I don’t remember how I made out at the breakfast-table that morning, but
as soon as I came on deck I looked for the _Countess of Warwick_.
She lay right abreast of us, and so close aboard that I could have flung
a belaying-pin into her waist.
Our passengers went aft and sat in the shade of the spanker. They
appeared very much interested in the English ship.
Her great black hull sat well in the water, though she was not loaded
deep. At every roll of the swell I could see over her high
t’gallant-rail and catch a momentary glimpse of the men on her
main-deck.
Full rigged fore and aft, she showed a tremendous spread of canvas from
her three skysail-yards to the foot of her courses. Her tall spars and
long, tapering yards made stunsails unnecessary, and the bright
blackness of her standing rigging told plainly that she had a mate on
board who understood his business.
Below, her copper showed a foot clear of the sea, and the water was so
quiet and clear that the eye could easily follow it down under her
bilge, where it seemed to give forth a soft, greenish sheen as the light
fell on it at each swing of the hull.
At every roll of the swell her sails slatted against her masts and
backed and filled with short, irregular jerks at the clews, until the
rattle sounded like the distant roll of musketry.
While I stood looking at her, a short, slight man with red whiskers
appeared emerging from the after-companionway. He wore a cap with a long
visor, and a dark waistcoat flying loose and unbuttoned, which set off
the semi-whiteness of his shirt-sleeves to great advantage. He stood
looking at us a few moments, and then sung out:
“Hey there! where are you bound?”
“Hongkong, if you don’t foul and roll the gear out of us,” answered
Crojack, somewhat shortly.
“I will be aboard you in a minute,” came the response, and the small
skipper held up his hand as if to ward off any further conversation
until he arrived.
“Mr. Garnett!” he bawled, as he advanced to the edge of the poop, “Mr.
Garnett!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came the gruff response from somewhere directly beneath
his feet.
The next instant the sturdy figure rose from the main-deck, and a
shining bald head was furiously mopped within a foot of the skipper’s
knees.
“Mr. Garnett,” roared the little captain, “get that port quarter boat
overboard, sir, and don’t keep me waiting here all the morning. Jump,
now, for I can’t abide waiting for a lazy, worthless set of loafers like
your watch.”
A hoarse growling followed this order, and instantly all was noise and
action on the ship. The men rushed for oars and tackles, and I was
astonished at the large number of them in sight.
Above the turmoil could be heard some of Garnett’s favourite oaths,
which had more power of expression than any equal number of words before
put together.
The tackles were hooked on, and in another minute the boat was over the
side and ready.
“Give Mr. Carter the course, but tell him to lie by until we come aboard
again, and don’t keep me waiting here, but get into that boat and take
me to the American clipper _Arrow_. Come, bear a hand there.”
“Boat’s all ready, sir,” roared the mate, as he swung himself over the
rail and dropped into her stern-sheets, red in the face with exertion.
“Are the cushions in her?” inquired the skipper, looking cautiously over
the rail.
“Ay, ay, sir,” came the answer.
“Is the compass and water-breaker stowed safe?”
“Ay, ay, sir, all safe, sir.”
“Are provisions on board, in case we lose our bearings and can’t get
back again?”
“Ay, ay, sir, grub enough to last a week.”
“Have you the ‘navigator’ with you?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Have you the ‘navigator’? No! Well, how many times will I have to tell
you, Mr. Garnett, never to start off on a cruise until you are ready?
Get the ‘navigator,’ and be quick about it.”
The mate climbed on deck again and went below, reappearing in a moment
with the “navigator” tucked lovingly under his arm.
“All right, sir,” he cried, as he dropped over into the boat.
At this the little skipper climbed carefully down into the mizzen
channels and stepped into the stern-sheets, while the steward came to
the rail and passed the skipper’s coat to Mr. Garnett.
“Shove off! don’t sit there looking at me,” and the men let go and
shoved clear of the vessel’s side. Then they raised their oars to a
peak.
