented
exceedingly, and sulked a good deal, but little was thought of that
until, one evening when the boys had been allowed to run ashore as
usual, Harry was missing.
Now they had all four mixed freely with the natives; had visited
their houses, and taken part in some very curious and unconventional
proceedings which need not be particularised, except by the general
statement that these boys were growing into men very fast. Yet as far
as was known by Frank and the two seniors, Harry had never dreamed of
desertion; in fact the idea, when first mooted by Williams, was scouted
by the other two as absurd. However, after scouring the town and
visiting all their accustomed haunts until they were ready to drop from
fatigue, they were compelled to return to the ship without him.
They met the mate at the gangway, and the first thing he said was,
“This is the last time you go ashore here with my leave, you ungrateful
young swine. It’s always the way. Be easy, and you get imposed on. But
where’s Harry?”
There was a dead silence for a few moments, the lads feeling as if they
could hear their hearts beat.
“D’ye hear me?” roared the mate, now thoroughly alarmed.
Frank faltered out, “We don’t know, sir, we couldn’t find him. We’ve
hunted everywhere we could think of, and that’s what made us so late.”
As soon as the dread truth soaked into the mate’s brain, his fury was
terrible to witness. He was almost insane at the thought that after
all his care in dealing with his worthless skipper, and his mastery
over the very difficult circumstances of his position, this calamity
should fall upon him, Harry being the son of a particular friend of the
owners’, who had especially commended him to the mate’s care. Matters
were all the more complicated, in that the skipper had not been near
the ship since he had gone ashore the morning after her arrival, and
although this was nothing less than criminal on his part, it would not
in any way absolve the mate for losing the boy.
In vain did the second mate try and comfort him, pointing out how
absolutely free from blame he was except in the one detail of letting
the boys run ashore for an hour. But the poor fellow could not pardon
himself, and sleep being an impossibility, he sat and suffered through
the night.
About 3 A.M., when he had arrived at that stage of sleeplessness when
the idea of ever having slept seems ridiculous, and had turned over in
his mind a thousand schemes for recovering his lost apprentice and had
rejected them all as useless, he thought he heard a sound on deck.
Now there is no place so quiet as a ship at anchor in a snug harbour
on a calm night, and there is no place where an unwonted sound is so
easily heard. Consequently the mate fairly bristled with apprehension,
and as he lay in his bunk he was like a cat ready to pounce. Then he
saw a gleam of light flash across the cabin, and in a moment he was
out of his bunk, his trusty revolver clutched in his right hand, and
peering out of the pitchy dark of his cabin he saw the forms of three
men in the pale glimmer of the young moonlight stealing across the
saloon deck. Without a moment’s hesitation he raised his revolver and
fired three shots in quick succession, the noise and stench of the
exploding powder filling the narrow space almost to suffocation.
There were many confused noises of pain, of rage, and of fear; but Mr.
Jenkins calmly retreated to his room, and lit the dark lantern which
all ship’s officers possess, and emerging once more from his cabin
met the second mate, also with his lantern and weapon in hand. Their
greetings were curt, and their investigations resulted in finding two
badly wounded men of the crew, the big German before mentioned, and an
Irish-American of whom I have hitherto said nothing.
These culprits were too frightened and weak from loss of blood to say
anything in reply to questions, so leaving them for a while the two
officers hurried on deck, finding no one there; but the second mate
rushed to the stern, remembering that the boat had been passed there
instead of being hoisted, and flashing his lantern down at her, saw
two cowering figures in her stern-sheets completely demoralised with
fright. He sternly bade them come up, emphasising his readiness and
willingness to shoot if they did not.
Tremblingly they answered, “Ay, ay, sir, we’ll come up; don’t shoot,
for God’s sake,” and began to haul the boat alongside. They mounted the
ladder and began to scurry forward, when the second mate stopped them
and bade them carry their shipmates with them, the mate having in the
meantime roughly improvised a couple of tourniquets for their wounds,
and stopped the bleeding therefrom.
They did so very humbly and carefully, and when they had gone the mate
said solemnly, “Looky here, Cope, I believe if it hadn’t been for those
blessed boys you and I would have had our throats cut to-night. I’ve
heard say that it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, but I feel
sure that we owe our lives to the misfortune of that infernal young
scalawag Carter having chosen to-night to run away. I don’t care now.
