Of course, there is a deal of bullying done at sea at times, said the
night watchman, thoughtfully. The men call it bullying an' the officers
call it discipline, but it's the same thing under another name. Still,
it's fair in a way. It gets passed on from one to another. Everybody
aboard a'most has got somebody to bully, except, perhaps, the smallest
boy; he 'as the worst of it, unless he can manage to get the ship's cat
by itself occasionally.
I don't think sailor-men mind being bullied. I never 'eard of it's
putting one off 'is feed yet, and that's the main thing, arter all's
said and done.
Fust officers are often worse than skippers. In the fust place, they
know they ain't skippers, an' that alone is enough to put 'em in a bad
temper, especially if they've 'ad their certifikit a good many years
and can't get a vacancy.
I remember, a good many years ago now, I was lying at Calcutta one time
in the _Peewit_, as fine a barque as you'd wish to see, an' we 'ad a
fust mate there as was a disgrace to 'is sects. A nasty, bullying,
violent man, who used to call the hands names as they didn't know the
meanings of and what was no use looking in the dictionary for.
There was one chap aboard, Bill Cousins, as he used to make a partikler
mark of. Bill 'ad the misfortin to 'ave red 'air, and the way the mate
used to throw that in 'is face was disgraceful. Fortunately for us all,
the skipper was a very decent sort of man, so that the mate was only at
'is worst when he wasn't by.
We was sitting in the fo'c's'le at ten one arternoon, when Bill Cousins
came down, an' we see at once 'e'd 'ad a turn with the mate. He sat
all by hisself for some time simmering, an' then he broke out. "One o'
these days I'll swing for 'im; mark my words."
"Don't be a fool, Bill," ses Joe Smith.
"If I could on'y mark 'im," says Bill, catching his breath. "Just mark
'im fair an' square. If I could on'y 'ave 'im alone for ten minutes,
with nobody standing by to see fair play. But, o' course, if I 'it 'im
it's mutiny."
"You couldn't do it if it wasn't, Bill," ses Joe Smith again.
"He walks about the town as though the place belongs to 'im," said Ted
Hill. "Most of us is satisfied to shove the niggers out o' the way,
but he ups fist an' 'its 'em if they comes within a yard of 'im."
"Why don't they 'it 'im back?" ses Bill. "I would if I was them."
Joe Smith grunted. "Well, why don't you?" he asked.
"'Cos I ain't a nigger," ses Bill.
"Well, but you might be," ses Joe, very soft. "Black your face an'
'ands an' legs, and dress up in them cotton things, and go ashore and
get in 'is way."
"If you will, I will, Bill," ses a chap called Bob Pullin.
Well, they talked it over and over, and at last Joe, who seemed to take
a great interest in it, went ashore and got the duds for 'em. They was
a tight fit for Bill, Hindu's not being as wide as they might be, but
Joe said if 'e didn't bend about he'd be all right, and Pullin, who was
a smaller man, said his was fust class.
After they were dressed, the next question was wot to use to colour
them with; coal was too scratchy, an' ink Bill didn't like. Then Ted
Hill burnt a cork and started on Bill's nose with it afore it was cool,
an' Bill didn't like that.
"Look 'ere," ses the carpenter, "nothin' seems to please you,
Bill--it's my opinion you're backing out of it."
"You're a liar," ses Bill.
"Well, I've got some stuff in a can as might be boiled-down Hindu for
all you could tell to the difference," ses the carpenter; "and if
you'll keep that ugly mouth of your's shut, I'll paint you myself."
Well, Bill was a bit flattered, the carpenter being a very superior
sort of a man, and quite an artist in 'is way, an' Bill sat down an'
let 'im do 'im with some stuff out of a can that made 'im look like
a Hindu what 'ad been polished. Then Bob Pullin was done too, an'
when they'd got their turbins on, the change in their appearance was
wonderful.
"Feels a bit stiff," ses Bill, working 'is mouth.
"That'll wear off," ses the carpenter; "it wouldn't be you if you
didn't 'ave a grumble, Bill."
"And mind and don't spare 'im. Bill," ses Joe. "There's two of you, an'
if you only do wot's expected of you, the mate ought to 'ave a easy
time abed this v'y'ge."
"Let the mate start fust," ses Ted Hill. "He's sure to start on you if
you only get in 'is way. Lord, I'd like to see his face when you start
on 'im!"
Well, the two of 'em went ashore after dark with the best wishes o' all
on board, an' the rest of us sat down in the fo'c's'le spekerlating
as to what sort o' time the mate was goin' to 'ave. He went ashore
all right, because Ted Hill see 'im go, an' he noticed with partikler
pleasure as 'ow he was dressed very careful.