“Let fall!” and the two oars clattered clumsily into the row-locks.
“Give ’way together!” and the boat shot out from the ship’s side and
came toward us.
“Git on to th’ style av th’ Johnnie Bull,” chuckled O’Toole, who had
just come on deck; “wan would think ’twas a man-o’-war sindin’ out a
bloomin’ admiral. Now, b’ th’ faith av th’ howly saints! Who’s the mug I
see squattin’ there in th’ stern-sheets? Garnett! B’ th’--”
“In bow! Weigh enough!” cried the little skipper, as the boat with six
sweeping strokes fell alongside.
The next instant he sprang over the rail on to our main-deck, closely
followed by his mate.
Then he deliberately put on his coat, waved Garnett to stand back, and
approached Captain Crojack with a majestic step.
“Captain Webster, sir, yes, sir; Captain Webster of the _Countess of
Warwick_,” he cried, as he reached the quarter-deck, where our skipper
stood.
“Ah, did I hear aright? Crojack? Captain Crojack, I’m most happy to meet
you, sir; most eternally tickled. Ah, your wife and daughter, I see.
Madam, I bow to you. It gives me most uncommon pleasure, miss; yes, I
may even say delight. But now, sir,” he cried, turning suddenly upon
Crojack, “what is this row about, and what do you mean by hailing me and
ordering me to stand off?”
His attack upon the skipper was so sudden that Crojack staggered back a
pace or two in amazement and stared with open-eyed wonder at the little
man, while his features worked convulsively as if he didn’t know whether
to laugh or throw his guest overboard.
“Come, come, sir; I can’t waste all the morning here. Do you see that
flag, sir?” and he pointed to the British ensign that hung in folds from
his vessel’s peak.
“That is her Majesty’s flag, sir, and I’m her Majesty’s most humble
servant, though a most uncommon man, sir; and if there’s anything I can
do for you, sing out. Don’t stand there staring at me, sir. There’s
nothing aggravates me so, sir, as to have a man stare at me. Come, come,
don’t be afraid of me,” and he held out his hand in a friendly manner.
“Gee-whillikins!” gasped Crojack.
“Nothing of the kind, sir; not at all. Lionel Webster, if you please,
and an extraordinary man in some respects, if I do venture to say so
myself. Come, come, don’t be afraid. But, ah! Maybe the subject will not
bear discussion before the ladies, in which case we’ll go below, sir;
yes, sir, quite out of sight, sir,” and he grasped Crojack’s hand and
led him like a man who is not quite awake down the companionway into the
after cabin.
As they disappeared, I turned to meet Garnett, who, with O’Toole, had
stood silently watching the skippers in order to render any assistance
if necessary.
“Well, well, ’pon me whurd, for a fact! So it’s you, you old
bald-headed, bow-legged bean-swiller. Sure, there’s no mistaking that
stove-in figurehead av yourn. Say, but I’m glad t’ see ye again,
messmate. My, how it brings back the times we windjammers used t’ have
together, ’mongst th’ archipelagoes. Well, well, ’pon me whurd, how is
it you are afloat again, an’ on a bloody Johnnie Bull at that?”
“Don’t meddle with family affairs, shipmate. If a respectable married
man chooses to follow the sea for a living, why, there it is. There is
no more pious calling than a mate’s, as you might know yourself. But by
the eternal thunder! I wonder they allow a man with a head like yours
aboard a vessel carrying soft coal and oil in bulk. May the eternal fire
swinge me, but you are a freckle-faced, red-headed bulldog--
“You say you’re for China?”
Then he turned to me.
“Ah, Mr. Gore, blast me, but it does me good to get amongst the old
crowd. Seems like we’ll have a spell o’ weather, hey?” and the old mate
mopped his bald head with a dirty red handkerchief.
I shook hands with him and told him I was glad to see him again, for,
although he was an old man, he was active yet, and knew more about
handling square canvas than any man living.