I feel regularly happy. And if I only had a drop of something stronger
than this pump grog I would celebrate.”
“Yes, an’ it would go to your head like fire,” said the second mate.
“Be thankful, man, that they can’t say that about us. I like my tot as
well as the next man, but I’m bound to say that when there’s trouble
about I want to be able to say there wasn’t any grog in it, anyhow. Now
go and turn in, and I’ll keep watch until daylight. I’ve had a good
sleep, while you must be regularly fagged out.”
“Thankee, Cope, I will,” replied the mate, “but keep your eyes skinned
for those devils in case they are up to mischief again.”
“All right, sir,” rejoined the second mate, “I’ll keep my lamps trimmed
for them. But you try and get some sleep.”
So the mate went to his bunk and fell instantly into a sound sleep,
while Mr. Cope paced the deck and watched the gentle night fade away
and take on the glory of the dawn, but never for a moment did he relax
his vigilant watch on the fore end of the ship. And as he pondered over
the events of the voyage so far, he felt sad to think how the mate, who
was one of the kindest and best-natured fellows alive, should have been
driven by untoward circumstances to become in the eyes of some of his
fellow-men a veritable tyrant, enforcing his will by the use of deadly
weapons.
But he was a healthy-minded young man, and soon shook off any morbid
feelings that the hour and the reaction pressed upon him, and so fully
did he occupy the time with these various mental exercises, that it
gave him quite a start to hear the cook call out “Coffee.” He slipped
below and warned the steward not to awaken the mate. Then having
swallowed his refreshing draught, he went forward and had a quiet chat
with the boys as to the possibilities of Harry being found, but without
much hope of anything being done.
Then a man from forward approached and diffidently said that the
two wounded men were in a high fever, and evidently very ill. This
immediately reminded Cope of his first duty, and he went and hoisted an
urgent signal for a doctor and the police, feeling sure that it would
be just what Mr. Jenkins would have done.
Then, having started such of the hands as were capable of working to
wash decks, he went and called his superior and informed him of what
he had done, being delighted to hear in return that in Mr. Jenkins’
opinion he had done just right. In half-an-hour a police-boat was seen
coming off with the doctor on board. She was soon alongside and the
officer in charge put in possession of the facts. The doctor and the
second mate went forward to the forecastle, and for the next hour that
gloomy chamber bore no bad resemblance to a dirty hospital ward, while
the groans of the sufferers were pitiable to hear.
At the same time the police-officer was in nowise astonished to hear
that the mate had not seen his commander since the day after their
arrival, and told Mr. Jenkins that the consignee of the cargo had
seriously debated the question of putting him on board his ship by
force, and daring him to come ashore again. The officer said, moreover,
that from the capers the skipper had been cutting, it was certain
that he must have spent a good deal of money or accumulated a heavy
debt, which would certainly have to be liquidated before the vessel’s
departure. He, moreover, promised to leave no stone unturned to secure
the restoration of the runaway apprentice, but owned that in a port
like Levuka, where there were so many schooners popping in and out, it
would be difficult indeed to catch him if he had chosen to go to sea.
Ashore, he could almost guarantee his being caught. And with this scant
comfort Mr. Jenkins had to be content.
Presently the doctor reappeared, looking as became a man who had
done a good day’s work. He said, “Well, Mr. Mate, you’ve given those
fellows something to remember you by, and they won’t forget me in a
hurry either. My word, but they did squimmidge. Never mind, it’s all
over now, and they are doin’ as well as can be expected. Here are the
pills,” and he held out two small bullets. “And now, Mr. Mate, just a
toothful of whisky or squareface or anything of that nature, and I’ll
absence myself chop chop. I’ve got a lot of grousing beggars ashore
waiting for me who’ll swear I’ve been neglectin’ them on purpose.”
“So sorry, doctor,” replied the mate, “but there isn’t so much as a
smell of firewater aboard this ship. I had to give it all a passage
coming out, or I’m blessed if I think we should have got here at all.”
“Oho,” the doctor laughed, “that’s the explanation, is it? Well, Mr.
