The Brassbounder Part 10

X

THE DIFFICULTY WITH THE 'TORREADOR'S'

In the half-deck differences, sometimes leading to fisticuffs, were of daily occurrence; but, considering that we were boys, drawn from all parts, each with his town or county's claim to urge, we dwelt very happily together. Though our barque was Scotch, we were only two strong, and at times it was very difficult to keep our end up, and impress our Southron s.h.i.+pmates with a proper sense of our national importance. The voice of reason was not always pacific, and on these occasions we could but do our best. Our Jones (of Yorks.h.i.+re) was of a quarrelsome nature; most of our bickers were of his seeking, and to him our strained relations with the 'Torreador's' was mainly due.

The _Torreador_ had berthed next to us at Mission Wharf, and by the unwritten laws of the sea and the customs of the port of San Francisco, her crew should have fraternised with us; from the mates (who could exchange views on the sizes of rope and the chances of promotion) down to the younger apprentices (who should have visited one another to 'swap' s.h.i.+p's biscuit). With other s.h.i.+ps matters might have been arranged, but the _Torreador_ was a crack s.h.i.+p, and flew the blue ensign, even on week-days; her captain was an F.R.A.S., and her boys (whose parents paid heavy premiums for the glitter) wore bra.s.s b.u.t.tons to everyday work, and were rated as mids.h.i.+pmen, no less! The day after her arrival some of them were leaning over the rail looking at our barque, and acquaintance might have been made then and there, but Jones (who fancied himself a wit) spoiled the chances of an understanding by asking them if the stewardess had aired their socks properly that morning. Such a question aroused great indignation, and for over a fortnight we were 'low bounders,' and they 'kid-glove sailors.'

Matters went ill between us, and our s.h.i.+ps were too close together to ignore one another altogether. The 'Torreador's' contented themselves with looking smarter and more aggressively clean than ever, and with casting supercilious glances all over us when they saw us chipping and sc.r.a.ping the rust off our vessel's topside--(they never got such jobs to do, as their Old Man was too busy cramming them up with "Sumners"

and "Deviation Curves"). We replied by making stage asides to one another on the methods of 'coddling sickly sailors,' and Jones even went the length of arraying himself in a huge paper collar when he was put over-side to paint s.h.i.+p. A brilliant idea, he thought it, until the Mate noticed him, and made his ears tingle till sundown.

The 'Torreador's' kept a gangway watch, and one of his duties seemed to be to cross the deck at intervals and inspect our barque, crew, and equipment in a lofty manner. He would even (if his Mate--the Chief Officer, they called him--wasn't looking) put his hands in his beckets and his tongue in his cheek. At first we greeted his appearance with exaggerated respect; we would stand to attention and salute him in style; but latterly, his frequent appearances (particularly as he always seemed to be there when our Mate was recounting our misdeeds, and explaining what lazy, loafing, ignorant, and 'sodgering' creatures he had to handle) got on our nerves.

Matters went on in this way for over a week, and everybody was getting tired of it; not only on our s.h.i.+p, for one day we caught a 'Torreador'

openly admiring our collection of sharks' tails which we had nailed to the jib-boom. When he found himself observed he blushed and went about some business, before we had a chance to ask him aboard to see the sharks' backbones--fas.h.i.+oned into fearsome walking-sticks. Up town we met them occasionally, but no one seemed inclined to talk, and a 'barley' was as far away as ever. If we went to the Inst.i.tute they were to be seen lolling all over the sofas in the billiard-room, smoking cigarettes, when, as everyone knows, a briar pipe is the only thing that goes decently with a bra.s.s-bound cap, tilted at the right angle. They did not seem to make many friends, and their talk among themselves was of matters that most apprentices ignore. One night Jones heard them rotting about 'Great Circle sailing,' and 'ice to the south'ard of the Horn,' and subjects like that, when, properly, they ought to be criticising their Old Man, and saying what an utter duffer of a Second Mate they had. Jones was wonderfully indignant at such talk, and couldn't sleep at night for thinking of all the fine sarcastic remarks he might have made, if he had thought of them at the time.

When our barque, by discharge of cargo, was risen in the water, we were put to send the royal-yards down on deck, and took it as a great relief from our unsailorly harbour jobs. The 'Torreador's,' with envious eyes, watched us reeving off the yard ropes. They had a Naval Reserve crew aboard to do these things, and their seamans.h.i.+p was mostly with a model mast in the half-deck. They followed all the operations with interest, and when Hansen and Eccles got the main royal yard on deck, in record time, they looked sorry that they weren't at the doing.

