CHAPTER XXIV.

When a man makes up his mind to do a certain thing, half the trouble and worry over the matter are things of the past. It makes no difference whether he is able to accomplish his purpose or not, the agonies of vacillation are gone. Over the future he has but little control. Over his present actions he has complete.

There is always a satisfied feeling within a man when he has thought over the matter and decided upon it absolutely in regard to what action he will take.

This was the feeling I possessed during the six weeks I was on the beach, waiting for the return of the Arrow. Mr. Ropesend still had faith in me and I was to take her out on her return from the River Plate.

The matter I had decided upon, however, was not exactly of a nautical nature,{266} and I went to every known friend and acquaintance of Captain Crojack’s to get the information necessary to enable me to accomplish my purpose.

The apathy of the old sailor’s friends shown in the search for his niece galled me. I sometimes felt almost glad that the old man was dead, so he could not see the indifference of people he once thought so much of.

Brown, who was on waiting orders like myself, stayed with me night and day. He did not go to the office, and avoided all other society as much as possible, except when helping me in my search.

In this manner we passed the time until the vessel arrived. Then we took up our quarters on board. I was placed in command, but it was with anything but a feeling of joy that I stepped again on that quarter-deck, so connected with sad memories.

Every plank seemed to recall those terrible days when I was, perforce, a pirate. However, as I said before, a sailor has but{267} little time to indulge in memories, so I shook myself together and started to get ready to put to sea.

Brown I had with me, but, although he had learned a good deal of nautical affairs, it was necessary that the ship should have two experienced men to relieve me. So I set out immediately to find them.

Our adventures had become thoroughly known to all long before this, and Brown and I both suffered from the charity peculiar to nearly all human beings. It was well known that we had joined the convicts, and the busy world had no time to waste discussing any excuse or necessity for our having done so. It was enough that we did it. The sensational newspapers offered a hundred reasons for our having done it,—all of them the worst possible ones,—and the people could take their choice or let them alone. They appeared to let them alone in order to form original ones nearly as bad, that were too unreasonable to bear discussion.

Boarding-house keepers eyed me curiously{268} when I entered their dens. Small knots of rough-looking men gathered and whispered whenever I entered any of the many dives where, I knew from experience, mates were in the habit of going to indulge their hard pleasures. Once or twice personal remarks were made in regard to myself in a tone loud enough for me to hear.

At one bar a big red-faced longshoreman made a jeering allusion to the part I played in joining the men who had taken my ship. It was a foul statement and I felt the blood rush into my face.

Then I turned on the ruffian like a flash.

It was a foolish thing to do, but the talk of so many had rankled in my heart until I lost control of my temper and I felt that I must bear it no longer.

I did not stop to argue the matter and set his reasons for my actions aright, but I lashed out and stretched him stiff on the floor. Then I looked the group over carefully to see if there were any matters of importance I might miss. But they were silent to a man. I turned and walked{269} slowly out of the room and down the street. I was not followed and I soon found myself on the Arrow’s deck with little hope of securing my mates.

It was late in the evening when I returned, and Brown, who had been at work on the ship’s stores, had gone up-town.

There was nothing for him to do on board after knocking off work, so I supposed he had strolled up the street. He had never left me before to go off in the evening alone, but, as we were to sail within the week, I supposed he had some private affairs to attend to.

I finished supper alone and then lit my pipe and strolled along the decks. The question of securing mates I would leave to the office and would trouble myself no more with the matter.

Men were lounging about on the slip between the vessels I passed, and gangs of longshoremen were leaving for the night.

I walked down a slip to where a Norwegian bark was being warped into her berth. She had just arrived and her black{270} sides were gray with crusted salt, telling of a long cruise and careless officers. The men on the t’gallant fo’castle had a line to the capstan and were walking it in with a will to the time of a chorus of hoarse voices.

Soon the vessel fell alongside the slip and I saw the voyage end. Then I turned and walked up the street, thinking of how a man can enjoy life after a six months’ cruise on deep water.

I soon became aware of two men following close behind me, who were talking away at a great rate.

“Yes, but th’ case av mine, it was different,” said one. “They come a-crowdin’ over th’ side like a swarm av rats before I knowed what their lay was. B’ th’ soul of St. Patrick! But didn’t I wade inter thim! Bang! Slam! I must have druv a whole ship’s company inter th’ main-deck like so many trunnels, an’ as fast as I druv thim in their fri’nds would pull thim out, till nigh on to three hunderd av thim hit me a clip on me burgoo case all t’onct{271}—”

“Scutt! ye bloody old red-headed liar; there wasn’t half that many in the whole outfit.”

“’Pon me whurd, for a fact, Garnett, ’tis outrajis th’ way ye have av takin’ an honest man up whin he’s tellin’ a straight yarn. I’ve shifted more’n one man’s ballast for less.”

“Now, by the Great Eternal, if I wasn’t so old an’ stove up I’d make ye prove that, ye braggart,” growled the other; “but never mind, I’m too old to quarrel, as it affects my narvous system enormous. Stick to facts, man, always. I’ve no doubt that you were so scared that you thought they was a thousand. You always was sort o’ timid at times. ’Twas too bad about Bull Gore, though, wasn’t it? I’d never thought to see him come aback all standing like that. But it’s generally the way with folks what always think themselves better’n anybody else.”