Mate, you have my sympathy. But I’m not surprised, judgin’ from the way
your jovial skipper’s been making Rome howl since he came ashore. He’s
one of my patients now, you may like to know. I’m doin’ my best to save
him from a fit of the rats, but I don’t know how it will turn out, I’m
sure. He’s very shaky. Come on, inspector.”
“I think not, Doc,” answered the police-officer. “I’d better stay
aboard here and let Mr. Jenkins go ashore and see his skipper. He’s got
a report to make that won’t keep, and from what I can see of things,
the ship won’t suffer from my presence here until he comes back.”
And then, while the mate bent his shore-going rig, the police-officer
held an earnest colloquy with his chief boatman as to the disappearance
of Harry, making arrangements for a thorough scouring of the
countryside for the foolish lad.
Five minutes afterwards the mate was hurrying shoreward, while, to
a casual observer, nothing unusual was taking place on board the
barque. The available men and the lads were busy about their usual
duties getting the vessel ready for sea, her Fiji cargo having been
discharged, and nothing remaining to be done but prepare for the
resumption of the voyage.
Frank and his two chums went about their work with a penitential air,
the sense of disaster impending, although they repeatedly assured
themselves that they were in no way to blame for the loss of their
berthmate. In addition, they were puzzled beyond measure at the
extraordinary events which had taken place during the night, entirely
outside their knowledge. They had slept so soundly that no item of the
fray had reached them, although if it had they would have been scarcely
surprised, for by this time all three of them, Frank especially, had
grown to regard such events as quite within the range of any day’s
happenings, so speedily do we all become accustomed to our surroundings.
It was nearly noon before the mate returned, looking triumphant, like
a man who had overcome all his difficulties. It appeared he had met
the skipper in the presence of the ship’s agent, and had completely
justified himself in the latter gentleman’s eyes, and also in the
opinion of the authorities, who, with a common sense which may be
looked for in vain in older countries, considered that he had acted
extremely well, and told him so.
The episode of the boy Harry’s loss had been lightly glossed over as a
thing that boys were prone to, and the mate completely exonerated. No
wonder he was exultant, and if occasionally he wondered how he should
meet the father of the lad upon his return home, he consoled himself by
remembering that the skipper would have to answer for it first.
So things resumed their normal course on board, except for the two
wounded men in the forecastle, who were indeed in evil case, full of
pain and the consciousness of frustrated designs. Otherwise everything
went on just as usual. It does, you know, on board ship as well as on
shore. There must indeed be an utter break-up, an entire disintegration
of all things when the ordinary work of getting meals goes wrong.
Whoever mutinies or fights or gets killed, the cook and steward keep
busy with their pots and kettles, and the grub comes up to time whether
there is anybody to partake of it or not. It is the necessities of life
which bind our doings up, not the great heroic deeds. I have seen a
cook rise calmly and go to his galley at 5 A.M. to prepare coffee when
everybody else in the ship except the steward felt certain that she
would not live through another watch. And we were all so glad of that
coffee, although we did not praise the cook.
The next morning brought the skipper on board in charge of an official
who said that if the ship was ready for sea it would be well if she
went at once. To which the mate was most agreeable, only making
slight demur on the ground that he was two hands short. That, said the
official, he had considered and had brought with him four Hawaiian
Kanakas, well-drilled seamen who would work their passage to Honolulu
with great pleasure.
In respect of the missing boy, the official gravely said he was very
sorry, but not a trace of him could be found, and the ship could not be
delayed while a fruitless search was being made for a youngster who, by
all accounts, was a wastrel who would never be any good. With this the
mate was fain to be content, and, having seen the skipper comfortably
bestowed in his bunk, with the prospect of an acute attack of delirium
tremens before him, Mr. Jenkins returned on deck and gave orders to man
the windlass, the wind being very kindly for departure.
The anchor came up easily, the four Kanakas being stalwart, cheery
fellows, who gave all the strength they had to the work, and paid no
heed to the lowering looks of the white men who unwillingly toiled with
them. And in an hour the _Sealark_ had her white wings spread again for
the long sea-road to the Sandwich Islands, where she was to discharge
the remainder of her cargo.
