INTRODUCES AMERICANS
Whew! but that was a long chapter! And, moreover, I feel that it was
far too full of creepy things. I don’t want you to think that those
boys had no fun, only I get so full of the hard side of things when I
remember how little of the soft came my way at sea, that I commit the
bad mistake of forgetting the joys of life. Believe me, in spite of
the seriousness of the situation on board the _Sealark_, there were
times in the evenings when the laughter of those boys and the fellows
forrard was simply uproarious, partly because they were well fed and
fully employed, but principally because of the four Hawaiian seamen,
who were, like most of their race, just bubbling over with happiness,
simply because they were alive. It is perhaps a poor sense of humour
that makes us laugh at mistakes in language, absurd perversions of
speech, but it argues, I think, a beautiful mind, when those whom we
laugh at, being full of intelligence, will take no offence, but improve
the occasion, in order that more fun may result. Already I am beginning
to feel my space run short, but I really must quote one little snatch
of conversation which Frank held with Oonee, one of the Hawaiians,
giving it as near as possible verbatim.
_Frank._ “You was once a cannibal, wasn’t you?”
_Oonee._ “No, Falankee, not me. My father, he eatee plenty mans.”
_Frank._ “Now look here, Oonee, d’you mean to tell me that you’ve never
had a steak off a man?”
_Oonee._ “Yes, Falankee, I tell you taloo (true). But looka. My
Baluther, he go livee ’nother islan’. Velly bad man there. I can’t
forget (remember) what you call ’im. One time mishnally come. Evelly
body glad, because no fight longa time so no eata longa pig. Kanaka
call man longa pig when him bake. Take the mishnally ’way velly quick,
cut ’im neck, put ’im in Kanaka oven all same pig. Bimeby done, all
hands come make feast. No knife, no follok, every man pull off bit. Bit
hat, bit coat, bit boot, too much plenty velly hard. Bimeby one man he
say, ‘Mishnally no good ki ki, he makee eatee some nutting, no good
belong spoil ’im. Flow ’im ’way.’”
This Oonee was a humorist of the first water, and very proud of his
English-speaking abilities. A favourite yarn of his was how once being
adrift in Hobart Town when on leave from a whaler, he stopped outside
of a shop, and inquired of a strangely-attired gentleman who was
standing there the way to his ship. The gentleman, who happened to be a
full-length Highlander, used as a tobacconist sign, made no response,
and to quote Oonee, “Him no say nutting, no look me, no more. Me touch
’im, feel all same wood, me flightened ’im; lun ’way. I no savvy what
thing man that belong.”
But I know young people are uneasy with dialect, and so I must
discontinue giving Oonee’s remarks, only adding that in ability
and industry he was as prominent as he was in good-humour and wit.
Fortunately for everybody, I think, the Hawaiian seamen were not
anxious to terminate their engagement. They had in some mysterious way
grown to like the ship and her crew (the old man they knew nothing
about, of course, looking upon him much as a schoolboy looks upon
_x_ on his first introduction to algebra). All they wanted was to be
allowed ashore each night after knock-off time; and this was readily
granted them, on their promise to return in time for work in the
morning, which promise was always faithfully kept.
But this preferential treatment was deeply resented by the rest of
the foremast hands, who indeed had some right to feel aggrieved, not
having had any liberty now for the best part of a year. When, however,
they came aft and laid their grievances before the mate, he grimly
referred them to the skipper, who was as difficult to see as a monarch.
Thoroughly frightened by the mate’s determined attitude, he had slept
on board every night and confined his drinking principally to his own
cabin, and although he entertained a good many keen-looking visitors,
he was hardly ever seen on deck. Therefore when the steward brought him
word one Sunday morning that the men wished to see him, he immediately
fell into what is vulgarly known as a blue funk. He could not consult
with the mate, who he felt sure sent the men to him, and he felt as if
he dared not meet the men, knowing very well what they wanted. At last
screwing up his courage to the sticking-point, he ordered the steward
to request Mr. Jenkins to step down and see him, and when the mate came
to remain handy in case of accidents.