It must ha' been near eleven o'clock. I was sitting with Smith on
the port side o' the galley, when we heard a 'ubbub approaching the
ship. It was the mate just coming aboard. He was without 'is 'at; 'is
neck-tie was twisted round 'is ear, and 'is shirt and 'is collar was
all torn to shreds. The second and third officers ran up to him to
see what was the matter, and while he was telling them, up comes the
skipper.
"You don't mean to tell me, Mr. Fingall," ses the skipper, in surprise,
"that you've been knocked about like that by them mild and meek Hindus?"
"Hindus, sir?" roared the mate. "Cert'n'y not, sir. I've been assaulted
like this by five German sailor-men. And I licked 'em all."
"I'm glad to hear that," ses the skipper; and the second and third pats
the mate on the back, just like you pat a dog you don't know.
"Big fellows they was," ses he, "an' they give me some trouble. Look at
my eye!"
The second officer struck a match and looked at it, and it cert'n'y was
a beauty.
"I hope you reported this at the police-station?" ses the skipper.
"No, sir," ses the mate, holding up 'is 'ed. "I don't want no p'lice
to protect me. Five's a large number, but I drove 'em off, and I don't
think they'll meddle with any British fust officers again."
"You'd better turn in," ses the second, leading him off by the arm.
The mate limped off with him, and as soon as the coast was clear we put
our 'eds together and tried to make out how it was that Bill Cousins
and Bob 'ad changed themselves into five German sailor-men.
"It's the mate's pride," ses the carpenter. "He didn't like being
knocked about by Hindus."
We thought it was that, but we had to wait nearly another hour afore
the two came aboard, to make sure. There was a difference in the way
they came aboard, too, from that of the mate. _They_ didn't make no
noise, and the fust thing we knew of their coming aboard was seeing
a bare, black foot waving feebly at the top of the fo'c's'le ladder
feelin' for the step.
That was Bob. He came down without a word, and then we see 'e was
holding another black foot and guiding it to where it should go. That
was Bill, an' of all the 'orrid, limp-looking blacks that you ever see,
Bill was the worst when he got below. He just sat on a locker all of
a heap and held 'is 'ed, which was swollen up, in 'is hands. Bob went
and sat beside 'im, and there they sat, for all the world like two
wax-figgers instead o' human beings.
"Well, you done it, Bill?" ses Joe, after waiting a long time for them
to speak. "Tell us all about it!"
"Nothin' to tell," ses Bill, very surly. "We knocked 'im about."
"And he knocked us about," ses Bob, with a groan. "I'm sore all over,
and as for my feet----"
"Wot's the matter with them?" ses Joe.
"Trod on," ses Bob, very short. "If my bare feet was trod on once they
was a dozen times. I've never 'ad such a doing in all my life. He
fought like a devil. I thought he'd ha' murdered Bill."
"I wish 'e 'ad," ses Bill, with a groan; "my face is bruised and cut
about cruel. I can't bear to touch it."
[Illustration: "IT CERT'N'Y WAS A BEAUTY."]
"Do you mean to say the two of you couldn't settle 'im?" ses Joe,
staring.
"I mean to say we got a hiding," ses Bill. "We got close to him fust
start off and got our feet trod on. Arter that it was like fighting a
windmill, with sledge-hammers for sails."
He gave a groan and turned over in his bunk, and when we asked him some
more about it, swore at us. They both seemed quite done up, and at last
dropped off to sleep just as they was, without even stopping to wash
the black off or to undress themselves.
I was awoke rather early in the morning by the sounds of somebody
talking to themselves, and a little splashing of water. It seemed to
go on a long while, and at last I leaned out of my bunk and see Bill
bending over a bucket and washing himself and using bad language.
"Wot's the matter, Bill?" ses Joe, yawning and sitting up in bed.
"My skin's that tender, I can hardly touch it," ses Bill, bending down
and rinsing 'is face. "Is it all orf?"
"Orf?" ses Joe; "no, o' course it ain't. Why don't you use some soap?"
"Soap," answers Bill, mad-like; "why, I've used more soap than I've
used for six months in the ordinary way."
"That's no good," ses Joe; "give yourself a good wash."
Bill put down the soap then very careful, and went over to 'im and told
him all the dreadful things he'd do to him when he got strong ag'in,
and then Bob Pullin got out of his bunk an' 'ad a try on _his_ face.
Him an' Bill kept washing, and then taking each other to the light and
trying to believe it was coming off until they got sick of it, and then
Bill 'e up with his foot and capsized the bucket, and walked up and
down the fo'c's'le raving.
"Well, the carpenter put it on," ses a voice, "make 'im take it orf."
You wouldn't believe the job we 'ad to wake that man up. He wasn't
fairly woke till he was hauled out of 'is bunk an' set down opposite
them two pore black fellers an' told to make 'em white again.
"I don't believe as there's anything will touch it," he ses, at last.
"I forgot all about that."
