HAWAIIAN SHIPMATES
"Damn these rotten oilskins. By ---- what's this?" "Oh, _hell_!" It was
black as a pocket on deck and a sudden douse of rain sent us scrambling
for our oil clothing. "Damn it I'm lousy, sure as you're born. Ugh!"
and similar forceful if inelegant expressions punctuated the night as
we struggled into these smelly, sticky rags. They were as paper to the
rain; we were wet before we knew it. In the pockets and in every fold
millions of cockroaches, whole nations of them, debouched upon the
streaming decks. Some of us stole forward and in the light from the
fo'c'sle examined things. On the fo'c'sle deck, where we had knocked
them in hastily, unhooking the oiled clothing from the bulkhead behind
the water butt, were several regiments of roaches.
During our two months in Honolulu we had never used oilskins,
and, sailor-like, left them hang. In the warm atmosphere the bugs
multiplied amid luxurious surroundings with unlimited supplies of
delicious linseed-oil to thrive upon. Fortunately we were in the
tropics and a wet back did not matter, especially as we always doused
ourselves with a bucket of salt water after a wetting by rain, a sure
way to prevent colds. As for the evicted roaches, they were no doubt
as mad as we were. In the next fine spell we rubbed our oilskins
with fresh mixtures of raw oil and a little melted beeswax from the
sailmaker's stores.
The first job of any magnitude started, after leaving port, was to
scrape all bright work, that is, all varnished woodwork, masts and
light spars. We then rubbed them down with boiled linseed-oil. This
work was done from bo'sun's chairs, using pieces of broken glass as
scrapers. The fine shavings fluttered into every crook and corner of
the ship, lodging in the coils of rope and providing a constant job of
cleaning while the work was under way. Scouse was again elected to the
drudgery, but in this instance he became a man of some importance, for
Kahemuku and Black Joe were assigned to work with him. He jollied them
in a rough, uncouth way and they sat at his feet in respectful worship.
They were permanently constituted the knockabout gang of our watch and
cleaned out the head every other morning when we were on deck for the
washdown. Getting up coal for the galley of a Sunday morning was one
of their regular jobs, and after the washdown they were the boys who
handled the big deck swabs while the rest of us got the gear off the
pins and stowed the washdeck utensils.
As for myself, a change had come over the mate, or I too would have
been of this crowd. Our relations were fairly cordial again, becoming
increasingly so when I loaned him copies of "Midshipman Easy" and
"Commodore Junk," books given me by my father when I left home.
Of the three Kanakas we had the prize winner in Black Joe. In the first
place Black Joe never said "sir" to an officer, but he applied this
mark of distinction to every hand forward. At first some of the boys
wanted to make Black Joe permanent messman of the watch. He was willing
enough, for he knew nothing about a ship and felt his shortcomings and
wanted to help out.
"Be fair with him. How would you like that job regular?" Frenchy put in
the good word and we decided that Black Joe was to get a square deal
forward anyhow.
His failure to properly respond to orders from aft caused a lot of
suppressed amusement. The mate bawled him unmercifully but to no
purpose, for Black Joe simply had things set in his mind and there was
no changing him. Finally, the mate worked out a satisfactory solution
of the problem, so far as he was concerned, though Black Joe could
hardly be termed a third-rate success as a sailor.
"Here you! Fred, take that baboon and loose the fore upper tops'l!"
was his method of horsing him. In working the gear on deck he would
shout, "Get that Kanaka coon and hook him on the lee fore brace!" In
working ship Black Joe was pushed and pulled from station to station.
He could not coil down a rope properly no matter how often the trick
was explained to him; every other time he would lay the gear down
left-handed as like as not. If he hitched a coil on the fife or pin
rails it was an even chance that a fid would be needed to get it down.
Black Joe was all thumbs and his slow mind worked backward. His best
performance was at the kids, but his table manners would have disgraced
him at a luau.
Kahemuku was of a different type. He was sentimental, a dreamer and
all for himself when aloft. The way he would strangle the stick when
out on a yard was a sight for the angels. His long arms were as good
as three turns of a sea gasket, and his bare feet would grip the foot
ropes with brown prehensile toes. Life was made more bearable for him
by the fact that he was constantly looking forward to a shining goal.
"Pilladelpia" was the burden of his song. He intended to see the great
city of "Pilladelpia" and asked interminable questions about it,
sitting on the edge of his bunk, a great dusky six footer, with the
wistful brown eyes of a trusting child. When told we would probably
go to New York, he would answer, "No, I wanna go Pilladelpia." Poor
Kahemuku, whatever became of you God only knows. You most certainly
never fell from aloft, but your passage around the Horn in the
Antarctic winter must have prepared you for any fate.
Sailors, like other mortals, are as jealous of their little rights
and privileges as any of us ashore. To stand a trick at the wheel in
regular turn, to see that everyone stood his lawful share of this duty,
was a strong incentive to silence on the part of those who were wise to
the fact that Kahemuku and Black Joe knew nothing about steering. They
could not box the compass, and in fact knew nothing about the action
of the helm or the use of the wheel.
Black Joe stood a trick nevertheless between Australia and Fred,
and Ivahemuku followed Fred and was relieved in turn by able seaman
Brenden. That these three worthies, Australia, Fred and Brenden, knew
about the Kanaka's lack of proficiency was proven by the fact that
they always passed the course over the head of the Kanaka to the man
following. For the first few days out of port the steering was easy.
The wind held on the port quarter and the sea was smooth. It also
happened that the blacks had their tricks during the day watches while
the captain slumbered. The mate, as was his custom, seldom bothered
with the course during the day, devoting all of his energy to directing
the work on deck.