Down came the mate, making an almost involuntary wry face as he passed
into the acrid atmosphere of the skipper’s state-room from the pure air
above.
“You sent for me, sir?” he said, and waited.
“Ye-e-s, Mr. Jenkins,” stammered the skipper, “I want you to find out
what the men want. I--I--I’m not well enough to come on deck just yet.”
“What they want, sir, and what I don’t see how they can be refused, is
some liberty and money. May I remind you that they have been nearly
eight months on board and have had no liberty yet?”
“Well,” answered the skipper petulantly, “let ’em go, let ’em go, but
I’ve got no money for ’em. What do they mean by coming worrying me for
money on the Sabbath? They ought to know better.”
The mate stood looking grimly down at the pitiful creature before him
in silence for a few moments, and then said, “Do you wish me to convey
this to the men then, that they go on leave to-day, but you can give
them no money, and it being Sunday you can’t get any?”
“Yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it, do ’em good. If I gave ’em money
they’d only spend it in drink like all the rest of the silly sailors.
Thank you, Mr. Jenkins, I think I’ll get a little rest now,” and much
relieved he snoodled down under the blankets again. But had he seen and
been able to appreciate the bitter scorn and hatred in the mate’s face
as he turned away, I do not think he would have felt so comfortable.
On deck the mate found the crew awaiting him. Without any preliminary
he repeated the skipper’s message, looking straight at the men as
he did so. And when they began to growl he said quietly, “Now go
forrard and do your growling, I’ve given you the skipper’s words.
Any complaints you have, make them to him when you meet him. In the
meantime I am responsible for the discipline of the ship, and I’m going
to maintain it.”
They, knowing him, took the hint and slouched forrard, muttering under
their breath. But things were not as bad as they had feared, and the
Kanaka seamen who manned the boat to take them ashore behaved like the
generous kindly souls they all are, and the result was that those ten
men (Hansen didn’t go, preferring to spend the day with his pupils) had
as good a time, nay, better, than they would have enjoyed with their
pockets full of money.
But Frank and his chums dared not again ask Mr. Jenkins for leave, for
the second mate had informed them privately that so deeply had the
desertion of Harry Carter troubled the mate that he had declared that
as far as he was personally concerned no permission should again be
granted to the boys to go ashore until the ship returned to England,
which meant, of course, that they must get leave from the skipper
himself, or not at all. So, as they felt unable to approach the
skipper, their prospect of seeing anything of the shore except from the
ship’s decks looked remarkably small.
However, like sensible lads they made the best of their position, and
having taken to fishing under the guidance of Oonee, they managed with
that and swimming, and skylarking with the jolly natives who came on
board, to pass the time very happily. More than that, their studies,
which all three of them were now going in for with the greatest
interest under the watchful care of Hansen, absorbed a good deal of
their time, and had such good results that I doubt if any youngsters of
their sea time could have compared with them in their working knowledge
of their profession.
Meanwhile the armed neutrality which still existed between the skipper
and his officers showed no signs of being improved into cordiality,
and although the captain spent all his days ashore, he never again
dared to remain on shore at night, being afraid of what the mate would
do to carry out his threat. Unfortunately the skipper’s drinking had
been going on worse than ever, and stray reports occasionally reached
the mate as to the way in which the old man had been rioting ashore,
reports which he received with a shrug of the shoulders as who should
say, “Well, it doesn’t concern me.”
Whether he would have taken any action on this account I do not know,
but one morning when the ship was all but ready for sea, he received a
visit from the vice-consul, who, after introducing himself, told Mr.
Jenkins that his errand was about the behaviour of the captain, which
was causing quite a scandal ashore, in a place where they were not at
all thin-skinned either.