I’m not a man to bemoan my luck, like nearly all sailors, and when I
find I’m down I make the best of it. So when old Bill Garnett--who had
been mate with my father a score of years before--looked askance at me
and called me Mr. instead of captain, knowing my rating, I shook his
hand and sat beside him on the main hatch.
Once in the shade of the mainsail the old mate fixed himself comfortably
and took from his coat pocket a small nickel-plated vial, at which he
sniffed loudly.
“What in th’ name av the saints have ye got yer fins on now?” asked
O’Toole, who had seated himself opposite. He stared in wonder at the
operation while the odour of peppermint filled the air.
“Blarst me if I know,” grunted Garnett, still sniffing violently at the
vial.
“What! peppermint? Ye coom t’ that in yer owld age? ’Pon me whurd,
’twas a different odour ye used to carry about ye.”
“I ain’t as young as I was onct, and that place in my head troubles me
more as I grows older. This little thing was sold to me by a fellow on
the beach, who said it was good for things in the head, an’ he wasn’t
the biggest liar I ever knew, for it does me a power o’ good, ’specially
at night. You see, I’m too old, anyway, to be cruising about much
longer, and if it wasn’t for the money to be gotten out of a cargo like
we carry, I would stay on the beach. Then, again, there’s family affairs
that makes me want to feel the heave of a ship’s deck under me once
more; but these are private matters and don’t concern no one but the
parties involved.
“This here little thing’s called ‘Killakoff Kurakold,’ which, the fellow
said what sold it to me, was Roosian for neuralg’a cure; but it has an
almighty Yankee smack to it. After all, when a man gets along toward his
last cruise, like me, he has to take some things for granted--an’ he
sees the value of leading an unselfish life, and that the only real
pleasures are those what relieve sufferings of others.”
“‘Pon me whurd, you have got it down mighty fine. Th’ very whurds old
Father Easyman used t’ say; an’ I do belave th’ medicine has virtue whin
it kapes an owld memory alive like that. ‘Sufferin’s av others,’ hey!
Which goes t’ show yer mane th’ fellow what invented that little
instrument was a thrue philanthropist, an’ a man after yer own heart.”
“I don’t remember hearing those words before,--leastways, not put in
that way,--but if you mean to say I didn’t make them up myself, why, I
suppose you’re right,” growled Garnett.
“As for making words brand-new, it’s a trade I don’t go into much. All
words I ever seen or heard, except some in foreign languages, was
invented long afore I was afloat,--such as Tom, Bill, and the likes. You
say that dapper chap there, talking to Johnson, is third mate? S’help
me! I suppose old man Crojack will be shipping sky-pilots and holy Joes
next,” and he carefully replaced his vial in his pocket, while he
listened to Brown talking to one of the boat’s crew who had climbed on
deck.
“He’s the best mate I ever sailed with,” I said, as I saw the look of
disdain gathering on the old mate’s face. “But tell us how you came to
be aboard an Englishman, and what kind of a cargo it is that pays so
well. You say you are bound for the Andamans?”
“I’m coming to that now,” he replied, “if you’ll just give a man time to
get his bearings,” and he reached into his pocket and drew forth an
enormous piece of plug tobacco. He bit off a couple of ounces and began
to manipulate the quid so as to get it securely stowed in his cheek
while he replaced the remainder of the plug in his pocket.
He then drew a long breath, as if about to begin his yarn, and squirted
a huge mouthful of tobacco juice on to the clean white deck.
“You see, when I married--”
“Here, Bill, get a swab an’ wipe up th’ dirty mess,” cried O’Toole to a
sailor. “This ain’t no bloody Johnnie Bull, an’ we don’t make no pig-pen
av the main-deck. But go ahead, messmate; there’s a swab for ye, an’ ye
can take snap shots at it betwixt breaths. Leave it lay, Bill.”
Garnett scowled at the sailor, who dropped the swab; then, taking no
further notice of the interruption, he began.