"Do you mean to say," bawls Bill, "that we've got to be black all the
rest of our life?"
"Certrily not," ses the carpenter, indignantly, "it'll wear off in
time; shaving every morning'll 'elp it, I should say."
"I'll get my razor now," ses Bill, in a awful voice; "don't let 'im go,
Bob. I'll 'ack 'is head orf."
He actually went off an' got his razor, but o' course, we jumped out o'
our bunks and got between 'em and told him plainly that it was not to
be, and then we set 'em down and tried everything we could think of,
from butter and linseed oil to cold tea-leaves used as a poultice, and
all it did was to make 'em shinier an' shinier.
"It's no good, I tell you," ses the carpenter, "it's the most lasting
black I know. If I told you how much that stuff is a can, you wouldn't
believe me."
"Well, you're in it," ses Bill, his voice all of a tremble; "you done
it so as we could knock the mate about. Whatever's done to us'll be
done to you too."
"I don't think turps 'll touch it," ses the carpenter, getting up, "but
we'll 'ave a try."
[Illustration: "HE BURIED HIS FACE IN IT."]
He went and fetched the can and poured some out on a bit o' rag and
told Bill to dab his face with it. Bill give a dab, and the next moment
he rushed over with a scream and buried his head in a shirt what
Simmons was wearing at the time and began to wipe his face with it.
Then he left the flustered Simmons an' shoved another chap away from
the bucket and buried his face in it and kicked and carried on like a
madman. Then 'e jumped into his bunk again and buried 'is face in the
clothes and rocked hisself and moaned as if he was dying.
"Don't you use it, Bob," he ses, at last.
"'Tain't likely," ses Bob. "It's a good thing you tried it fust, Bill."
"'Ave they tried holy-stone?" ses a voice from a bunk.
"No, they ain't," ses Bob, snappishly, "and, what's more, they ain't
goin' to."
Both o' their tempers was so bad that we let the subject drop while we
was at breakfast. The orkard persition of affairs could no longer be
disregarded. Fust one chap threw out a 'int and then another, gradually
getting a little stronger and stronger, until Bill turned round in a
uncomfortable way and requested of us to leave off talking with our
mouths full and speak up like Englishmen wot we meant.
"You see, it's this way, Bill," ses Joe, soft-like. "As soon as the
mate sees you there'll be trouble for all of us."
[Illustration: "THE TWO MEN WAS SCROUGED UP IN A CORNER."]
"For all of us," repeats Bill, nodding.
"Whereas," ses Joe, looking round for support, "if we gets up a little
collection for you and you should find it convenient to desart."
"'Ear 'ear," ses a lot o' voices. "Bravo, Joe."
"Oh, desart is it?" ses Bill; "an' where are we goin' to desart to?"
"Well, that we leave to you," ses Joe; "there's many a ship
short-'anded as would be glad to pick up sich a couple of prime
sailor-men as you an' Bob."
"Ah, an' wot about our black faces?" ses Bill, still in the same
sneering, ungrateful sort o' voice.
"That can be got over," ses Joe.
"'Ow?" ses Bill and Bob together.
"Ship as nigger-cooks," ses Joe, slapping his knee and looking round
triumphant.
It's no good trying to do some people a kindness. Joe was perfectly
sincere, and nobody could say but wot it wasn't a good idea, but o'
course Mr. Bill Cousins must consider hisself insulted, and I can only
suppose that the trouble he'd gone through 'ad affected his brain.
Likewise Bob Pullins.
Anyway, that's the only excuse I can make for 'em. To cut a long story
short, nobody 'ad any more breakfast, and no time to do anything until
them two men was scrouged up in a corner an' 'eld there unable to move.
"I'd never 'ave done 'em," ses the carpenter, arter it was all over,
"if I'd known they was goin' to carry on like this. They wanted to be
done."
"The mate'll half murder 'em," ses Ted Hill.
"He'll 'ave 'em sent to gaol, that's wot he'll do," ses Smith. "It's a
serious matter to go ashore and commit assault and battery on the mate."
"You're all in it," ses the voice o' Bill from the floor. "I'm going
to make a clean breast of it. Joe Smith put us up to it, the carpenter
blacked us, and the others encouraged us."
"Joe got the clothes for us," ses Bob. "I know the place he got 'em
from, too."
The ingratitude o' these two men was sich that at first we decided
to have no more to do with them, but better feelings prevailed, and
we held a sort o' meeting to consider what was best to be done. An'
everything that was suggested one o' them two voices from the floor
found fault with and wouldn't 'ave, and at last we 'ad to go up on
deck, with nothing decided upon, except to swear 'ard and fast as we
knew nothing about it.
"The only advice we can give you," ses Joe, looking back at 'em, "is to
stay down 'ere as long as you can."