The mate listened gravely, and then calling the second mate as a
witness, gave the vice-consul a brief account of the happenings since
the ship had left home. He wound up by saying that he was now perfectly
comfortable and wished only that things might be left to take their
course, for he could take care of himself.
“Well, Mr. Jenkins,” said the vice-consul, “I happen to know that you
are going on from here to ’Frisco, and whether you have ever been to
that grand city or not before, I warn you to keep your eyes peeled, for
if Captain Swainson wants to do you an ill turn he has only got to put
up the price. If I were you I wouldn’t go ashore at all there, and I
would keep a bright look-out on board too. Of course you’ll lose all
your crew, the old man has been bragging about that, but you probably
would anyhow. Now I’ll go home and make a note of things. I expect I
shall need it before very long. In the meantime I wish you the best of
luck and a safe departure from ’Frisco, the worst place for sailormen
in the world. Good-bye.”
As soon as he had gone the two officers held a colloquy, in which they
decided that things were not going so bad, that nothing the vice-consul
had said was surprising, and that even if he had a little axe of his
own to grind they had given him no hand to use against them.
Their conference was interrupted by Frank, who came down into the cabin
and said, “The men are all aft and say they want to speak to you, sir;
they seem perfectly civil and quiet. I think it’s about their liberty.”
“All right, Frank, thank you, I’ll be up directly; go and tell them so.”
And with that the mate and second mate departed up the after-cabin
companion, so that they might look down upon the men from the height
of the poop. As soon as they had reached that vantage place they found
all hands except the Kanakas awaiting them. The mate said quietly, “Now
then, men, what is it you want of me?”
The foremost replied quite respectfully, “We only want to ask you, sir,
if you know anything about our getting some money and a liberty day.
We’re sorry to bother you, sir, but we can’t get to see the skipper,
and so we had to come and ask you.”
“Very well, men,” replied the mate, “you don’t want me to tell you
that I’ve got nothing to do with your getting money or liberty; all I
can say is that when the captain comes on board to-night, I’ll tell
him about it, and you’ll see him in the morning before he goes ashore
again.”
“Thankye, sir,” they responded, and went back to work quite cheerfully,
so great was the respect and confidence that they had for and in the
man that once they were ready to kill. Of course the boys, having heard
all that had passed, held their consultation too, and determined that
when the men had done with the captain they would have a slap at him,
as Williams irreverently put it. But who could reverence such a man?
Sure enough when the skipper came on board that night Mr. Jenkins
awaited him and told him of the men’s request; but he was too far gone
in liquor to attend to anything that night. In the morning, though,
the mate waited on him before breakfast and told him that the men were
waiting to see him about liberty and money. He would have burst into a
torrent of oaths and threats, but he was in mortal terror of his chief
officer, and after vainly trying to make excuses for not meeting the
men, at last consented, and rising, came on deck.
They were waiting for him, and gave in their request civilly. He,
foolish man, began to bluster, but the men feeling that they had right
on their side and that they would not now have the officers to reckon
with, met his threats with equally high words, saying that if he did
not give them their due, they refused to do any more. At which he
laughed, and, turning on his heel, gave Mr. Jenkins orders to hoist the
police-flag. This was at once done, and the men retreated forward and
began to pack their clothes, not caring for the consequences, after the
manner of sailors.
Then the mate, following the skipper as he returned to the cabin, said,
“Captain Swainson, I want to remind you that I have not yet had a run
ashore or any money from you, and whatever you choose to do in respect
of the men does not concern me.”
The skipper stared at him for a moment, and after struggling to keep
down the words he longed to utter, suddenly gasped out, “Oh, all right,
Mr. Jenkins, I s’pose you’ll have to go; but I haven’t got any money,
I’ll have to go ashore and get some. Order my boat at once.”
The mate smiled, and replied, “All right, sir; but won’t you wait for
the police-boat you’ve ordered?”
