GOOD-BYE TO HONOLULU
As the hold began to fill up, the top of the sugar was brought inboard
from the wings to an apex, and the lower cargo space not quite filled.
The 'tween deck was then loaded in order to carry the dead weight
sufficiently high to prevent the ship from being stiff; to make her
more "sea kindly" as sailors say. Theoretical questions of metacentric
height, of the center of buoyancy, and their relation to stability
never bothered the captain or Mr. Zerk. But as the loading progressed
they paid a lot of attention to her trim and in the placement of the
last part of the cargo, the mate assumed complete charge. The _Fuller_
sailed best trimmed a few feet by the stern, but in the final loading
this extra depth aft was cut down to a single foot as a matter of
experiment, the mean draft loaded being seventeen feet eight inches,
giving her the usual freeboard of about four feet or three inches to
every foot of draft, according to the old rule. Draft is shown by
figures cut into the stem and stern post; these are six inches high and
the figure rests on the mark it indicates.
In addition to the sugar from the railroad, we had steamers of the
inter-island trade come along side and discharge their cargoes right
onto our deck. These craft have been touched upon before. The _Mauna
Loa_, one of the largest at that time, was quite a passenger carrier.
As I think of the inter-island steamers they always appear to have been
somewhat out of drawing, when compared with the beautiful sailers of
those days.
During the final week of loading, when we had closed the 'tween deck
hatches to the lower hold and were putting down the finishing tiers of
cargo, we paid our last visits ashore. I bid "good-bye" to Mr. McInerny
and the good friends I had made, both in society and out. We went over
to the _British Monarch_, Hitchen and I, for a last visit. The mates
had a bit of a "blow" for us, hot toddy, which tasted right in spite of
the warm weather, cigars, and some Huntley and Palmer biscuits broken
out of their stores for this special occasion. Of course we promised
to write, and never did, and Mr. Gore gave me an old copy of Raper, he
having two of them, as a parting gift. To Hitchen he gave a tin of
navy cut that had been sent out to him from England. They were hoping
for word of a charter to be on their way, and thought they might load
sugar for New York, when we planned to meet again as sailors sometimes
do.
[Illustration: Jack Hitchen]
With what little change we had left, we laid in a few stores for the
voyage home, a few bunches of bananas, odds and ends of clothing, and
the like. I purchased a pair of mittens, after a search in that tropic
city, as mine had worn out in hauling at the gear. The most startling
addition to our life forward was a green parrot that Frenchy brought
aboard, having swapped him at the Union saloon for a small brig,
rigged in a bay rum bottle. This brig had been a long time making, and
Frenchy only let go of it when he was assured of a prize. The bird,
hailing from God knows where, as I don't believe they are native to the
islands, was to be a present to his sister Madeleine. Frenchy named
him Jaques, at once vulgarized to common Jake, and he was hung in his
wooden cage under the fo'c'sle head.
Just before hauling into the stream, Captain Nichols shipped three
Kanakas to take the places left vacant by Mr. Stoddard, Jimmy, and
Joe. This made it certain that someone from the crew would be taken
aft as second mate. The Kanakas were a rare assortment. Kahemuku, a
lanky, poetical looking fellow with long hair and dreamy eyes, hailed
from Tahiti. The two others, both of them short and somewhat stout,
were from Honolulu and should have known better than to ship around
the Horn. John Aahee was assigned to the starboard watch; he was clean
shaven and dull, a poor devil who merely existed after we got to sea.
Black Joe, so the mate called him, since his name was beyond ordinary
understanding, was fully whiskered with a bunch of fuzz that looked
like the stuffing of an old hair mattress. Joe had a peculiar idea
about the relation between officers and men, and never could get this
straightened out. Black Joe and Kahemuku were assigned to the port
watch to take the place of Jimmy and Joe.
Some of the men thought that I would be called aft as second mate.
Ambitious as I was for preferment, I realized that the billet would be
about the worst thing that could happen to me. Whatever the captain
may have thought about it, the mate was against me, as we remained at
loggerheads while I visited with my "dude friends," which I did at
intervals as long as we were in port.
Old Smith was the logical candidate for the job, and the mate wanted
him. Others were like Barkis, but the strange part was that the real
sailors in the crew, the men who knew enough to stand a watch at sea
and work the ship, were the most anxious to side step the honor.
Having loaded our sugar, the chutes were sent ashore, and we again
hauled out into the stream, this time for good. We at once battened
down the hatches, putting on triple tarpaulins, and, having taken
down the cargo pendants, we again rove the seagoing running gear;
after a day of scrubbing, during which the spars were washed clean of
dust, we then began to bend sail. This took us the greater part of
two days while we sent aloft the fine weather canvas. Then followed
another general washing down and cleaning over the side, and the ship
_A. J. Fuller_ looked herself again. Loaded to her deep sea trim,
with yards squared to a hair and canvas furled with a harbor stow, we
were as flash a ship as ever hailed from the port of New York--clean,
and seamanlike in every detail. Fancy manropes were got out for the
gangways, the galley smoke stack was given a coat of black paint,
making "Charlie Noble," as this piece of humble but necessary sea
furniture is called, as sporty as any part of the old girl.
In the meantime, while our busy little ship world revolved within its
restricted orbit, events of historic importance were happening in the
great arena beyond the seas. Dewey had captured Manila and the first
troops to go out from the United States were expected in Honolulu, en
route to the Philippines. Preparations to welcome them of a gigantic
nature were carried out by the enthusiastic citizens of Honolulu,
the American element being in the ascendant. A tremendous flag was
got ready, to be raised over the railroad wharf, and huge stores of
sandwiches were made and held in readiness for the soldiers. Also
every barrel and bottle of beer in the place was put on ice against
an emergency. The citizens were determined that hunger should not
outflank the U. S. forces, if by any means it could be prevented, nor
was old General Thirst to be allowed to down a single man. It was also
decided that U. S. legal tender was not to be accepted when offered for
refreshment by a man wearing the uniform of Uncle Sam, showing how war
fever (for a time) upsets the commercial mind.