It happened to be Frank’s trick at the wheel as the ship sped away from
the land, and do what he would he felt unable to help being sorry to
put to sea again. Having cultivated the ability common among sailors of
detaching his mind entirely from the business of steering, which he did
all the more perfectly because mechanically, he dwelt mentally upon
all the strange scenes he had witnessed in the semi-savage town they
were just leaving. Then he thought of Harry, the misguided youngster
who had taken a step which would probably break a fond parent’s heart,
who had thus flung away as a dirty rag all his prospects, and proved
his utter inability to understand the meaning of life.
This led him to think of his own dear folks at home, and to remember
with a start that it was now six months since he had heard anything of
them. Whether it was the soft influence of parting from the first port
he had ever visited, with all its varied and pleasant associations, he
did not know, but as he thought of home he felt curiously choky and
unhappy, while his eyes grew dim with tears.
He was quite lost to all his surroundings on the narrow quarter-deck,
the white sails above him, and the resplendent sea and sky, when,
with a sudden tightening sensation at his waist and a cold chill over
his scalp, he became aware of the skipper standing before him with an
awful face. The glaring eyes protruded from between swollen, reddened
lids, the cheeks looked like slabs of diseased meat where they were not
overgrown with weedy hair, and from between the thick purple lips came
a breath so foul that quite involuntarily Frank turned his head away.
A voice as harsh and unnatural as a dead man’s might be imagined to
sound said, “Boy, what are all these devils doin’ aft here? You’re
a devil too, ain’t you? I’d kill you if I could, but I can’t kill
the devil, I can’t kill the devil. Ah, spare me, spare me,” and the
miserable man sank down on his knees muttering terrible things which,
fortunately, Frank did not understand.
Of course Frank was frightened, but I like to remember that he kept on
steering even though his heart was bumping against his ribs as if it
would break through. Then he lifted his voice and yelled at its utmost
pitch, “Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Cope, come aft, the captain’s mad!”
Immediately the poor demented creature sprang to his feet and flew at
Frank, who, agile as a monkey, vaulted over the wheel-box and seized
the wheel on the other side, still shouting lustily and keeping a keen
eye on the maniac, who now, by some sudden twist in his poor brain,
dived under the grating, and with a horrid chuckling laugh began
playing with the gear by which the rudder was moved.
Fortunately by this time Frank’s cries had been heard, and the two
officers, hurrying aft with eager inquiry, flung themselves upon the
skipper and dragged him below. There they secured him so safely that,
strive as he would, he could not get loose again. Then, with the
versatility of sailors, they returned to their work of getting the
anchors and cables secured and the ship prepared for open sea. All the
attention they had paid to Frank was comprised in the simple question
Mr. Cope put to him, “Did he do anything to you?” And when Frank
answered “No, sir,” he expressed his satisfaction by a curt nod.
But Frank had received a shock that left him shivering as if from
cold. It was far too heavy a strain to put upon a lad of his age. And
it is all the more satisfactory to be able to record that he stood it
successfully and still steered the ship as straightly as before. Yet
he did not at all realise what was the matter with the skipper, until
being relieved he went forward to his berth, and in answer to the eager
questioning of Johnson, told him of all that had happened, with as much
of the skipper’s conversation as he was able to recall.
“Ah,” said Johnson, wagging his head wisely, “the old swine is paying
for his fling in Levuka. He’s got what the Yanks call snakes in his
boots, and serve him jolly well right too.”
“Snakes in his boots!” replied Frank in a horrified tone; “whatever do
you mean?”
“Why, what the doctors call delirium tremens,” said Johnson
sententiously. “When a man has been drinkin’ heavy for a long time he
gets a fit of madness, sees things that ain’t there, mostly snakes,
and spiders, and rats crawling all about where he is, and carries on
something shockin’.”
“Oh dear, oh dear!” shudderingly rejoined Frank. “I wonder you can talk
about it like that. What a frightful thing. I feel half mad thinking
of it. And if you could have seen his face! It frightened me almost to
death. If that’s the fruits of drunkenness, I’ll never touch another
drop of the beastly stuff as long as ever I live.”
