An Ocean Tramp Part 5

George nods. He understands exactly what is meant. His father is skipper of a collier, his brother is in a steel works. Probably he and I know, better than John Ruskin, how rough work "takes the life out of us." But when I continue, and read to him what the wise man teaches concerning justice to men, and never-failing knight-errantry towards women, and love for natural beauty, even awe-struck George becomes slightly sardonic, and his mouth comes down at the corners. Let me formulate his thoughts. He is asking how can one be just when the work's _got_ to be done, and blame _must_ fall on somebody's shoulders? How can one feel and act rightly towards women when one is young, yet compelled to live a life of alternate celibacy and licence? How can one love nature, even the sea, when the engine-room temperature is normally 90 F., and often 120 F., when the soul cries out against the endless rolling miles? Wise of the world, give answer!

We two poor rough toilers sit at your feet and wait upon your words.

You will see, now, why I want George the Fourth to fall in love. But with whom is he to fall in love? Who courts the society of a sailor in a foreign port? Seamen's bethels? Ah, yes! The gentle English ladies in foreign ports are very sympathetic, very kind, very pleasant, at the Wednesday evening concert in the rebuilt Genoese palace or the deserted Neapolitan hotel, or the tin tabernacle amid the white sand and scrub; but they take good care to keep together at the upper end of the room, and the audience is railed off from them if possible, while the merry girls outside, who live shameful lives, and whose existence is ignored by the missionary, link their arms in George's and take him to their cosy little boxes high up behind those beautiful green blinds....

"It's a h.e.l.l of a life, but we've just got to mak' the best of it,"

says George, and he lounges off to join the talk in the Second's room.

I, too, sigh when he is gone. The best of it! Are these heroes of mine right after all?

"_Then wherefore sully the entrusted gem Of high and n.o.ble life with thoughts so sick?

Why pierce high-fronted honour to the quick For nothing but a dream?_"

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 s.h.i.+ps 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 gla.s.s. 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 c.o.ke, 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 amids.h.i.+ps. 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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p 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 superst.i.tious, not havin' been long at sea" (Nicholas stands, legs apart, gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p, 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'

s.h.i.+lly-shally, while his juniors had loose females aboard the s.h.i.+p.

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 Sat.u.r.day afternoon, the old man being ash.o.r.e, and saw two females, with sealskin m.u.f.fs and furred spats, lookin' roun' the p.o.o.p 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 s.h.i.+p. But I've never insulted my employers by makin' a--a bloomin' _seraglio_ o' the s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p!

"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 s.h.i.+rt-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 s.h.i.+p, an' she's seen that s.h.i.+p 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 Gla.s.swell '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 s.h.i.+p, with her goin' into dry-dock to-morrer an' no cap'en aboard?' 'd.a.m.n the s.h.i.+p,' ses he.