CHAPTER VIII.

During the next week the ship held her course to the eastward, carrying all sail, and as the lumpy gulf clouds disappeared on the western horizon, we hauled to the southward to pick up the northeast trade.

The effects of the storm were no longer visible. The dead sailor we buried the day after we ran out of it. The loss of this man and the one who was swept overboard by the sea that pooped us caused every one to be depressed in spirit for several days. But a man is soon forgotten when he loses the number of his mess. Great and small they drop out, and are never missed long afterward. In a little while the songs and croakings that accompanied an accordion belonging to the starboard watch told plainly that the few tears shed for a lost shipmate among our men were soon dried and forgotten. Miss Waters repeated her visits to the sick sailor when his{90} watch were on deck, and several times I saw her going forward with the third mate, carrying some gruel she had made for him.

Since her remarks to me about having been a sailor and living in a black hole of a fo’castle, she had said little to me. Her mother still kept to her bunk during meal hours, and I had escaped facing her, but the girl’s studied coldness more than outweighed this pleasure.

I could hardly understand why she should object to a man who was a sailor, when her father and grandfather had both worked their way from the fo’castle to the quarter-deck. But, then, the woman’s reasoning, I argued, was peculiar to herself and none the less obstinate for being illogical.

Although I was at first put out of temper by her remarks, I now saw that she devoted her attention almost entirely to young Brown when we were at meals together. This attachment appeared much more fitting for a girl of her years and position.

I cursed myself heartily for being such a fool as to allow her a moment in my thought.{91} What was I but a mate and a man nearly twice her age? In any case, I had no right to expect her to be more than half-civil to me.

As the weather grew warmer, after we picked up the northeast trade, it was pleasant on deck during the hours of the evening dog-watch. Captain Crojack was easy enough on his mates during good weather, so Brown and I got in the habit of sitting on the combings of the after hatch in the evenings smoking and spinning yarns while waiting for eight bells to strike.

Supper always took up nearly half of the two hours, and it was hardly worth while to turn in for the remainder of the watch if the weather was good.

O’Toole thought as the rest of us did upon this subject, for he invariably came on deck after his supper at the second table and smoked a short, black pipe while he spun his yarns.

People often wonder why sailors find it necessary to smoke and lie, after eating a hearty meal of salt junk and hardtack.{92}

It is just as impossible to explain this as it is to tell why coal-heavers, or longshoremen, invariably put the receipts for their truckloads into their hats. It is for some purpose that the sailor is so constituted. Perhaps good, hard, all-around lying promotes the digestion of salt food, by getting the system so thoroughly saturated with deception that the stomach believes the junk fresh. Whatever the purpose, it is probably a good one.

One night we were running along under skysails, with the trade abaft the beam. We heeled over gently and sent the foam-flakes swashing from the sides with a musical, tinkling sound.

The soft hum of the breeze through the rigging, coupled with the regular sound of the water, was very pleasing to the ears of Brown and myself as we lounged on the combings and smoked. It lacked half an hour of eight bells, and then we would relieve O’Toole, who stood at the break of the poop, lazily watching the canvas.

I dozed until the watch was called, and{93} then the second mate roused me and gave the ship’s course, observing:

“’Tis no use av ye goin’ aft whin th’ owld man is there with th’ leddies. He’s in a divil av a timper because I made a remark to th’ man at th’ wheel an’ th’ young gurl an’ her ma heard me. But he’s always finding fault lately an’ something seems t’ be bearing down his mind, an’, by th’ saints, I believe ’tis nothing else than th’ weight av his own opinion.”

“He says you are a devil for story-books and women, O’Toole, and that’s the reason you are such a bad second mate,” I answered, smiling.

But O’Toole didn’t laugh. He appeared thoughtful for some moments, and then said, with great earnestness: “Maybe I am, Mr. Gore, but is it right for th’ owld man to say it? Is it right for a man who’s had a good income and a handsome wife t’ blackguard a poor divil av a mate because he can’t have either, and say that it is his own fault? No, Mr. Gore, I spake for th’ whole crowd av poor divils, like us, what no dacent woman’ll{94} take up with. You may not be a bright man, Mr. Gore, savin’ your prisence, but, by th’ Prophet, I give ye th’ credit av being a just one. But no matter, I’ll say no more.”

He was silent for a few moments, and then broke out afresh:

“Ha! Ha! ’Twas only yisterday, whin they turned th’ roosters an’ hens out on th’ main-deck t’ give thim an airing, that he began t’ pitch into th’ fowls thimselves. He chased a couple av thim from under th’ break av th’ poop, throwin’ a belayin’-pin an’ bawlin’, ‘Git out, ye ornery burds! Have ye got no regard for ayther time, place, or circumstance?’ ’Pon me whurd, ’tis a wonder he didn’t break out his Bible an’ read one av th’ tin commandments t’ thim. It’s a sky-pilot he’s makin’ av th’ owld, rip-roarin’ skipper he used t’ be.”

I went aft and found Crojack talking to the passengers, so, after saying a few words, I made some excuse to go forward again. O’Toole was still sitting on the hatch combings, talking to the third mate. I walked athwartships, under the break of the poop,{95} watching the canvas aloft and at the same time listening to scraps of the conversation.

“Faith, I don’t mind gettin’ th’ blame for me own sins,” he was saying, for he was still sore from Crojack’s faultfinding, “but ’tis the takin’ av other people’s upon mesilf that makes me feel onhealthy. I’ve seen enough av the world t’ know that it don’t pay t’ take overmuch responsibility.