“Oh no,” said the skipper, “you can see to that; send all the beggars
ashore as mutineers. They refused to obey lawful commands, you know,
and you got my orders to lock ’em up.”
“No, sir,” firmly replied the mate, “that’s your affair, not mine, and
it’s for you to carry it out. I’ve nothing to do with it.”
This was too much for the skipper’s nerves, and he burst out, “I
believe you’re as bad as they are, and I’ll make you pay dear for
this----”
“Now stop right there, captain,” coolly replied the mate, “before you
say something you’ll be sorry for. You’re not drunk now, and you ought
to know what you are talking about. Anyhow, here comes the police-boat,
and you’ll have to make up your mind what you are going to do.”
Captain Swainson was now, however, to find out that the time for his
choice to be exercised had gone by: having started this ball rolling,
he could not stop it. The police-boat arrived, and the officer in
charge, a lathy, keen-looking American, swung himself on deck, casually
adjusted his revolver-belt, and advanced to where the captain and mate
stood, saying, “’Morning, gentlemen, what’s the trouble?”
“My men have refused duty, with a great deal of insulting language, and
they are, I think, quite dangerous. But I’ll give ’em one more chance
before I proceed to extremities with ’em. Call ’em aft, Mr. Jenkins.”
“Lay aft, all hands,” roared the mate instantly, and as the fellows
had been awaiting the summons all ready to go ashore, they came at
once, ranging themselves across the quarter-deck and looking up at the
police-officer, skipper, and mate, who stood on the poop looking down
upon them, while the policemen stood by the rail, regarding with grave
faces this gang of supposed mutineers.
“Now men,” quavered the skipper, “you see what you’ve done; here
are the police ready to arrest you all and take you to chokey, for
that’s what it means for every one of you if you don’t obey my lawful
commands. But if you will behave yourselves and go quietly to your
work, I’ll look over it this once.”
“Thank you for nothin’, cap’n,” said the leader of the men, “but we
think it’s us that ought to look over what you’ve done. We ain’t going
to talk about that now, though; we want to see the consul, and then
we’ll have our say. And we’ll see what he’s got to say to you.”
It was really pitiful to see the strait to which the skipper had
brought himself by his behaviour. He dared not send those men to the
consul with their tale, which would be corroborated he knew by his
officers. And he could not grant their demands, for he had no money
wherewith to do so. Had his record been clean, of course the men would
have been compelled to obey him or go to gaol, but now by his own act
he found himself disabled from taking advantage of the law that would
otherwise have been in his favour. So he stood there disgraced and
ashamed before all, and his miserably muddled brain rendered him unable
to think out a plan. The silence was dramatic, and lasted so long that
the police-officer lost his patience, and said in dry, incisive tones,
“Well, captain, what’s to be done? Does the men’s bluff hold good? and
what are you going to do, anyway; for I can’t be here doin’ nothin’?”
The wretched man, looking the very picture of pitiful irresolution,
said at last, “I think I’d better come ashore with you, officer, and
see what I can do; you might just try and scare ’em a bit, so’s to keep
’em quiet till I come back, you know.”
The officer looked at him for a moment as one boy looks at another,
who, after bragging a lot, runs away as soon as he’s faced. Then he
went a step forward and said, “Now then, men, the cap’n is going ashore
to see if he can find some way out of this tangle without gaoling you.
He says you’re a good lot of men, and he don’t want to punish you for a
mistake. But you must keep quiet, and go about your work until he comes
back, anyhow.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the men, and then their spokesman
replied, “That’s all right about turning to and keeping quiet, but what
about our liberty and money? Are we going to get it or not?”
Turning to the captain, the officer said, “Shall I tell ’em you’ll be
back this afternoon with a definite yes or no? It’s no use bluffing any
longer, you can’t keep it up, you know. And I don’t propose to stand
here shilly-shallying any longer.”
“All right,” said the skipper, “tell them that if they’ll turn to and
keep quiet, I’ll be back this afternoon and let ’em know definitely.”