"Sumners" and "Deviation Curves" are all very well in their way, but a seamanlike job aloft, on a bright morning, is something stirring to begin the day with. A clear head to find one's way, and a sharp hand to unbend the gear and get the yard canted for lowering; then, with a glance at the fore (where fumblers are in difficulties with their lifts), the prideful hail to the deck, "All clear, aloft! Lower away!"

No wonder the 'Torreador's' were not satisfied with their model mast!

Some days later we got another chance to show them how things were done aloft, and even if we were not so smart at it as we might have been, still it was a fairly creditable operation for some boys and a sailorman. Our main topgal'nmast was found to be 'sprung' at the heel, and one fine morning we turned-to to send the yard and mast down. This was rather a big job for us who had never handled but royal-yards before; but under the able instructions of the Mate and Bo'sun, we did our work without any serious digression from the standards of seamans.h.i.+p. The Mate wondered what was making us so uncommon smart and attentive, but when he caught sight of the 'Torreador's' watching our operations with eager eyes, he understood, and even spurred us on by shouting, "_Mister!_" (the boys of the _Torreador_ were thus addressed by their Officers) "_Mister_ Hansen, please lay out 'n the topsl-yard, 'n unhook that b.l.o.o.d.y brace!"

At dusk the 'Torreador's' had stiff necks with looking aloft so much, and when we knocked off, with the yard and mast on deck, and the gear stopped-up, they went below and hid their elaborate model mast under a bunk in the half-deck.

Soon after this a better feeling began. Eccles met one of the 'Torreador's' up-town, and an acquaintance was made. They spent the evening together, and he learned that the other chap came from near his place. [It was really about fifty miles from there, but what's a fifty miles when one is fourteen thousand miles from home?] The next evening two of them came across. "To see the s.h.i.+p," they said. They brought briar pipes with them, which was rather more than we could reasonably have expected. Thereafter nightly visits were the rule, and we became as thick as thieves. We took them to our bosom, and told them of many fresh ways to rob the store-room, though they had no need to go plundering, theirs being a well-found s.h.i.+p. We even went the length of elaborating a concerted and, as we afterwards found, unworkable scheme to get even with a certain policeman who had caught our Munro a clip on the arm with his club when that youngster was singing "Rule Britannia"

along the Water Front at half-past midnight. In the evenings our respective commanders could be seen leaning across their p.o.o.p rails, engaged in genial conversation, addressing one another as "Captain" in the middle of each sentence with true nautical punctiliousness.

Once the 'Torreador's' Old Man seemed to be propounding his views on the training of apprentices with great earnestness. What he said we could not hear, but our Old Man replied that he had work enough "---- to get the young 'sodgers' to learn to splice a rope, cross a royal-yard, and steer the s.h.i.+p decently, let alone the trouble of keeping them out of the store-room," and that he'd "---- nae doot but they'd learn navigation ---- in guid time!"

The elder boys went picnicing on the Sundays to Cliff House or Saucilito; the second voyagers played team billiards together at the Inst.i.tute, and proposed one another to sing at the impromptu concerts; while the young ones--those who had only been a dog-watch at sea--made themselves sick smoking black tobacco and talking 's.h.i.+p-talk' in the half-deck.

Thus we fraternised in earnest, and when the _Torreador_ left for Port Costa to load for home we bent our best ensign (though it was on a week-day), and cheered her out of the berth.

Next week a Norwegian barque took up her vacant place. She had come out from Swansea in ninety-eight days, and was an object of interest for a while. Soon, though, we grew tired of the daily hammering of 'stock-fish' before breakfast, and the sight of her Mate starting the windmill pump when the afternoon breeze came away. We longed for the time when we, too, would tow up to Port Costa, for we had a little matter of a race for s.h.i.+p's gigs to settle with the 'Torreador's' and were only waiting for our Captains to take it up and put silk hats on the issue.

XI

THE 'CONVALESCENT'

Welsh John was discharged from hospital at ten on a Sunday morning; before dark he was locked up, charged with riotous behaviour and the a.s.saulting of one Hans Maartens, a Water Front saloon keeper. A matter of strong drink, a weak head, and a maudlin argument, we thought; but Hansen saw the hand of the 'crimps' in the affair, and when we heard that sailormen were scarce (no s.h.i.+ps having arrived within a fortnight), we felt sure that they were counting on John's blood-money from an outward-bound New Yorker.

