"Captain, you're just right. I've no friends here, nor am like to have.
I can't tell you all about myself, but there's nothing wrong about me,
if you'll take my word for it. I'm not a thief nor a vagabond."
"Well, I do believe you," said the other; "there's truth in your face
and on your tongue. I flatter myself I know a rogue when I see one.
Will you tell me, at any rate, what you mean to do in Liverpool?"
"That's easier asked nor answered," replied Jacob. "Captain, I don't
mind telling you this much--I've just run away to Liverpool to get out
of the reach of the drink. I am ready to do any honest work, if I can
get it, but that don't seem to be so easy."
"Exactly so," said Captain Merryweather. "Now, what do you say, then,
to going a voyage to Australia with me? I'm in want of a cabin-boy, and
I think you'd suit me. I'll feed and clothe you, and I'll find you a
situation over in Australia if you conduct yourself well on board ship;
or, if you like to keep with me, I'll give you on the return voyage what
wages are right."
The boy's eyes sparkled with delight. He sprang from his seat, grasped
the captain's hand warmly between his own, and cried,--
"Captain, I'll go with you to the end of the world and back again, wage
or no wage."
"I sail to-morrow," said the other; "shall you be ready?"
"Ready this moment," was the answer. "I have nothing of my own but what
I stand in."
"Come along then with me," said his kind friend; "I'll see you properly
rigged out, and you shall go on board with me at once."
They had not long left the hotel, and were passing along a back street
on their way to the outfitter's, when a man came hastily out of a low
public-house, and ran rather roughly against Captain Merryweather.
"Halloa, my friend," cried the sailor, "have a care; you should keep a
brighter look-out. You've run me down, and might have carried away a
spar or two."
The man looked round, and muttered something.
"I'm sorry to see you coming out of such a place, my man," added the
captain.
"Well, but I'm not drunk," said the other.
"Perhaps not, but you're just on the right tack to get drunk. Come,
tell me what you've had."
"I've only had seventeen pints of ale and three pennorth of gin."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed the captain, half out loud, as the man
walked off with a tolerably steady step. "He says he's not drunk after
taking all that stuff aboard. Jacob, you seem as if you knew something
of him."
"Ay, captain," said Jacob, who had slunk behind the captain when he saw
the man. "I do, for sure; but you must excuse my telling you who he is,
or where he comes from."
"He's not a good friend or companion for any one, I should think," said
the captain.
"He's no friend of mine," answered Jacob; "he's too fond of the drink.
And yet he's called to be a sober man by many, 'cos he brings some of
his wage home on the pay-night. Yet I've heard him say myself how he's
often spent a sovereign in drink between Saturday night and Monday
morning."
"And what do you suppose has brought him here?"
"I can't tell, unless the mayster he works for has sent him over on
count of summat. It's more like, however, as he's come to see his
sister as lives somewhere in these parts."
"And you'd rather he didn't know you are here, I suppose?"
"Just so, captain. There's them, perhaps, as'd be arter me if he were
to tell 'em as he'd see'd me here; but I don't think as he did see me;
he were half fuddled: but he never gets fairly drunk."
"Well, Jacob, I don't wish to pry into your own private concerns. I'll
take it for granted that you're dealing honestly by me."
"You may be sure of that, captain. I'll never deceive you. I haven't
done anything to disgrace myself; but I wish to get gradely out of the
reach of such chaps as yon fellow you've just spoke to. I've had weary
work with the drink, and I wishes to make a fresh start, and to forget
as I ever had any belonging me. So it's just what'll suit me gradely to
go with you over to Australia; and you must excuse me if I make mistakes
at first; but I'll do my best, and I can't say anything beyond that."
By this time they had reached the outfitter's, where the captain saw
Jacob duly rigged out and furnished with all things needful for the
voyage. They had left the shop and were on their way to the docks, when
a tall sailor-looking man crossed over to them. His face was bronzed
from exposure, but was careworn and sad, and bore unmistakable marks of
free indulgence in strong drinks.
"Merryweather, how are you, my friend?" he cried, coming up and shaking
the captain warmly by the hand.
"Ah, Thomson, is that you?" said the other, returning the grasp. "I was
very sorry indeed to hear of your misfortune."
"A bad business--a shocking business," said his friend, shaking his head
despondingly. "Not a spar saved. Three poor fellows drowned. And all
my papers and goods gone to the bottom."
"Yes, I heard something of it, and I was truly grieved. How did it
happen?"
"Why, I'll tell you how it was. I don't know what it is, Merryweather,
but you're a very lucky fellow. Some men seem born to luck: it hasn't
been so with me. It's all gone wrong ever since I left Australia. We'd
fair weather and a good run till we were fairly round the Horn; but one
forenoon the glass began to fall, and I saw there was heavy weather
coming. After a bit it came on to blow a regular gale. The sea got up
in no time, and I had to order all hands up to reef topsails. We were
rather short-handed, for I could hardly get men when I started, for love
or money. Well, would you believe it?--half a dozen of the fellows were
below so drunk that they couldn't stand."
"Ah, I feared," said Captain Merryweather, "that the drink had something
to do with your troubles. But how did they manage to get so tipsy?"