Upon the officer conveying this to the men, they sulkily muttered “All
right,” and retreated to their den to get off their shore rigs, while
the skipper went below to get ready for the shore.
Then the officer, approaching the mate, began cheerfully, “Well, Mr.
Mate, there doesn’t seem much danger after all, does there?”
The mate was almost too disgusted to reply, but managed to say, “No,
officer, and there never has been except for folly. But I can’t talk
about it, if you’ll excuse me. I hope, however, that you don’t think
that either Mr. Cope here or myself has had anything to do with this
miserable business. We can handle this crowd all right, but--” and he
stopped dead.
“Yes, I guess that’s so, and there’s no explanation necessary. Where
are you bound from here; ’Frisco, I s’pose?”
“I really don’t know for certain,” replied the mate, “but I should
think so.”
“Ah well,” drawled the officer, “you’ll have no more trouble with the
crowd if you’re going there. You can’t keep ’em whether you want or
not. It’s a bad place, is the city of San Francisco, for the guileless
sailorman. He doesn’t get any show at all. Well, so-long; here’s the
old man comin’.”
Captain Swainson was about to leave the ship without saying a word to
the mate, when the latter, stepping up to him, said, “Before you go,
sir, I’d like you to arrange for my leave and some money. You do not
remember, perhaps, that I have been in the ship the best part of a
year, and have had neither holiday nor money.”
Oh, but it was an awful face the old man turned to him. But he only
said, “Very well, Mr. Jenkins, I’ll attend to it.” And went, a figure
of fun to all hands, more despised than detested.
There was no more trouble, but of course there was very little done.
In fact there was little routine work to do, for the ship had been
kept thoroughly overhauled, and was now quite ready for sea. To have
started other and regular work now would have been foolish, especially
in view of the uncertainty. And so the day passed quietly away until
the skipper returned at three o’clock, when everything tightened up
once more in expectation of events. He went straight to his cabin and
remained there, until the men, coming aft in a body, politely asked
Mr. Jenkins if they could see the skipper. And then he was bound to
come forward and tell them that he had arranged to give them a month’s
pay each on account of their wages, and that one watch could go next
morning and the other the morning after. He did not tell them, of
course, the terrible price he had been obliged to pay in order to get
this money, for that would have involved too many explanations as to
the way in which he had wasted his owners’ money in riotous living
both in Levuka and here. But he had evidently obtained sufficient for
everybody, for when the officers applied to him they each received what
they asked for, and even the lads got a little, as much as they could
have expected.
Thus peace was preserved for the time, and with the exception of a
little drunkenness among the crew, which was only to be expected under
the circumstances, nothing occurred to hinder the departure of the
ship four days afterwards for San Francisco. None of the lads had been
allowed ashore, and they felt very sore about it, but knowing whither
they were bound, they hoped to have what Johnson called a good fling
when they got there.
For the first time, I am sorry to say Frank began to feel a bit tired
of his position. It was one of those little eddies of reaction that
occur in the lives of every one of us, and often coinciding with some
other trouble, lets us in for some foolish headstrong action of which
we repent for the rest of our lives. Fortunately for him, beyond being
slack in his work and getting reprimanded by the mate several times, he
did not do anything very bad, and help came to him in a curious way.
When a week out from Honolulu, and about half-way to the Golden Gate,
a sudden and very violent gale sprang up almost without warning. It
found them all more or less unprepared for it, because they had been so
long enjoying the loveliest weather imaginable that they had forgotten
the very existence of such things as gales of wind. However, the good
seamanship and energy of the mate and second mate, coupled with the
really noble way in which the ship’s company worked, prevented any
serious damage to the ship herself, although, being in ballast, she was
so light that the handling and securing of her sails was a tremendous
task, occupying all hands all night; especially as she was very
short-handed, the Kanakas having left in Honolulu, and no other men
being available. As usual the skipper took no part in the affair, being
ill in his bunk, as he said, although it was exceedingly curious how he
revived from these mysterious illnesses as soon as the vessel got into
port.
