XIII

It is an hour since George the Fourth left me, and I have been

discussing the matter with the Mate. It is a habit of mine to discuss

matters with the Mate. Here is a man with no theories of life, no

culture, as we understand the term, no touch of modern life at all; a

man of apostolic simplicity, having gone down to the sea in ships

since 1867. You can depend on the practicability of his conclusions,

because he has dealt with facts--since 1867. "For," to quote Carlyle,

"you are in contact with verities, to an unexampled degree, when

you get upon the ocean, with intent to sail on it ... bottomless

destruction raging beneath you and on all hands of you, if you

neglect, for any reason, the methods of keeping _it_ down and making

it float you to your aim!"

"'Tis a hard life, Mr. McAlnwick, an' we've just got to make the best

of it."

"But, Mr. Honna, what is the best of it?"

"This! Give us your glass. One more, an' Nicholas is makin' a

Stonewall Jackson in the panthry. He'll be in in a minute."

In a minute Nicholas arrives with a jug. Nicholas is the Steward, at

sea since '69, a bronzed Greek from Salonika, a believer in dreams and

sound investments at six per cent. He brings in a _Lloyd's News_,

arrived by the last mail.

"Ah!" The Mate is certainly making the best of it. What are the exact

components of the drink I cannot determine, but the resultant is

without blemish; eggs, milk, brandy, rum--all these are in it, and the

Mate's tongue loosens.

"Have you seen this about ze _Lorenzo_, mister?" asks Nicholas.

"What's that?"

Nicholas (reading): "'Ze _Lorenzo_, bound from New Yawk to Cuba with

coke, met with heavy gales off Cape Hatteras, and has put back into

Norfolk in a disabled condition. Two blades of her propeller are

broken, and she is leaking badly amidships. She is to undergo a

special survey before proceeding further.'"

The Mate's visage is wrinkled, his mouth is pursed up as he sets down

his glass and adjusts his spectacles to read, and he nods his head.

"See, now, 'tis two years, two years an' a half, since I left her.

Nicholas, you were there then, were ye not?"

"Ess, mister. She was on the Western Ocean trade then, too."

"Aye! Lumber out o' St. John's to Liverpool." He lays down the paper.

"Mr. McAlnwick, now wait while I tell ye. Ye talk of honesty at sea? I

joined that ship in Glasgow, an' we signed on for the voy'ge, winter

North Atlantic. General cargo for St. John's, Newf'unlan', with deals

to bring back to Liverpool. And, though _you_ may consider me

superstitious, not havin' been long at sea" (Nicholas stands, legs

apart, glass in hand, head nodding sagely), "not havin' been long at

sea, I say, 'twas the Second and Fourth engineers who brought us black

luck!"

"How, Mr. Honna?"

"This way. Nicholas, sit ye down and listen. I was Mate, as I am here.

I went up from London and joined her, an' the Chief, who's here now,

was thick as thieves with the old man, an' was courtin' the youngest

daughter, tho' he never married her--_he_ came to lay down the law to

me. There was a spare stateroom for'ard of the alley-way, port side.

The door was locked, an' I wanted it open. Ses he, ''Tis locked.' Ses

I, 'I want it open.' Ses he, 'Who are you?' Ye know his way, Mr.

McAlnwick? Ses I, 'I'm the Mate o' this ship, an', by Gawd, if that

door isn't opened smart, ye're a better man than I am.' And I took off

me coat. 'Oh,' ses he, ''tis all right, mister, I'll have it opened.'

Ye see, there was women aboard, an' the Second and Fourth were

responsible."

"They were inside!" snickers Nicholas, looking at his cigar

reminiscently.

"They was, Mr. McAlnwick. 'Twas scandalous--that Chief, too,

trapesin' away out to Scotstoun Hill every evenin' to play cards an'

shilly-shally, while his juniors had loose females aboard the ship.

Well, we put out, made St. John's in sixteen days, and discharged in a

fortn't. 'Twas there the Second an' Fourth began again, but they took

me in. I came on deck one Saturday afternoon, the old man being

ashore, and saw two females, with sealskin muffs and furred spats,

lookin' roun' the poop an' liftin' their skirts over the ropes, for

all the world like real ladies. An' I treated them as such, never

thinkin' what they were, for to me a lady's a lady, an' I know how to

behave to them. But the Second Mate stopped me as I was showin' 'em

over all, and ses he, 'D'yer know what she is, Mr. Honna?' pointin'

to the one with a heliatrope blouse under her jacket."

There is another snicker from Nicholas, and the Mate goes on:

"I would _not_ believe it, Mr. McAlnwick. I've had my weaknesses, I

have some now, or I would not be Mate of this ship. But I've never

insulted my employers by makin' a--a bloomin' _seraglio_ o' the ship,

nor have I ever seen it done without bringin' black luck. Now, wait

till I tell ye. The nex' mornin', being on deck at seven o'clock, I

saw the Second and Fourth racin' up the dock. Their collars were loose

at the back, an' their waistcoats were all out o' gear, an' they'd

made hat-bands o' their ties. Mr. McAlnwick, ye may laugh, but they

were a disgrace to the ship!