"Ye see, John hadn't money enough t' get drunk on," he said. "We saw him in hospital last Sunday, an' Munro gave him a 'half' to pay his cars down t' th' s.h.i.+p when he came out. Half-dollars don't go far in 'sailor-town.' I guess these sharks have bin primin' him up t' get 'm s.h.i.+pped down th' Bay. The _J. B. Grace_ has been lyin' at anchor off The Presidio, with her 'Blue Peter' up this last week or more, an'

n.o.body 's allowed aboard 'r ash.o.r.e but Daly an' his gang. Maartens is in with 'em, an' the whole thing 's a plant to shanghai John. Drunk or no' drunk, John 's seen th' game, an' plugged th' Dutchman for a start."

As it was on Munro's account that he had come by the injuries that put him in hospital, we felt more than a pa.s.sing interest in John's case, and decided to get him clear of the 'crimps' if we could. We knew he would be fined, for saloon-keepers and boarding-masters are persons of weight and influence in 'Frisco town, and, although John had nearly eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort of confession of Jack's importance, for the Captain to disburse on his account. It being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few dollars among us, so we applied to James Peden, a man of substance on the Front, for a.s.sistance and advice.

James was from Dundee. After a varied career as seaman, whaleman, boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of stevedores. He was an office-bearer of the local Scottish Society, talked braid Scots on occasions (though his command of Yankee slang when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans.

To James we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his 'boy-ees made things hum.' It was rather a delicate matter to do this properly, as we had to leave it to inference that James's knowledge of these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of shady doings. It was nicely done, though, and James, recalling a parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic.

"Weel, lauds, Ah guess Joan Welsh 'r Welsh Joan 'll be ootward bound afore the morn's nicht. They'll pit 'm up afore Judge Kelly, a bluidy Fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a British sailorman alane. Pluggin' a Dutchman 's naethin'; it's th'

'Rid Rag' that Kelly's doon oan. Ah ken the swine; he touched me twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug--an ill-faured Dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. Ah guess there's nae chance for a lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. Noo, withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer Captain 's no'

gaun tae pey 't. Wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's s.h.i.+p bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n Ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this Joan Welsh.

This is whaur Daly 'll come in. He'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th' chance o' a spree. Daly 'll pey th' fine, gae yer man a nicht's rope fur a maddenin' drunk, an'

s.h.i.+p 'm on th' New-Yorker i' th' mornin'. There's nae help for't; that's th' wey they dae things oot here; unless maybe ye'd pey th' fine yersels?"

This was our opportunity, and Munro asked for a loan till next week.

He explained the state of our purses and the uselessness of applying to the Captain so early in the week; James was dubious. Munro urged the case in homely Doric; James, though pleased to hear the old tongue, was still hesitating when Munro skilfully put a word of the Gaelic here and there. A master move! James was highly flattered at our thinking he had the Gaelic (though never a word he knew), and when Munro brought a torrent of liquid vowels into the appeal, James was undone. The blood of the Standard Bearer of the Honourable Order of the Scottish Clans coursed proudly through his veins, and, readjusting his tartan necktie, he parted with fifteen dollars on account.

Now a difficulty arose. It being a working day, none of us would get away to attend the Court. We thought of Old Martin, the night watchman. As he slept soundly during three-fifths of his night watch, it was no hards.h.i.+p for the old 'sh.e.l.lback' to turn out, but he wasn't in the best of tempers when we wakened him and asked his a.s.sistance.

"Yew boys thinks nuthin' ov roustin' a man out, as 'as bin on watch awl night." (Martin was stretched out like a jib downhaul, sound asleep on the galley floor, when we had come aboard on Sunday night). "Thinks nuthin' at awl ov callin' a man w'en ye ain't got no d.a.m.n business to.... W'en Ah was a boy, it was ropesendin' fer scratchin' a match in fo'cas'le, 'n h.e.l.l's-hidin' fer speakin' in a Dago's whisper!"--Martin sullenly stretched out for his pipe, ever his first move on waking--"Nowadays boys is men an' men 's old.---- W'y"--Martin waved his little black pipe accusingly--"taint only t' other day w'en that there Jones lays out 'n th' tawps'l yardarm afore me 'n mittens th'

b.l.o.o.d.y earin' 's if awl th' sailormen wos dead!" His indignation was great, his growls long and deep, but at last he consented to do our errand--"tho' ain't got no use for that d.a.m.ned Welshman meself!"

Arrayed in his pilot cloth suit, with a sailorlike felt hat perched rakish on his hard old head, old Martin set out with our fifteen dollars in his pocket, and his instructions, to pay John's fine and steer clear of the 'crimps.' We had misgivings as to the staunchness of our messenger, but we had no other, and it was with some slight relief that we watched him pa.s.s the nearest saloon with only a wave of his arm to the bar-keeper and tramp st.u.r.dily up the street towards the City.