“Good boy,” sneered Williams, who had just come in, “that’s what they
call in the books, the effect of a horrible example. But who’s going
to be such a juggins as to get like that? Not me, anyhow. I’m going to
have my grog and enjoy myself.”
Frank didn’t see his way to any reply, so he remained silent with the
skipper’s awful face in his mind’s eye.
These unpleasantnesses, however, did not long affect the lads, who
had far too many objects of interest around them to allow them to
dwell upon the troubles of other people. They were now sailing through
perhaps the most romantic and beautiful sea in the world, their route
being studded with lovely islands, the sea swarming with fish, the air
joyful with birds. They had, moreover, frequent visits from passing
canoes, for the natives of those islands, confident in the quietude of
their environing seas, think nothing of journeying a couple of hundred
miles or so in craft that civilised men would hardly care to cross a
narrow river in.
It was great fun to see the four jovial Hawaiians exchanging
salutations with these wanderers, and greater fun still to learn from
the dusky mariners how to snare the many fish that gambolled about them
by day and by night. They, of course, thought nothing of the tremendous
strain upon the mate of having to navigate the ship amidst that maze
of islands, having the entire responsibility thrown upon him without
any recompense or compensating circumstances. And all the while the man
who was receiving pay for this onerous work was lying helpless below,
having gotten over the worst of his madness, and was now slowly working
his way back again to complete health under the careful attention of
the man to whom he had behaved in so shameful a manner.
But taking it all round there was a peaceful, happy time for everybody.
The men forrard, having lost the two malcontents, had settled down to
their work in good shape, and finding that the Kanakas were rattling
good seamen at all such work as handling sails, steering, and keeping
look-out (at this last their eyes were like twin telescopes), besides
being ever good-natured and willing, they chummed up with them
splendidly.
Then the food was good, for Mr. Jenkins had laid in a good supply of
vegetables and fruit, having been empowered to do so by the consignee,
after that gentleman had found out how helpless to attend to business
the skipper was. And to crown all, the weather was persistently fine,
even delightful, while the ship, owing to the way in which Mr. Jenkins
had kept the hands at work in harbour, was in splendid trim, working
easier than she had ever worked before during that passage. So day
by day slipped away, Frank feeling more and more satisfied with his
lot, putting on strength both of body and mind, and accumulating
unconsciously a store of reserve force against the time when it should
be needed in other and stormier scenes.
At last, when they had cleared the Phoenix Islands and had a clear
long stretch before them up to the Sandwich group, the skipper made his
appearance on deck, a mere shadow of a man, looking as if he had still
one foot in the grave. He was treated with grave and distant courtesy
by the officers, but took no part whatever in the working of the ship.
But neither did he make any admission of his wrong-doing or appear at
all grateful for the faithful service bestowed upon the ship by those
under him, service which had saved her from disaster and everybody on
board from innumerable miseries.
As an instance of the depths to which his neglect had dragged him, it
was not until they had been out a fortnight from Levuka that the mate
came forward one morning to the boys’ house and handed to each of them
a letter which he said the captain had found among his papers, letters
which had been waiting in Levuka for the ship’s arrival, and had thus
been kept from their rightful owners.
This sounds almost incredible, but I know of a case in a ship upon
which I served where the skipper actually destroyed in a drunken fit
all the letters for the crew which he had received in Rangoon, and
scoffingly said that his action “would save ’em a lot of trouble; what
did they want with letters?”
Of course Frank could not help feeling indignant at this shameful
treatment, but the joy of thus receiving unexpectedly in open sea a
budget of news from his loved ones was so great that he speedily forgot
the offence and lay upon the main hatch in the beautiful sunshine (it
was Sunday afternoon and nothing was a-doing), soaking his soul in the
outpourings of love from that far-away home circle.
How he regretted now the curt letter he had sent home from Levuka,
for, smarting under a sense of neglect, he had merely told them that
he was well and liked the sea, and that he hoped the voyage would be a
long one, thinking that they had forgotten all about him. And now here
was the proof of their never-ceasing thought of him. As he realised
how great a sin that drunkard aft had committed against him and them,
he felt beside himself with rage, the rage of the budding man, and he
rushed to his bunk, got out his writing materials, and in his first
fury wrote such a letter to his people as he had never dreamed himself
capable of putting on paper.