A week after the gale the _Sealark_ sailed grandly into the beautiful
bay of San Francisco and anchored, and now Frank’s love of adventure
got a delightful morsel to feed upon, although it was one of those
abominable acts that disgrace any country and yet is only possible
in one, the country making the loudest boast of freedom of all. The
sails were hardly secured when a boat came alongside with a gang of as
truculent-looking villains in her as any one ever saw. Two out of the
six of them mounted the rail, and, stepping on deck, were met by the
mate, who inquired their business.
“Wall,” drawled the leader, “I guess my business ain’t with you n’r any
other lime-juicer mate, an’ if you’ve got any savvy you’ll just run
away an’ play an’ not try an’ fool around where men are.”
He had hardly uttered the words when Mr. Jenkins struck him full in the
face with his clenched fist, and down he went like a log. His comrade
whipped out a revolver, and shot the mate through the body. He fell as
the other villain rose, and with a horrible oath gave the mate’s body a
tremendous kick.
The three boys and the second mate ran to the assistance of their
officer, and were not molested or hindered by the ruffians who
swaggered forrard among the men. Meanwhile the wounded mate was laid in
his bunk, and the skipper called, who only said, “Dear me, what a man
to get into trouble. I’ll go ashore and send a doctor off. I hope he
isn’t seriously hurt.”
“Any help, to be of service, sir,” answered the second mate, “must be
very soon here, for Mr. Jenkins is wounded in a very bad place, just at
the pit of the stomach, and I’m afraid he’ll die if he doesn’t get help
soon.”
“Ah, very sad, indeed, very sad,” replied the skipper; “I’ll send some
one off to him,” and he sauntered back to his cabin, leaving the second
mate foaming with rage, but determined that his friend shouldn’t die if
care and attention could keep him alive. And with the help of Frank he
stripped the wounded man and succeeded in staunching the blood, also in
making him as comfortable as possible.
The visitors having no other interference to look for, rounded up the
crew like a flock of sheep, all except Hansen, who hid away, and did
not venture into the forecastle. First of all they told the old tale
about high wages, plenty of ships, &c., but when the crew evinced no
disposition to come at their call, they grew suddenly fierce. Long
domination over helpless seamen and immunity from justice for their
many crimes, at the hands of venal judges, had made them also very bold.
So they changed their tone, and the chief, producing a jug of whisky
with one hand, and a heavy revolver with the other, said, “Now, boys,
it’s like this. You don’t know what’s good for ye; I do. And I’m bound
to give it yer, if I have to bore a few holes in ye to make ye take it.
Get that dunnage of yours rolled up and put it in the boat an’ come
ashore into God’s own country where there’s thirty dollars a month
waitin’ for ye, an’ two months’ advance. And all the whisky, cigars,
and best grub in the world for nothin’ until ye get a ship. I’m in the
fy-lanthropy business for keeps, I am. But if ye won’t have kindness
shown ye, ye’ve got to suffer, no question ’bout that.”
His little harangue, coupled with the look of the pistol and the
bottle, had an immediate effect. The bottle, or jug, as they called it,
was passed round, and almost directly you would have thought they were
all going ashore to a picnic, they seemed so uproariously gay. And yet
they thought piteously of the seven months’ hard-earned money they were
leaving behind. But they dared not bemoan themselves, and in a very
short time had all been cleared out of the ship by as absolute an act
of piracy and man-stealing as ever disgraced humanity. We may as well
finish with them at once; in forty-eight hours the whole of them had
been shipped away, with two months’ pay in advance in the hands of the
scoundrels who had stolen them, and a substantial sum had been paid in
“blood money” for each of them to boot.