“No more would I have thought it, Garnett. T’ think av him turnin’ pirit on one av owld Ropesend’s own ships. ’Tis a quare world an’ honest men ain’t most plentiful{272} hereabouts. Had it been you, I wouldn’t have been surprised, for ye’re little better than an unhung pirit, anyways, by yer own account.”

“S’help me, I’d never disgrace a decent rope with a figgerhead like yourn. What—”

I had turned and stood face to face with old Bill Garnett and O’Toole. The next instant the old mate had grabbed my hand with a hearty grip.

“So it’s you yourself, Mr. Gore,” he bawled, “just turned up while this red-headed heathen was saying pleasant things about you. Blast me, but I am glad to see you, though I wish you had stayed with that gang a little longer. I might ’a’ joined somewhere, and with two such fellows as you and me afloat together, there’s no telling what might have happened in the South Pacific afore the year was out.”

“’Pon me whurd, Mr. Gore, what I said was but th’ truth, an’ it won’t stand atween two old shipmates, even if they don’t happen t’ be agreeable on some principles. Here’s me hand, sir. Ye saved th’ last av th’{273} O’Tooles,” and the honest fellow held out his great carroty fingers, and I grasped them.

“’Tis a fact, ’pon me whurd, ye saved me life, sure, by makin’ thim cast me adrift, though I didn’t thank ye much at th’ time, seein’ a cruise in an open boat ain’t a pleasant trip for a man all alone in th’ calms. Yes, sir, ye saved me, sure, an’ I’m th’ last av thim. There was Reddy, me brother, lost in Chaney with th’ owld man, an’ there was Mike, me own cousin, on th’ West Coast, an’ I’m th’ only one left, an’ ye did save me—”

“Worse luck,” grunted Garnett; “’tis a pity you’re alive to say it, for it was the worst of all his crimes. I could forgive him everything else, but saving you to come back here and talk people to death with your bragging yarns.”

“Tell me,” I said, “how the devil you fellows ever got clear of the scrape.”

“That’s jist about what we would like you to tell us about yourself,” said Garnett, “and maybe you can explain to this low-minded Irishman the reason you were not hung. Come on with us, if you don’t mind watching{274} this beast get drunk. We’re just ashore from that bark there, and we’ve got the night bearing dead ahead till sunrise. I’ll not be responsible for the respectability of the places this red-headed man’s steering for.”

I thought for a moment. I knew well enough that I owed my berth as master of the Arrow solely to the fact that Brown happened to be on board during her last cruise. If I left the matter of hiring mates to the office and had any difficulty with them afterward, it was an even chance that the influence of Mr. Ropesend would cease, and in spite of his friendship I would be on the beach for good and all. While I suspected the influence Brown had with the head of the firm was due to more than friendship, especially after the old man’s remark about my never having been married and having children of my own, yet I was by no means certain of it. Here were two mates I wished to have above all others, anyhow, for I knew them and they were my friends. I could count on Garnett, if he would remain sober enough{275} to talk to, and I made up my mind to take him.

O’Toole I was not so certain about, but I made up my mind to try him. So I went with him up the dirty street to Garnett’s favourite haunts in the neighbourhood of the Battery.

As we walked along the old sailor told how he had been overpowered along with the rest of the crew and guard on the Countess of Warwick, and how the convicts had taken to the boats after setting fire to the ship and leaving the whole ship’s company to burn.

One man had finally burned himself clear, and while badly injured had managed to clear one of his comrades. Then they were all cast loose and set to work to build a raft.

They left the burning ship while the villains were fighting us, and were not discovered by them. A vessel had picked them up the fifth day afterward, and a month later landed them at Cape Town. While waiting there a vessel came in, and off her walked O’Toole. He had been afloat twenty days in{276} the open boat, and was all but dead when rescued. His first desire appeared to be to give Garnett a thrashing for having been the indirect cause of his sufferings, as it was owing to Garnett’s steering that caused the Countess of Warwick to remain in our vicinity for such a long time. Had she been a few miles farther off that night, the convicts would probably not have noticed us. In the end, however, the mates compromised matters by becoming friendly again and sailing together for the States.

When we turned into the street that led past the office, I was astonished to find the lower rooms of that building lit up with a bright light which shone through the closed shutters. It was long after office hours, so, fearing there might be a fire within the building, I stopped and looked about me for the watchman. He was not in sight.

Without waiting any longer I made O’Toole and Garnett raise me on their shoulders until I could peep through the shutters into the room.

The gas was burning brightly, and there{277} at a desk sat Mr. Anderson. He was talking, with flushed face and angry gestures, to Brown, who stood quietly before him.

I couldn’t hear the words well enough to distinguish their meaning, but it was evident that something unusual was being discussed.

“What the devil makes you so long about it—is it a ghost?” asked Garnett, who was getting tired holding half my weight.

“No,” I said, “but it might be one soon if it were you in there,” and little did I think as I joked that my words were almost prophetic.

I came down and told them that Mr. Anderson was in there talking to a man. Nothing more was said about the matter, and we continued on our way.

The little scene I had just witnessed caused me to do some thinking, and before we reached “Old Ben’s,” I decided to see what was taking place in the shipping-office.

“You men meet me here in an hour. I have something important to tell you,” I said, as we reached the tavern door.{278}

“Jest one drink on me,” said Garnett, “before ye go.”

We had one round, and then I left them, both promising to be on hand at the time appointed.