"Oh, they contrived to get at one of the spirit-casks. They bored a
hole in it with a gimlet, and sucked the rum out through a straw. There
was nothing for it but to send up the steward, and Jim, my cabin-boy,
along with the others who were on deck. But poor Jim was but a clumsy
hand at it; and as they were lying out on the yard, the poor fellow lost
his hold, and was gone in a moment. I never caught one look at him
after he fell. Ay, but that wasn't all. About a week after, I was
wanting the steward one morning to fetch me something out of the
lazarette; so I called him over and over again. He came at last, but so
tipsy that I could make nothing of him; and I had to start him off to
the steerage, and take on another man in his place. He'd been helping
himself to the spirits. It was very vexing, you'll allow; for he was
quite a handy chap, and I got on very poorly afterwards without him. I
don't know how you manage, but you seem always to get steady men."
"Yes," said Captain Merryweather; "because I neither take the drink
myself nor have it on board."
"Ay, but I can never get on without my glass of grog," said the other.
"Then I'm afraid you'll never get your men to do without it. There's
nothing like example--`example's better than precept.'"
"I believe you're right. But you haven't heard the end of my
misfortunes, nor the worst either. It was a little foggy as we were
getting into the Channel, and I'd given, of course, strict orders to
keep a good look-out; so two of our sharpest fellows went forward when
it began to get dark, and I had a steady man at the wheel. I'd been on
deck myself a good many hours; so I just turned in to get a wink of
sleep, leaving the first mate in charge. I don't know how long I'd
slept, for I was very weary, when all in a moment there came a dreadful
crash, and I knew we were run into. I was out and on deck like a shot;
but the sea was pouring in like a mill-stream, and I'd only just time to
see the men all safe in the _Condor_--the ship that ran into us--and get
on board myself, before the poor _Elizabeth_ went down head foremost.
It's very strange. I hadn't been off the deck ten minutes, and that was
the first time I'd gone below for the last sixteen hours. It's just
like my luck. The captain of the _Condor_ says we were to blame; and
our first mate says their men were to blame. I can't tell how it was.
It was rather thick at the time; but we ought to have seen one another's
lights. Some one sung out on the other ship; but it was too late then,
and our two poor fellows who were forward looking out were both lost.
It's very strange; don't you think so?"
"It's very sad," replied the other; "and I'm heartily sorry for it.
It's a bad job anyhow; and yet, to tell you the honest truth, I'm not so
very much surprised, for I suspect that the drink was at the bottom of
it."
"No, no; you're quite mistaken there. I never saw either the mate or
the man at the wheel, or any of the men who were then on deck, drunk, or
anything like it, during the whole voyage."
"That may be," said the other; "but I did not say it was drunkenness,
but the drink, that I thought was at the bottom of it. The men may have
been the worse for drink without being drunk."
"I don't understand you."
"No, I see you don't; that's the worst of it. Very few people do see
it, or understand it; but it's true. A man's the worse for drink when
he's taken so much as makes him less fit to do his work, whatever it may
be. You'll think it rather strange, perhaps, in me to say so; but I
_do_ say it, because I believe it, that more accidents arise from the
drink than from drunkenness, or from moderate drinking, as it is called,
than from drunkenness."
"How so?"
"Why, thus. A man may take just enough to confuse him, or to make him
careless, or to destroy his coolness and self-possession, without being
in the least drunk; or he may have taken enough to make him drowsy, and
so unfit to do work that wants special attention and watchfulness."
"I see what you mean," said the other.
"Perhaps you'd all been drinking an extra glass when you found
yourselves so near home."
"Why, yes. To tell you the truth, we had all of us a little more than
usual that night; and yet I'll defy any man to say that we were not all
perfectly sober."
"But yet, in my way of looking at it," said Captain Merryweather, "you
were the worse for liquor, because less able to have your wits about
you. And that's surely a very serious thing to look at for ourselves,
and our employers too; for if we've taken just enough to make us less up
to our work, we're the worse for drink, though no man can say we're
drunk. Take my advice, Thomson, and keep clear of the grog altogether,
and then you'll find your luck come back again. You'll find it better
for head, heart, and pocket, take my word for it."
"I believe you're right. I'll think of what you've said," was the
reply; and they parted.
"Jacob, my lad," said Captain Merryweather, as they walked along, "did
you hear what Captain Thomson said?"
"Ay, captain; and what you said too. And I'm sure you spoke nothing but
the real truth."
"Well, you just mark that, Jacob. There are scores of accidents and
crimes from drunkenness, and they get known, and talked about, and
punished; but there are hundreds which come from moderate drinking, or
from the drink itself, which are never traced. Ships run foul of one
another, trains come into collision, houses get set on fire; and the
drink is at the bottom of most of it, I believe, because people get put
off their balance, and ain't themselves, and so get careless, or
confused, or excited, and then mischief follows. And yet no one can say
they're drunk; and where are you to draw the line? A man's the worse
for drink long before he's anything like intoxicated; for it is in the
very nature of the drink to fly at once to a man's brain. Ah, give me
the man or lad, Jacob, that takes none. His head is clear, his hand's
steady, his eye is quick. He's sure not to have taken too much, because
he has taken none at all.--But here we are. There lies my good ship,
the barque _Sabrina_. You shall come on board with me at once, and see
your quarters."