The transports _City of Pekin_, _City of Sydney_, and _Australia_,
came into the harbor on June first carrying twenty-two hundred troops.
These vessels were under convoy of the U. S. S. _Charleston_. The day
was a gala one and in the midst of the excitement we received our
orders to sail for Delaware Breakwater. This came as a surprise as we
expected to be sent to Frisco because of the possibility of our being
picked up by a Spaniard in view of the uncertain state of affairs in
the Atlantic. We were then in the stream, wistful gazers at the harbor
activities and the glimpses of great times ashore afforded by the pier
heads and the esplanade.
With the coming of our orders, Captain Nichols sent out such fresh
provisions as deep water ships usually take to sea with them. A potato
bin had been constructed under the fo'c'sle head in a place that
would be fairly dry and having a good circulation of air. Into this
we put about a ton of the tubers. Some fresh meat was sent aboard,
and a few bunches of bananas strung in the after wheel house for the
cabin mess. A number of our men had been offered billets on coasters,
and this was specially so during the last few weeks of our loading.
The pay day of close to fifty dollars already on the books, and the
prospect of landing in New York with almost eighty dollars added
to it, was a prospect hard to leave, especially since the plans for
great futures depended absolutely upon these prospective nest eggs.
The fact, however, was that we were a well selected crowd and liked to
sail together. The captain was absolutely square and the mate was a
sailor from his toes to his truck; we were too much accustomed to the
routine on the _Fuller_ to want to change. As far as I was concerned,
I was happy to remain on board and work back around old Cape Stiff
again. Mr. McInerny had offered to have me released from the articles
and wanted me to take up my residence in the islands, telling me of the
many advantages, much after the manner of Robinson Crusoe's old father,
when that wilful lad determined upon the sea as a career. I, too, had
old Crusoe's trouble pretty well soaked into my system. I was really an
enthusiast about going to sea, in spite of the hard knocks, so I made
up my mind to complete the voyage.
On Sunday, five days before we sailed, the captain called Old Smith aft
and formally offered him the billet as second mate. Old Smith refused
to move out of the fo'c'sle, and came forward with a fat cigar in his
teeth, saying, "The skipper's all right. He sure is all right."
After that we were too busy to think anything more of the vexed
problem, being horsed about at bending sail and preparing for sea. On
the eve of our departure we were sitting on the fo'c'sle head watching
the crowded harbor, the comings and goings from the men o' war and
transports, and listening to the bugle calls. We had washed up after
the day's work, and the mess cooks had gone to the galley for the kids.
"We'll sleep our last night in, tonight," ventured Frenchy, as we
perched on the heel of the starboard cathead. It was a thought that
came to all of us.
"Grub O!" called Fred from the space about the fore pin rail, where
both watches ate together while in port. We sat around the kids, under
the tall gear of the foremast rising overhead, the faint peppering of
stars showing between the yards as we began our supper.
"Here comes the mate," said Martin, who was perched on the short ladder
leading to the fo'c'sle head, from the port side of the house.
"Wot of it, let him come."
Presently Mr. Zerk stood in the gangway looking at us, he bulked big,
and smoked a strong cigar. This was the first time he had ever intruded
upon our meals during our stay in port.
"Where's the second mate?" he asked pleasantly.
Most of us looked around anxiously, half expecting the old second mate
would bob up from some dark corner.
"Come on, where is he?" The mate was evidently enjoying his little
game. "Where is he now?" came the question again, but in a sharp tone
such as we usually associated with coming trouble. "Come on, where is
he?" Suddenly he started to laugh; of course we all joined him in a
sort of nervous chorus.
"Ho, there he is hiding behind the kid! Our new second mate, Mr.
Morstad! _Well, well, well!_" and this is how Tommy, most unexpected of
candidates, became Mr. Morstad, second mate of the ship _A. J. Fuller_.
"Lay aft," said the mate, as he turned to go, "the steward has your
dinner ready, and don't forget to bring your napkin."
Tommy was choking with astonishment, speechless, and miserable. None of
us laughed at the last cruel thrust; in fact we felt sorry for Tommy,
but as soon as we saw him stop eating the fo'c'sle grub, with the quick
perception that better things awaited him aft, a lively discussion
arose.
"Call him _Mr. Morstad_!" thundered Australia. "I won't have no
disrespect here just because _Mr. Morstad_ ain't had the bringin' up
you an' me has. No, sir, I have some respect for the officers of this
ship, I have."
There was a lot more in a similar vein. Volunteers offered to carry his
chest aft, and did every thing but lift it, poor Tommy having to drag
it along the deck until he got to the waist, when Chips came out of
his den and helped him the rest of the way. It was dark then, and the
gong for the second cabin table no doubt compensated Tommy for all the
tortures of his departure.
"I'm damn glad he ain't in my watch," said Brenden, and all of us to
port felt the same way. Before Tommy had time to adjust himself to his
new condition, the kicking started to starboard.
In this particular episode of the voyage Mr. Zerk departed as far
from the traditions of the sea as it was possible for him to go. The
next morning, as we got under way to sea, Captain Nichols made it a
point to show public respect to the new second officer. It was "Mr.
Morstad, this," and "How do you head, _sir_?" all of which pleased Tom
immensely, and was the right and proper thing to do.