"Well, we put out o' St. John, deck-loaded with deals, in a fog, and

we stayed in a fog for three days. We were all among the ice, too, an'

that afternoon I came on deck to relieve Mr. Bruce, the Second Mate.

The old man had her in an ice-lane, goin' full speed. Ses I, 'She's

goin' fast, sir.' 'Oh,' ses he, 'she steers better so.' 'Ay,' ses I,

'but if she hits anything, she will--hit it.' A minute after, he come

up out o' the fog, an' ses he, 'Stop her, Mr. Honna, stop her!' I'd

me hand on the telegraph and me eye on the foc'sle head when she

struck--bang! An' all the canvas caps on the foc'sle ventilators blew

up an' went overboard. We'd hit a cake. The Second Mate ran out of

his berth in his shirt-sleeves, and went for'ard, an' I followed him.

There she was, her nose crunched into a low-lyin' cake not two feet

above the waterline. I kept all my spare gear in the fore-peak, an'

the Second Mate went down to--to reconnoitre. ''Tis all right,

mister,' ses he. ''Tis all right here.' Ses I, 'I don't think, Mr.

Bruce, I don't think!' An' when I went down an' put me foot on those

piles of rope an' bolts of canvas, they went down, all soft, under me.

Ye understand? Oh, I knew there was somethin', rememberin' those

flighty women, an' the foc'sle bonnets blowin' off. The water had

rushed into the fore-peak, an' had driven the air up, ye see.

"Well, we put her full astern and drew away, and then we put back into

St. John, slow, dead slow, all the way. An' there the Second Engineer

saw a doctor, an' the one in the heliatrope blouse saw a ghost!"

"Ess, 'e come up be'ind 'er, an'----"

"Now, hold yer horses, Nicholas, hold yer horses! Ye see, Mr.

McAlnwick, when a woman has seen a man aboard of a ship, an' she's

seen that ship hull down, or, what's the same thing, swallowed up in

the fog, she writes him off, so to speak. 'Poor feller,' ses she,

'he's at sea,' just as we say, 'Poor feller, he's in the churchyard.'

An' so, when that woman felt someone touch her on the arm in Main

Street, and turned an' found it was the Second Engineer, she gave a

shriek like a lost soul, an' fainted on the sidewalk. So it happened.

Now listen. Help yourself, Nicholas.

"We had a wooden bow put on, which took a week, an' we started again.

Two days out it fell off, and we went back into St. John for the third

time, an' had another fitted. I took the opportunity then of havin' a

word with the Second, while we were makin' her fast. 'Mr. Carson,' ses

I, 'air ye satisfied?' He knew what I meant, for he came from

Carrickfergus, an' the Lady's Fever had him hard. 'Aye, mister,' ses

he. ''Tis all right; I'll see her no more,' ses he. An' our luck

turned. We had another bow fitted, an' we came across the Western

Ocean, half-speed, an' made her fast in the Canada Dock."

"Is that all, Mr. Honna?"

"No, no," says Nicholas, with another reminiscent giggle. "No, mister,

the Super, 'e comes down, an' 'e----"

"Hold yer horses, now, Nicholas; hold yer horses, and let Jack Honna

tell this yarn. Mr. McAlnwick, I said I'd show ye honesty as practised

in the Mercantile Marine. Now listen. The Super--that's Mr. Fallon, as

ye know--came down into my berth. 'Mornin', Honna'--ye know his way;

but he seemed anxious an' fidgety. Of course, I knew without tellin'

how she was insured. Ye see, mister, the _Lorenzo_ an' the _Julio_

an' the _Niccolo_ an' the _Benvenuto_ here are insured against _total

loss_, an' if we went on that reef to-night, Messrs. Crubred, Orr, and

Glasswell 'ud drink champagne to it an' book our half-pay in tobacco

and stamps. But then--ah, Mr. McAlnwick, then it was different. The

_Lorenzo_ was insured against accidents to the tune o' three thousand

pound sterling, provided--_provided_, ye understand, that repairs came

up to that figure. An' that was why Mr. Fallon looked worried."

"Why, Mr. Honna?" The Mate's voice drops to a whisper.

"Why, don't ye see, mister? But ye've not been long at sea. Because

he'd totted up all the indents, an' added all he reasonably could on

the bow plates an' stringers _plus_ a new double bottom to the

forehold, an' _then_ he could only make it come to about twenty-four

hundred pound. 'What's to be done, Honna?' ses he, rappin' it out.

'What's to be done?' ses I, as if I was astonished. 'What d'ye mean,

Mr. Fallon?' Ses he, ''Tis a dead loss--a dead loss, Honna.' Ses I, 'I

don't understand, sir.' And I looked him in the eye. 'She's not hurt,'

ses he, snappin'. 'She's not hurt at all.' 'Oh,' ses I, 'is that all?