So precipitate had been their departure that the skipper had not gone
until they reached the shore. True, he had been very deliberate, for
he was enjoying the little episode in which his mate had been such a
sufferer. It was, he felt, judgment on that impetuous officer for his
ill-behaviour to him, the captain, on certain occasions, and he felt
quite pleased about it. Then he went ashore, and from the time he
landed all trace of him is lost. Sudden, you say! yes, but not at all
uncommon there, I can assure you. Whether he was shanghaied, stolen,
and shipped away like his poor men, and died on the passage, or was
just robbed and murdered with as little compunction as these trivial
happenings are achieved in San Francisco, the great Metropolis of the
West, as it is called, no one ever knew. At any rate he disappeared
just as easily as that, and never was heard of again.
But so far from this sudden bereavement of the ship being any drawback
to her prosperity or the comfort of those on board, it was felt as a
positive relief by everybody. An exception must be made in the case of
the poor mate, who lay in agony throughout that long night awaiting
the help that did not come, and when the morning dawned was in a high
fever. So evil was his condition that the second mate, unable to
wait any longer, hoisted the signal for a doctor, which was promptly
answered by an American man-o’-war at anchor near. Her surgeon, upon
arriving within twenty minutes of the hoisting of the signal, and
seeing the wounded man, looked very grave, and sternly asked why
assistance had not been summoned before. Matters were explained to him
as he worked, and he understood; but so low was Mr. Jenkins after the
extraction of the bullet that the surgeon said his recovery depended
entirely upon the strength of his constitution and careful nursing.
Then after a pleasant chat with Mr. Cope and the lads, who were as
anxious as the second mate about a man whom they had grown to admire
exceedingly, if not to love, he took his leave, promising to return at
any time he might be needed.
When all that could be had been done Mr. Cope turned the three lads,
Hansen, and the cook, to washing decks, for idleness on board ship is
fatal; but while they were in the midst of the work the agent boarded
the ship in a towering rage because she had not been reported direct to
him, entered inwards, or anything indeed done that is necessary when a
ship enters a civilised port. It took some time to explain matters to
him, and the explanation did not make him less angry, only transferred
his rage to the missing skipper who had of course taken the ship’s
papers with him. After a brief visit to the suffering mate, who was
now easier and in his right senses, the agent departed, promising that
he would send a medical man for regular attendance upon the wounded
officer, and also add such comforts as might be necessary.
And the little crowd resumed work in peace, being unmolested from
within as well as without--word having gone round among the crimps, of
course, that the _Sealark’s_ crew had been dealt with. Later in the
day the agent returned, saying that no trace of the skipper had been
found from the time of his landing, but that the police were making
inquiries. Meanwhile no business could be transacted owing to the
absence of the ship’s papers and the illness of the mate. The owners
had been cabled to, and had replied that the mate was to be confirmed
in charge if he recovered and the skipper were not found. This news
being told to the mate, caused the first gleam of pleasure to appear
on his grave, worn face that had been seen there almost since the ship
left England. No doubt he felt that he was about to receive his reward.
And now set in a weary time for the boys, all three of whom were a
bit stale and wanted a change, yet were not allowed to go ashore by
the second mate, in case of accidents. They went about their work in
grudging fashion, quite unlike the brisk way they had been behaving,
and worse still, neglected their learning from Hansen; they would
only listen to yarns, or lie about and smoke, and wish for impossible
things. Frank put in a good deal of time writing home a very long
account of the proceedings on the voyage, and incidentally gave vent
to his feelings about his letters having been kept from him. He little
knew how many of those loving missives had gone astray. And then his
heart was suddenly cheered by receiving a cablegram from home telling
him they had seen the news of his arrival in the _Journal of Commerce_,
and the other news as well, and that their letters were on the way to
him. This acted as a brisk tonic upon the flagging energies of the
lad, and he again addressed himself to his work, bucking up his friend
too. So valuable is a message from home to a heart that is sound. And
this opened the new and better era of life on board the _Sealark_ for
all concerned.