At dinner-time neither John nor Old Martin had rejoined the s.h.i.+p. We thought, with misgiving, that a man with fifteen dollars in his becket would be little likely to remember the miserly meal provided by the s.h.i.+p, and even Browne (the Mark Tapley of our half-deck) said he shouldn't be surprised if the 'crimps' had got both John and Old Martin (to say nothing of our fifteen dollars). As the day wore on we grew anxious, but at last we got news of the absentees when Peden pa.s.sed, on his way out to the Bay. The sentimental Scotsman of the morning had thought a lot after his liberal response to Munro's appeal, and had called round at the Police Court to see that the affair was genuine.

He was now in his right senses; a man of rock, not to be moved even by a mention of Burns's 'Hielan' Mary,' his tartan tie had slipped nearly out of sight beneath the collar of his coat, and the hard, metallic tw.a.n.g of his voice would have exalted a right 'down-easter.'

"Yewr man was 'up' w'en Ah got raound," he said, "up before Kelly, 's Ah reckoned. Ah didn't hear the chyarge, but thyar was th' Dutchman with 's head awl bandaged up--faked up, Ah guess. Th' Jedge ses t' th'

prisoner, 'Did yew strike this man?' Yewr man answers, 'Inteed to goodness, yer 'anner, he looks 's if somebody 'd struck 'm!' Wi' that a laugh wint raound, an' yewr man tells 's story." (James's Doric was returning to him, and the tw.a.n.g of his "u's" became less p.r.o.nounced.) "He had bin in hospital, he said, wasn't very strong--here th' Dutchman looks up, wonderin' like--had ta'en a drap o' drink wi' a man he met in 'sailor-town.' There wis talk aboot a joab ash.o.r.e, an' they were in Mertin's tae see aboot it, an' yer man sees this Mertin pit somethin'

i' th' drink. He didna like the looks o't, he said, so he ups an' gies Mertin yin on th' heid wi' a 'schooner' gless. That wis a' he kent aboot it, an' th' Dutchman begood his yarn. Oot o' his kind-hertedness, he'd gie'n th' pris'ner a gless or twa, fower at th'

maist, when th' thankless villain ups an' ca's 'm names an' belts 'm on th' heid wi' a gless. 'Pit drugs i' th' drink?' Naethin' o' th' kind!

He wis jist takin' a fly oot o't wi' the haunle o' a spune.

"A bad business, says Kelly, a bad business! There's faur too miny av thim British sailormin makin' trouble on th' Front. It's tin dallars, says he, tin dallars 'r fourteen days!

"Ah saw Daly git up frae th' sate an' he his a long confab wi' yer man, but jist then yer auld watchman tramps in, an' efter speirin' aboot he ups an' peys th' fine, an' they let yer man oot. Ah seen th' twa o'

them gang aff wi' Daly, an' Ah couldna verra weel ha'e onythin' tae dae wi' them when he wis bye."

This was James's news; he was not surprised to learn that they had not returned to the s.h.i.+p, and, as he pa.s.sed on, on his way to the jetty steps, muttered, "Weel, it's a gey peety they had that five dollars ower much, for Ah doot they'll baith be under th' 'Blue Peter' before th' morn's mornin'."

When we knocked off for the day we were soon ash.o.r.e looking for the wanderers, and early found plain evidence that they had been celebrating John's 'convalescence' and release. An Italian orange-seller whom we met had distinct memory of two seafaring gentlemen purchasing oranges and playing 'bowls' with them in the gutter of a busy street; a Jewish outfitter and his a.s.sistants were working well into the night, rearranging oilskins and sea-boots on the ceiling of a disordered shop, and a Scandinavian dame, a vendor of peanuts, had a tale of strange bargainings to tell.

Unable to find them, we returned to the s.h.i.+p. One of us had to keep Martin's watch, and the Mate was already on the track of the affair with threatenings of punishment for the absent watchman.

About ten we heard a commotion on the dock side, and looked over to see the wanderers, accompanied by all the 'larrikins' of 'sailor-town,'

making for the s.h.i.+p. Two policemen in the near background were there to see that no deliberate breach-of-the-peace took place.

Martin, hard-headed Old Martin, who stood drink better than the Welshman, was singing '_Bound away to the West'ard in th' Dreadnought we go_' in the pipingest of trebles, and Welsh John, hardly able to stand, was defying the Dutch, backed by numberless Judge Kellys, and inviting them to step up, take off their jackets and come on.