“There was a case av th’ kind happened aboard th’ Eagle, frigate, whin I was captain av th’ maintop, and used t’ teach my fellows how t’ swing a cutlass an’ handle a pistol without making it safer t’ be an inimy than a friend. This, av course, I did whin I was on deck.

“We was in Havana, an’ ’twas hot work drillin’ there, but it wouldn’t have been so bad if th’ owld man hadn’t shut down on th’ beer. As it was, th’ men tried all kinds av ways t’ get th’ stuff on deck from th’ shore. Sometimes they would try and concale it in their clothes, in order to get it aboard, but it was a poor way whin so many was thirsty.{96}

“Finally, th’ bhoys got hold av an idea to float th’ stuff down th’ tideway by th’ keg at night, an’ thin pull it aboard over th’ cat-head whin no one was lookin’.

“There was one divil av a Mike, that was always gettin’ into scrapes, who paid a dago to start a keg one night about eight bells in th’ first watch.

“He was on the lookout for it, an’ got it aboard all safe enough, but th’ officer av th’ deck comin’ for’ard at th’ time, he was forced to concale th’ stuff as quick as he could, an’ he did this by rollin’ th’ stuff into th’ bo’s’n’s locker.

“Ye see, th’ bo’s’n was a dead square and proper man, an’ he niver broke a rule or disobeyed an order; so he thought it was safe.

“Somehow or other, th’ officer, McGraw, wanted a cringle for something, an’ av course he went straight for th’ locker an’ found it.

“Williams was called t’ the mast an’ asked t’ explain how a keg av good beer made its way into his locker.

“Ye see, he had an idea that he must{97} shield th’ feller Mike, who was no good whatever, an’ made more trouble aboard than th’ whole ship’s company besides. So when Captain Broadchin asked th’ question th’ bo’s’n got mighty quiet like, an’ the old man had t’ repeat th’ askin’ more’n onct. He looked awful glum and solemn when he did answer.

“‘Whist!’ sez he, in a deep, pious tone, ‘faith, an’ yer honour, I belave th’ ship’s ha’nted.’

“‘What’s that?’ sez th’ owld man.

“‘Yes, sir,’ sez he. ‘I was walking for’ard, just afore eight bells, whin I see a keg av beer floatin’ in th’ air abaft th’ fore riggin’. I knew ’twas ’gainst orders t’ tech th’ stuff, an’ th’ only way t’ save the boys was to hide th’ keg as soon as it lit on th’ main-deck. How th’ rest av th’ watch missed seein’ the keg floatin’ past th’ fore riggin’ I can’t make out at all, at all. But that’s th’ truth, th’ whole truth, an’ a divil a bit besides th’ truth, s’help me Gawd!’

“Well, ye see, old Broadchin was so well satisfied with th’ explanation that he niver{98} said another whurd, an’ he believed so well that he was a-tellin’ av th’ truth that he clapped him in irons an’ kept him ’tween decks th’ whole av’ th’ cruise.

“Whin he was discharged he was all broke in health, an’ he got good an’ drunk an’ came back t’ say good-bye t’ all hands, for he was a good feller, even in liquor.

“‘Good-bye, O’Toole, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye,’ sez he. An’ thin he shakes hands all around an’ comes aft t’ where th’ officers was sittin’.

“‘Good-bye, Mr. McGraw, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye,’ sez he t’ th’ liftenant. Then he walked up t’ th’ owld man.

“‘Good-bye t’ ye, too, sir,’ sez he. ‘Good-bye, Captain Broadchin, an’ may th’ Lord bless an’ prosper ye, too, sir—but to a damned limited extint!’

“An’ there was a good bo’s’n gone, all because av that Mike. So I made up me mind thin an’ there niver t’ take another man’s sins upon me sowl, nor shield any av his ornery doin’s by mesilf.”

Brown laughed a little at O’Toole’s{99} account, and then said, with more earnestness than I thought the occasion required:

“After all, the bo’s’n did the right thing, for it would have been rather a mean piece of business to have told how the beer came into his possession and gotten the whole watch in trouble.”

“Not a bit av it—it would have saved a good bo’s’n an’ me a lot av rope’s-ending upon th’ hide av that good-for-nothing man, Mike.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” replied Brown, “I don’t think much of a man who won’t shield his friends. Suppose, for instance, you had a good friend or brother, and something occurred that might get him into trouble. Wouldn’t you do what you could to keep him out of it?”

“Now, ’pon me whurd, if ye ain’t entirely out av your reckoning. I’d see him forty fathoms below anywhere at all before I’d risk mesilf.”

Brown rose from the hatch and gave a groan of disgust. Then he went aft on the quarter-deck, and all of that watch he appeared{100} to be thinking over some interesting subject. He was so absorbed that he hardly spoke to me until midnight. Then he gave a sigh of relief, and, as O’Toole came to relieve us, we went below.

I stopped a few moments to take a bite of the salt junk set out on the cabin table for the mates. Afterward, seeing the light in his stateroom, I passed by his open door to see why a third mate should stay awake during his watch below.

There he sat in his bunk, with a great pile of the most flashy police reports of the period on the stool beside him.

“Come in, Mr. Gore,” said he. “I have just made a fine haul of papers. Found them in that quartermaster’s chest this morning. Take one; they are uncommonly interesting,” and he gave me one with an enormous woman in tights pictured on the cover.

“Thanks,” I said. “Good night,” and I went to my room and turned in.