And still the good ship glided on o’er sunny seas ’neath glowing skies,
until the glorious panorama of Oahu burst into view at the break of a
golden morning, and Frank wondered that the thrill he felt at the sight
of Kandavu would not come again. Speedily and in seaman-like fashion
the _Sealark_ was brought to her moorings, the anchor rattled down,
she was safe in port once more, and--the credit of it all went to the
creature who had been a positive danger to her instead of any help
whatever. This is one of the grim ironies of sea life, but fortunately
did not touch Frank’s mind; although he knew it, he did not feel it,
and it was well.
Now Honolulu is a far more advanced port than Levuka. But there are
many opportunities for debauchery, and this doubtless Captain Swainson
well knew as he rigged himself out in his best clothes and prepared to
leave his ship again.
But Mr. Jenkins was waiting for him as he came on deck with the jovial
agent by his side, to whom the skipper had been unreeling a lurid
yarn about the difficulties he had overcome of worthless officers and
mutinous crew.
“I want a word with you before you go ashore, Captain Swainson,” said
the mate in grim, dry tones.
“Oh, I can’t stop now,” hastily replied the skipper. “Can’t you see I’m
busy? And the agent’s waiting too. I’ll see you later on in the day.
Get the----”
But he got no farther, for the mate, standing squarely in front of him,
said--
“If you don’t care to listen to what I’ve got to say quietly, and while
you are sober, I shall say it before such listeners as you will tremble
to see. I’ve had enough of your capers, and I’ll have no more.”
“Now look here, Mr. Mate,” interrupted the agent, “this won’t do, you
know. You mustn’t behave like this. You forget yourself.”
The mate’s blood grew hot. But he restrained himself with a mighty
effort, and answered quietly--
“Oh no, I don’t, sir. I forget nothing. But that man there was drunk
all the time the ship was in Levuka, and mad with the horrors half the
way here, and if he’s going on the same way in Honolulu, I’m going to
stop him, that’s all, if there’s any use in a British consul.”
The skipper looked at the agent in helpless fashion, and the agent,
putting on a big official tone, said, “Now, Mr. Mate----”
But Mr. Jenkins stopped him, and said in a tone that carried
conviction--
“Now, Mr. Agent, I have nothing to say to you at all. Only if Captain
Swainson isn’t on board this ship to-morrow attending to his duty, it
will be my business to know why, and the telegraph office is as free
to me as to anybody else. That’s all I’ve got to say; and now I’ve my
duties to attend to, and I wish you good day.”
And he turned on his heel, and left the pair to digest his words.
They got into a boat and went ashore, wondering what the outcome
would be, while the mate’s orders flew like hail, and the ship was
rapidly put in harbour trim, and the discharging gear got ready for
transhipment of cargo. In this way the day passed rapidly, and Frank
hardly had time to note the beauties of the island harbour wherein
they lay until knock-off time, when the gentle native folk with soft
caressing words came on board, bringing loads of gifts as they called
them, but really gifts that called for a far greater return.
The four Hawaiians were now in their element among their fellows, and
full of glee at being home again. They repaid with rich interest the
kindly treatment they had received, and introduced the visitors with
rapid outpourings of broken English. There was, however, one serious
bar to any extended trade--no one had any money. Frank’s little store
had all been spent in Levuka, and the sailors had not received a penny,
although they had now nearly seven months’ wages due, and by unwritten
ship law were entitled to liberty and a month’s wages. This, however,
they could not get from the mate, they knew; and so they did not ask,
hoping to get at the skipper some time when he was on board.
Now the mate’s spirited protest had much impressed the agent, who was
a keen tradesman, and without unduly pressing the skipper, he made it
clear to him that it would be well to go slow, in case the mate should
“behave ugly,” as he put it. And so he kept the skipper well in hand,
allowing him to have only a gentle fling, and seeing him depart from
the beach that night for his ship only partially drunk, and without any
means of strengthening the hold the liquor had got upon him. The mate
was on deck when he came, and duly noted his condition, but said not
a word. And the skipper reeled to his bunk, his head all awhirl with
projects for the mate’s discomfiture, but saying nothing at all.