On the third day out Australia went to the wheel in the first night
watch and at four bells Black Joe headed aft to assume complete charge
of the steering, being shunted on his way by watchful shipmates.
Presently a terrible commotion aloft startled us, we were brought by
the lee with a slamming and slatting like thunder. Mr. Zerk jumped to
the break of the poop and started to bawl orders.
"Hard up, hell_um_! Weather fore braces! _Lively there!_"
Everything was shaking, with the yards pointing into the wind, and the
ship started to roll. "How do you head?" There was no response. "How do
you head, _damn you_!"
Forward we were swinging the head yards, and she started to box off,
while aft a secondary commotion centered about the wheelhouse, with
Captain Nichols acting the part of Satan, in yellow silk pajamas, and
Black Joe performing duty as the Butt of All Evil.
"What are you steering?" roared the captain. "_Mr. Zerk!_" never had
we heard him so sharp before. The mate was already aft, and to change
the course of wrath, he grabbed Joe and tossed him headlong out on the
deck, holding the wheel himself while he added to the din. "Lay aft!
Lay aft, _a man!_" Frenchy responded. In a few more moments we were
back on the course again and the captain held a drumhead court at the
break of the poop.
"Keep those black monkeys forward," he ordered, "and don't let this
happen again. By God, sir, these waters are full of coral reefs, and I
have got to hold my course, sir," he added, turning to the mate.
The next morning the three Kanakas were mustered in the waist and the
captain found that none of them had the least idea about steering,
either by compass or by the wind. John Aahee of the starboard watch was
denser even than Joe. Later on these simple fellows made up for their
lack of steering by doing additional turns at the back-breaking bilge
pumps.
After the generous way in which we lived in Honolulu, the return to sea
grub was sudden and disappointing. A week or so saw the end of fresh
provisions and we were back again on the salt horse of the passage out.
Lime-juice was given us at noon, and with the exception of spuds, we
were on the regulation lay. The tack was weevily, the tea even more
flavored with roach content than before, and the old drill of cracker
hash, slumgullion, salt horse, and pea soup, with occasional helpings
of applejack, or rare treats of Chow's gingerbread, carried us along.
About this time the parrot, Jake, came in for his share of attention.
Frenchy planned to take the bird home to Madeleine, and as his sister
would have no use for him otherwise, our careful shipmate guarded the
moral tone of the green bird with great care. He also made a screen of
ravensduck for the cage and was much worried over how the bird would
weather the cold in high southern latitudes. A month of this care on
the part of Frenchy was rewarded by the usual result in cases of that
kind, whether with dogs, birds, or children. Jake cut loose in a most
extraordinary manner, after one of his French lessons, and the outburst
would have been a credit to Mr. Zerk. Frenchy was grieved beyond all
hope of recovery and one and all we swore to our own innocence. The
upshot of it was that Frenchy lost interest in the parrot and the
profane Jake became a prime favorite with the crew forward. He was
really started on his downward path by Hitchen, of starboard, who took
him in hand while his master slept.
"Here comes the grub!" was one of his respectable parts of speech,
varied later on by "To hell with the grub," under the tutelage of
Australia.
After crossing the line, and working our way through the doldrum belt
of daily showers, calms and baffling winds, we held a course that
carried us between the Marquesas and Tuamotu, or the Low Archipelago.
During this time we kept a special lookout at night and sighted several
islands, giving them a wide berth. We were instructed to keep our
eyes peeled for "white water" and had a number of false alarms. On a
dark night, in this region, the sea is particularly black, of a blue
blackness that defies description. The seas are very phosphorescent,
especially so under a cloudy sky, and the breaking of a number of
rollers leaves a white wake that is disturbing to a lookout on the edge
for breakers. One imagines that breakers are ahead every few minutes.
Light rain squalls and brilliant floods of sunshine alternating in
the neighborhood of the Marquesas resulted in our witnessing the most
remarkable phenomenon of the voyage. We lay becalmed late in the
afternoon of a humid hot day, odd jobs were going on all over the ship,
iron work was being chipped, service renewed, and Australia and Brenden
were rattling down, everyone being busy. Frenchy and I, for we usually
worked together at "nice" jobs, were cutting and fitting the canvas for
a new mast coat on the mizzen, the old one having cracked and started a
leak into the cabin. This was a job that required expert fitting and we
were all attention to the work. All hands were so occupied that we did
not notice the black rain squall that suddenly came upon us in a puff
of cold air. A few minutes of this, while we manned the weather main
and lee crojik, to get whatever push there was in it, was followed by
the sun breaking through more scorching than before, while the wind,
such as was left, was distinctly up and down. A beautiful rainbow
formed under the receding cloud, and then we saw that we were near an
island, close aboard off the starboard bow, while the rain pall drifted
rapidly to port. We came upon it with such suddenness that for a moment
most of us lost our heads.
"Hard starb'd!" shouted the skipper, and then there was a laugh on deck
in which he joined heartily. We were as stationary as the island except
for the little way upon us given by the passing rain squall. "Lay aloft
and take a look at that." Captain Nichols addressed Frenchy and me, and
we skinned up the mizzen while he went to the companion and took the
long glass from the rack. That land certainly looked strange!
When going over the top, I stopped. Frenchy was ahead of me and almost
at the crosstrees. He was looking around in a bewildered sort of a
way; he was glancing around the entire horizon, thinking the ship had
changed her head. I too looked all about but could see nothing.
"What do you make out?" called up the skipper.
"Nothing in sight, sir!"
"All right. Lay down!"
It was a fine mirage; a remarkably clear one. When we got to the deck
the "island" had assumed grotesque shapes: the green faded out and the
palm trees began to look like young waterspouts. Suddenly the whole
picture melted from view.