A'most the fust person we see on deck was the mate, an' a pretty sight
he was. He'd got a bandage round 'is left eye, and a black ring round
the other. His nose was swelled and his lip cut, but the other officers
were making sich a fuss over 'im, that I think he rather gloried in it
than otherwise.
"Where's them other two 'ands?" he ses by-and-by, glaring out of 'is
black eye.
"Down below, sir, I b'lieve," ses the carpenter, all of a tremble.
"Go an' send 'em up," ses the mate to Smith.
"Yessir," ses Joe, without moving.
"Well, go on then," roars the mate.
"They ain't over and above well, sir, this morning," ses Joe.
"Send 'em up, confound you," ses the mate, limping towards 'im.
Well, Joe give 'is shoulder a 'elpless sort o' shrug and walked forward
and bawled down the fo'c's'le.
"They're coming, sir," he ses, walking back to the mate just as the
skipper came out of 'is cabin.
We all went on with our work as 'ard as we knew 'ow. The skipper was
talking to the mate about 'is injuries, and saying unkind things about
Germans, when he give a sort of a shout and staggered back staring. We
just looked round, and there was them two blackamoors coming slowly
towards us.
[Illustration: "'GOOD HEAVENS, MR. FINGALL,' SES THE OLD MAN. 'WHAT'S
THIS?'"]
I never see sich a look on any man's face as I saw on the mate's then.
Three times 'e opened 'is mouth to speak, and shut it ag'in without
saying anything. The veins on 'is forehead swelled up tremendous and
'is cheeks was all blown out purple.
"That's Bill Cousins' hair," ses the skipper to himself. "It's Bill
Cousins' hair. It's Bill Cus----"
Bob walked up to him, with Bill lagging a little way behind, and then
he stops just in front of 'im and fetches up a sort o' little smile.
"Don't you make those faces at me, sir," roars the skipper. "What do
you mean by it? What have you been doing to yourselves?"
"Nothin', sir," ses Bill, 'umbly; "it was done to us."
The carpenter, who was just going to cooper up a cask which 'ad started
a bit, shook like a leaf, and give Bill a look that would ha' melted a
stone.
"Who did it?" ses the skipper.
"We've been the wictims of a cruel outrage, sir," ses Bill, doing all
'e could to avoid the mate's eye, which wouldn't be avoided.
"So I should think," ses the skipper. "You've been knocked about, too."
"Yessir," ses Bill, very respectful; "me and Bob was ashore last
night, sir, just for a quiet look round, when we was set on to by five
furriners."
"_What?_" ses the skipper; and I won't repeat what the mate said.
"We fought 'em as long as we could, sir," ses Bill, "then we was both
knocked senseless, and when we came to ourselves we was messed up like
this 'ere."
"What sort o' men were they?" asked the skipper, getting excited.
"Sailor-men, sir," ses Bob, putting in his spoke. "Dutchies or Germans,
or something o' that sort."
"Was there one tall man, with a fair beard," ses the skipper, getting
more and more excited.
"Yessir," ses Bill, in a surprised sort o' voice.
"Same gang," ses the skipper. "Same gang as knocked Mr. Fingall about,
you may depend upon it. Mr. Fingall, it's a mercy for you you didn't
get your face blacked too."
I thought the mate would ha' burst. I can't understand how any man
could swell as he swelled without bursting.
"I don't believe a word of it," he ses, at last.
"Why not?" ses the skipper, sharply.
"Well, I don't," ses the mate, his voice trembling with passion. "I
'ave my reasons."
"I s'pose you don't think these two poor fellows went and blacked
themselves for fun, do you?" ses the skipper.
The mate couldn't answer.
"And then went and knocked themselves about for more fun?" says the
skipper, very sarcastic.
The mate didn't answer. He looked round helpless like, and see the
third officer swopping glances with the second, and all the men looking
sly and amused, and I think if ever a man saw 'e was done 'e did at
that moment.
He turned away and went below, and the skipper arter reading us all
a little lecture on getting into fights without reason, sent the two
chaps below ag'in and told 'em to turn in and rest. He was so good to
'em all the way 'ome, and took sich a interest in seeing 'em change
from black to brown and from light brown to spotted lemon, that the
mate daren't do nothing to them, but gave us their share of what he
owed them as well as an extra dose of our own.
_Animal Actualities._
NOTE.--_Under this title we intend printing a series of perfectly
authentic anecdotes of animal life, illustrated by Mr. J. A. Shepherd,
an artist long a favorite of_ THE STRAND MAGAZINE. _We shall be glad to
receive similar anecdotes, fully authenticated by names of witnesses,
for use in future numbers. While the stories themselves will be matters
of fact, it must be understood that the artist will treat the subject
with freedom and fancy, more with a view to an amusing commentary than
to a mere representation of the occurrence_.
[Illustration: