THE BARQUE
Henry led the way through the streets until we came to the anchorage
basin beyond the docks. He was talkative enough, but my head ached from
the blow I had received from the man of peace, and I paid little
attention to the fellow’s words.
We passed a large American ship that had been captured by the English
during the war and sold. She loomed up grandly from the small craft
lying near, her long, tapering masts still showing the unmistakable
Yankee rigging, and her yards having yet a vestige of the white American
cloth which has since been a pleasant feature of all our craft. Her
paint was worn off, however, and upon her decks a mongrel crew chattered
away like a pack of monkeys. I halted a moment and looked at her in
disgust.
“What ship is that?” I asked.
“The _Independence_ of Boston. She were taken by the English line ship
_St. Marys_ off Cape St. Roque. She were stove up some. See that big
piece spliced into her stern where she was shot away. Her mainyard’s
fished in two places. Took two whole broadsides to fetch her to, they
say. That trim-lookin’ craft beyond her is the one we’re headin’
fer,--the one laying head on with the foreyards cockbilled.”
We went toward the vessel indicated, and I soon saw what indeed appeared
to be a fine craft. She was large, probably five hundred tons, but she
was barque rigged, with her mainmast stepped well aft. Her foreyards
were lifted to starboard and her main were braced to all angles, giving
her the appearance of having been suddenly deserted by her crew after
making port. Upon the spars the white canvas lay bent and furled, the
clews standing out a foot or two clear of the bunt, and the gaskets hove
in taut as brass bands. Her black sides showed a good freeboard, but I
thought little of this, as nearly all vessels bound to the westward were
going pretty light at that time. She was coppered, and the top band was
a good half-fathom clear of the water. She was pierced for six guns on a
side, and had several more ports painted along the bulwarks on the
main-deck, as was the custom of the day. At a distance she might have
been taken for a vessel of twenty or more guns. Her build was English,
but her rig was Scandinavian, and I noticed her poop was painted white
everywhere except on deck, after the Yankee fashion.
Three heavy boats were slung amidships on booms. Forward of these a
galley was built or lashed upon the deck, and from its window appeared
the black head of an African. We went close to the water’s edge and
Henry hailed.
“Th-war-bull-yah! Ahoy!” he bellowed.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Ha-Yah-Wah, ahoy!” he bellowed again in answer, and the nigger in the
galley waved a white rag in reply.
“May the sharks eat me, you dock wrastler, but that’s a queer name for a
fine ship! How do you call her?” I asked.
“He’s comin’ now,” said Henry, with a grin. “Names is mostly just
sounds, an’ furrin sounds is just like others, only different. We’ll go
aboard her, and you can see the old man an’ settle with him. Don’t be
afraid o’ high pay. He’ll give it.”
In a few minutes a boat left the barque from the side opposite us, where
it had been out of sight. It rounded under her stern and came toward us,
with the nigger standing aft sculling with the peculiar swing of the
Bahama conch. He landed almost at our feet, and Henry motioned me to
jump aboard.
“Ole man aboard, hey?” asked Henry, stepping in after me.
“Yassir, disha boat just done taken him abo’d. He’s done expected mos’
all han’s afo’ dis.”
“Well, take us over,” said Henry, and he settled himself heavily upon a
thwart.
In a short time we were alongside. We clambered up a long hanging ladder
amidships, and then over the rail to the main-deck.
As we did so a venerable, white-haired old fellow stepped out of the
cabin door and greeted us.
Henry took off his cap and bowed with uncommon civility.
“Captain Watkins, allow me to make known Mr.--Mr.--”
“Heywood,” I suggested.
“Mr. Heywood,” continued Henry. “He is the best mate in Havre, an’ is
just off the American ship _Washington_. I knowed you wanted a good
mate, so I brought you the best in town.”
The old fellow held out his hand gravely, and said how glad he was to
make my acquaintance.
“I am just looking for a good navigator, and if you’ll come at my terms,
I’ll reckon we’ll deal.”
I suggested that the terms be made known.
“Well, I reckon on thirty pound a month is all I allow just now. Will
you consider that?”
As this was five times as much as any mate I had ever heard of received,
I told him I would consider the matter closed.
“An’ your friend, here. I take it he is an American, too,--an’ a
sailorman from clew to earring.”
Richards looked at him steadily.
“You are a right smart of a guesser, Mr. Watkins,” said he. “I was
second in the _Washington_, but I’ve been in better ships.”
The insolence of old Peter calling the captain mister was almost too
much for me. Here was a chance of a lifetime. I turned upon him.
“If you are going to act foolish with one drink of ale, just for a
chance to back down, you better get ashore,” I snapped.
“I’ve seen many men more sensible drunk than you are sober, Heywood,”
said he, looking calmly at me, “but I’ll not back down.”
“Will you accept the same terms?” asked the old man, kindly.
Richards looked at him in scorn. Then he spat on the white deck.
“I’ll go,” said he, and Captain Watkins turned to me.
“There is no grog served aboard, and no swearing on this ship, Mr.
Heywood,” said he. “I am an old man, as you see, and wish my crew
orderly and quiet. Do you wish to stay aboard at once?”
I said I would just as soon turn to at once. The rate of pay fairly
frightened me, and I was afraid if I went ashore he might get some one
else in my place. The appearance of the barque was much in her favour.
Her decks were as white as holystone could make them, and her gear was
all new and carefully selected. Such lines seldom found place upon any
ships save men-of-war, and her blocks, with polished brass pins and
sheaves, were marvels to me. I stood idly pulling a topsail brace with
one hand and looking up at the fine rigging, while Henry talked of his
tip for bringing me. Even the sheer-poles were polished brass. The old
fellow finally led us below, and handed Henry a small gold piece, and
then offered me a few pounds in advance, requesting me to sign a receipt
for the same. This I did, and then Henry left, shaking me heartily by
the hand as he went over the side. I returned his grip, for I felt he
had indeed been my friend.
“You may take the port room there, Mr. Heywood, and put your things
shipshape as soon as Henry gets them off your vessel. If the second or
third mate comes aft to see me, don’t fail to call me,--er--er, you know
I’m quite without officers, sir, but will probably have both them and a
crew aboard soon. The papers have not been made out yet, but I believe I
have your receipt for your advance. Witnessed by Henry, it will do, I
suppose, but I am not afraid of you, Mr. Heywood. You don’t look like a
man to take advantage of a ship’s generosity.” Then he went aft, and I
went to the port room. It meant that I was first mate, and I opened the
door with a high heart.
There was nothing at all in the stateroom save an old clay pipe and a
twist of tobacco. The bunk was bare, and I sat upon the edge of it
speculating upon my good fortune. Finally I lit the pipe and smoked. The
smoke wreaths rolled upward, and, as I watched them, I built many
pleasant things in the future.
How long I dreamed I don’t know, but it was quite late in the afternoon
when I heard a hail from the shore that sounded like Henry’s. I went on
deck and met the nigger coming from the galley to the boat. I noticed
what a strapping buck the fellow was, and he saw me watching him.
“Disha hooker’ll have er crew soon. Yassir, she will dat,” said he,
grinning and showing a row of teeth almost as pointed and white as those
of a shark. Then he climbed over the rail, and was soon sculling to the
shore, where I saw Henry and two men waiting.
They came aboard and were ushered into the cabin by the venerable
skipper, whom I had awakened.
“This is Mr. Martin,” said Henry, introducing the first one with the air
of a man presenting a lord. The fellow pulled off his hat and squared
his shoulders, and then looked somewhat disturbed by this mark of
respect. He was clean shaven, with a great broad head set upon an
enormous pair of shoulders. He was short but powerfully built, and his
bright eyes were restless. He was no drunken ship-rat, but a strong,
healthy sailor.
“Mr. Martin, it gives me pleasure to meet you, sir. As I understand you
wish to sign as second mate, I present you to Mr. Heywood, the first
officer,” and he nodded to me with a graceful sweep of the hand. He had
evidently forgotten Richards, but I did not feel inclined to remind him
at that moment.
The fellow looked at me and scowled, at the same time nodding. This sort
of thing was more than he had expected. Then he broke forth in broad
Scotch that he would sign or go ashore.
“Would twenty pound a month do you?” asked the skipper, wistfully.
The fellow did not understand. The amount probably dazed him. Captain
Watkins repeated the offer.
“Weel an’ guid! weel an’ guid!” he cried, slapping his stout leg. “Let’s
have a squint o’ th’ goold.”
“I shall be glad to hand you a few pounds at once in advance,” said the
old skipper. “Please sign this receipt for four pounds,” and so saying,
he produced the money.
The fellow put it in his clothes and signed the paper at once.
His companion stepped up. He was a Swede and blond. His blue eyes were
bleary with liquor, and the old man looked at him and shook his head
sadly.
“No drinkin’ and no swearin’ aboard here, my friend--er--er--”
“Anderson,” said Henry.
“No drinking here, Mr. Anderson. If you’ll accept fifteen pounds a month
and three pounds in advance, just scratch off a receipt and we’ll finish
up and have dinner.”
This was done and the two men saw Henry over the side, giving him, as I
had done, a good tip for his kind interest in getting them such fine
berths. Then the big nigger cleared the table and brought in a very
substantial meal, at which the captain and we mates fell to.
I was not a little astonished at the appearance of Richards. He was all
cleaned up and wore a scarf tied under his newly shaved chin. He was
always neat in appearance, but here he was, without anything apparently
to tog out with, all rigged as fine as though he were going ashore. His
smooth face, sunburned and lined as it was from exposure, seemed to tell
of much hardship in the past. He was a solemn-looking fellow at best,
and to see him togged out in this shape, with his hands washed and old
clothes brushed, was strange. He took his place at the table without a
word.
“You see,” said Captain Watkins, looking at me with his sharp eyes, “I
believe in the equality of all men.”
I nodded, for it was not often the mates and sailors of a ship had a
chance to eat in the forward cabin of a vessel, especially together. The
Scotchman, Martin, eyed the old fellow narrowly. We could not all be
mates.
“One man’s as good as another, and sometimes even better,” said
Richards, softly.
“That’s it. Even a black man is as good as a white one. Some people
don’t think so, but I know it’s so,” said the skipper.
“I’ve seen some I thought better,” said Richards, helping himself to a
piece of boiled meat, “but it don’t keep people from jerking them up for
slaves when they get a chance.”
“I have known slavers,” said the old man, gently, “but they are a rough
set and capable of any crime. On our last voyage one of those fellows
wanted to visit me during a calm, but I was afraid of him and warned him
away. A desperate-looking set they were.”
“Must have frightened you badly,” sneered Richards.
The old skipper looked at the sailor. There was something like sadness
in his voice as he answered.
“I’m of a somewhat timid nature, but cannot help it. I cannot stand
seeing poor coloured folk made to suffer. You will know me better after
you have sailed with me for a voyage.”
I thought I saw just the glimmer of a smile around the corners of his
mouth as he said this, and looked for some reply from my talkative mate.
Richards made no further remark, and the conversation turned to more
sailor-like topics.
We talked rather late, as the skipper was most fatherly in his manner,
and, when the fellow Martin suggested he would go ashore and get his
dunnage, it was found that Henry had taken the boat without the nigger,
and had not sent it back aboard.
“It is of no great consequence, I hope,” said Watkins. “You two, Mr.
Heywood and Richards, may turn in the port room; you, Mr. Martin and Mr.
Anderson, to starboard, and perhaps in the morning I can let you have
the day ashore.”
Then we separated. Richards and I tossed a coin to see who would get the
bunk, and I won. I arranged my coat for a pillow and soon fell asleep,
leaving my roommate to shift for himself on the deck.
Once or twice during the night I thought I heard stealthy footsteps
overhead, and once it seemed to me that the barque was heeling over a
bit. Finally I was awakened by a loud banging at my door, and, springing
up, found it was broad day. Then it suddenly dawned upon me that the
barque was under way.
Opening the door, I found a strange fellow scowling at me. He was
dressed as a common sailor and was a bit drunk.
It is just as well to start discipline right aboard a ship, thought I,
so I hitched my trousers’ belt the tighter before sailing in to show how
an American mate whangs the deviltry and liquor out of a foreign skin
when aroused from pleasant dreams. I noticed the absence of Richards,
but thought he had already turned out for duty. Then I accosted the
fellow and asked softly what he wanted.
“What cher doin’ in my room, yer bloomin’ swine?” he howled. “Git out
an’--”
I had stopped him with a right swing on the jaw, and the next instant we
were loping about that cabin in fine style. In a moment there was a rush
of feet, and something crashed on my head. Then followed stars and
darkness.