Why not _hurt_ her, then--hurt her?' An' I got up to go out. 'Oh,' ses

he, 'we can't have that--we can't have that. Where's that indent?' And

we went on deck. Well, I went up to the office that afternoon he came

over, an' he ses in a hurry, 'Honna, yer wife's comin' up to-night, ye

said?' (The little man never forgets anythin', as perhaps ye've

noticed.) 'Yes,' ses I, 'she is.' 'Then go an' meet her,' ses he. 'Go

an' meet her.' 'What?' ses I. 'Leave the ship, with her goin' into

dry-dock to-morrer an' no cap'en aboard?' 'Damn the ship,' ses he.

'Damn the ship! _I'll_ look after the ship. Go an' see yer wife.' Mr.

McAlnwick, when I got outside I laughed. An' when I got to Lime

Street, and told my girl about Fallon damnin' the ship, she laughed

too. It must have been eleven o'clock when I left the hotel an' went

down to the docks. When I got there she was in dry-dock. The Super had

issued orders that s.s. _Lorenzo_ was to be dry-docked _after dark_,

an' I saw that our luck was in. The Second Engineer was standin' by

the ladder as I climbed over the side, an' ses he, solemn-like, 'Mr.

Honna, I've been to see a doctor this night, an' I'm all right now.

I'll see her no more.' 'Of course ye're all right!' ses I, chucklin',

'an' so's the _Lorenzo_. Come down an' have somethin'.' 'What are they

doin'?' ses he. 'I was below this five minutes, an' I thought the

bottom was comin' in.' 'Repairs,' ses I, wavin' me hand. 'Repairs.

Come down.' An' we went. 'Twas half-past one when we got down on the

dock side an' peeped under. An' when we'd done laughin' we turned in.

"Well, I went down into the dock nex' mornin', an' the Surveyor was

there with Mr. Fallon. He was a youngish man, an' probably he's learnt

a good deal since that day, but he was just the feller for us. The

Super introduced us, an' ses he, 'Mr. Honna will corroborate what I

say, Mr. Blythe.' The Surveyor turned to look at the ship's bottom,

and it was lucky he did, for me jaw was hangin'. Mr. McAlnwick, they'd

had the hydraulic jacks under her, an' they'd pushed her to kingdom

come! She was bent to the very keelson. Not a straight plate from stem

to stern. 'It's marvellous, Mr. Honna!' ses the Surveyor. 'It's

marvellous! How in the worrld did ye come home?' 'How?' ses I,

laughin'. 'On our hands and knees, to be sure, mister.' 'Dear me!' he

ses. 'Dear me!' 'Aye,' ses I. 'An' she steered to a hair, too!' And I

went for'ard to look at her bows. He was a young man, an' I felt sorry

for him, but our luck was in. Mr. Fallon came down into my room that

afternoon, as I was puttin' on me shore clothes, an' ses he, 'Honna,

did ye see yer wife?' 'I did, sir,' ses I. 'Is she all right?' ses he.

'No,' ses I; 'she's frettin'.' 'What's the matter wi' her?' he snaps,

sittin' down where you are now. 'What?' ses I, an' I stopped as I was

fixin' me collar. 'She thinks I ought to have a new hat, Mister

Fallon.' An' I looked him in the eye. 'Oh!' ses he in his sharp way.

'Get five new hats--get five new hats. Have the ship ready to be moved

to-morrow night. She will be discharged, and redocked for--extended

repairs. Good-day,' ses he, an' he went out. An' when I looked where

he'd been sittin' there was a five-poun' note in an envelope, stickin'

in the cushion."

"Did you see your wife again, Mr. Honna?"

"I did, Mr. McAlnwick, an' she pinched me black an' blue! An' when we

were walkin' through the city that evenin' I saw the Second Engineer

followin' a sealskin jacket along Paradise Street, and I felt glad he

was leavin' to go up for his ticket."

"Is that all, Mr. Honna?" The Chief Officer's face is screwed up, his

glasses are on the end of his nose (how like my old Headmaster he

looks now!), and he scrutinizes the Steward's newspaper once more.

"All, Mr. McAlnwick? Apparently not, by this. Mr. Fallon'll be down to

see her, for he's goin' across to see the _Giacopo_, I know, an', by

thunder, he'll fix her! Never seen him in a fix yet. Eh, Nicholas?"

"Ah, he's a sharpun, by God!" This from the fervent Nicholas.

"Ses he, first thing when he put his fut on the deck when we

brought the _Ludovico_ into Shields from Nikolaeff, ses he, 'Honna,

look at them slack funnel stays; Honna, look at that spare propeller

shaft, not painted; Honna, don't keep pigs on the saddle-back

bunker-hatch--'tis insanitary.' Honna this, that, and the other all in

one breath. And we'd had the blessed stern torn out of her, runnin'

foul o' the breakwater, to say nothin' of pickin' up the telegraph

cable with our anchor outside Constant!"

"Mr. Honna, tell me----"

"To-morrow, mister, to-morrow. 'Tis late, and I would turn in."

And so we end our day.