CHAPTER VII
THE ALTERNATIVE ROUTE
Her most ardent admirers--and they had never been very numerous--couldhardly have described the Orinoco as a rapid or up-to-date vessel. Shecould average a fair eight knots in ordinary weather (except when theChief Engineer was not sober; and then she had been known to do as muchas eleven), and she had faced with tolerable credit seven strenuousyears of North Atlantic weather, winter and summer alike. But she was noflier.
She had not always ploughed the ocean at the behests of Mr. NoddyKinahan, her present owner. As a matter of fact, she dated back to theearly sixties. She had been built on the Clyde, in days when people werenot in such a hurry as they are now, for steady and reliablecross-channel service between Scotland and Ireland; and the crinolinedyoung lady who had blushingly performed the christening ceremony as thebrand-new steamer slipped down the ways had named her the Gareloch.
After fifteen years of honest buffeting between the Kish and the Clochthe little Gareloch had been pronounced too slow, and sold to theproprietor of a line of coasting steamers which plied between Cardiffand London. In this capacity, with a different-coloured funnel and aslightly decayed interior, she had served for nine years as the Annie S.Holmes. After that an officious gentleman from the Board of Tradehappened to notice the state of her boilers, and unhesitatingly declinedto renew her certificate until various things were done which herpresent owner was not in the habit of doing. Consequently she hadlain rusting in Southampton Water for six months, until an astute Scot,who ran a sort of Dr. Barnardo's home for steamers which had beenabandoned by their original owners, stepped in and bought her, at therate of about a pound per ton; and having refitted her with someconvenient boilers which he had picked up at a sale, and checked herfuel-consumption by reducing her grate-area, set her going again in ahumble but remunerative way as a pig-boat between Limerick and Glasgow.During this period of her career she was known as the Blush Rose--andprobably smelt as sweet.
The maritime Dr. Barnardo sold her three years later (at a profit) to agentleman who required a ship for some shady and mysterious operationsamid certain islands in the Southern Pacific. The nature of the poorBlush Rose's occupation may be gathered from the fact that in the spaceof three months she made those already tropical regions too hot to holdher; and, with her name painted out, a repaired shot-hole in hercounter, and a few pearl oyster-shells sticking out here and there inthe murky recesses of her hold, was knocked down for a song at BuenosAyres to a Spanish-American who desired her for the fulfilment of somerather private contracts, into which he had entered with a CentralAmerican State, for a consignment of small arms and ammunition deliveredimmediately--terms, C. O. D. and no questions asked. Her captain on thisoccasion was a Lowland Scot of disreputable character but inherentpiety, who endeavoured to confer a rather spurious sanctity upon anefarious enterprise by christening his nameless vessel the JedburghAbbey. But, alas! the Jedburgh Abbey was confiscated a year later by theUnited States government, and having disgorged a most uncanonical cargo,was knocked down by Dutch auction, without benefit of clergy, to thehighest bidder. Competition for her possession was not keen, and sheultimately became the property of Mr. Noddy Kinahan, who at thattime was beginning to pile up a considerable fortune by purchasingold steamers on their way to the scrap-heap and running them astramp-freighters until they sank. The Jedburgh Abbey, with a newpropeller,--she had gone short of a blade for years,--her rusty carcasetinkered into something like sea-worthiness, and her engines secured alittle more firmly to their bed-plates, had re-established her socialstatus by creeping once more into Lloyd's list--the Red Book of theMercantile Marine--and, disguised as the Orinoco, of the "River" Line offreight-carrying steamships, had served Mr. Noddy Kinahan well for sevenyears. This grey morning, with Sandy Hook well down below the westernhorizon, she clambered wearily but perseveringly over the Atlanticrollers, like a disillusioned and world-weary old cab-horse which,having begun life between the shafts of a gentleman's brougham, is nowconcluding a depressing existence by dragging a funereal "growler" upand down the undulations of a London suburb.
Her redeeming feature was a certain purity of outline and symmetry ofform. She boasted a flush deck, unbroken by any unsightly waistamid-ships; and not even her unscraped masts, her scarred sides, and herflaked and salt-whitened funnel could altogether take away from her herpride of race,--the right to boast, in common with many a human derelictof the same sex and a very similar history, that she had "been a ladyonce."
She had now been at sea for well over twenty-four hours, and her crew,who had to a man been brought on board in what a sympathetic eyewitnesson a similar occasion once described as "a state of beastly but enviableintoxication," were once more beginning to sit up and take notice. Theirefforts in this direction owed much to the kind assistance of Messrs.Gates and Dingle, the first and second mates, who with cold douche andunrelenting boot were sparing no pains to rouse to a sense of duty thoseof their flock who had not yet found or recovered their sea-legs.
The crew consisted of two Englishmen and a Californian, together with ahandful of Scandinavians, Portuguese, and Germans, divided by sea-law(which, like its big brother, _non curat de minimis_) into "Dagoes" and"Dutchmen" respectively, representatives of the Romance races beinggrouped under the former and of the Anglo-Saxon under the latterdesignations. With one exception none of them had sailed on the shipbefore, and in all probability would never do so again. They had beenpurveyed to Captain Kingdom by a Tenderloin boarding-house keeper, andhad signed a contract for the voyage to Bordeaux and back, wages forboth trips to be paid at the end of the second. If sufficiently knockedabout, they would in all probability desert at Bordeaux, preferring toforego their pay rather than stand a second dose of the home comforts ofthe Orinoco. This was one of the ways in which Captain Kingdom saved hisemployer money and in which Mr. Noddy Kinahan made the "River" Line aprofitable concern. There were also others, which shall be set forth indue course.
Captain Kingdom had just appeared on the bridge. He was a furtive andsinister-looking individual, resembling rather a pawnbroker's assistantthan one who occupied his business in great waters. But he was a usefulservant to Noddy Kinahan.
"Got all the hands to work, Mr. Gates?" he called down to the mate.
"Aye, aye, sir!" replied Mr. Gates, knocking the heel of his boot on thedeck to ease his aching toes.
The captain ran his eye over the crew, who were huddling togetherforward of the bridge. He cleared his throat.
"Now, you scum," he began genially, "attend to me, while I tell you whatyou've got to do on board this ship."
The scum, stagnant and unresponsive, listened stolidly to his harangue,the substance of which did not differ materially, _mutatis mutandis_,from one of Mr. Squeers's inaugural addresses to his pupils on the firstmorning of term at Dotheboys Hall. Captain Kingdom's peroration laidparticular stress upon the fact that Messrs. Gates and Dingle had beenrequested by him as a particular favour to adopt the policy of the thickstick and the big boot in the case of those members of the crew whorefrained from looking slick in executing their orders.
The crew received his remarks with sheepish grins or sullen scowls; andthe orator concluded:
"Pick watches, Mr. Gates, and then we'll pipe down to dinner. Are allhands on deck?"
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Mr. Gates, looking over his list.
"I saw _somebody_ down below a few minutes ago," drawled a voice,proceeding from a figure seated upon a bollard.
It was Mr. Allerton, who, with characteristic contentment with (orindifference to) his lot, had performed the unprecedented feat ofsigning on for a second voyage in the Orinoco. He wore his usual air ofhumorous tolerance of the cares of this world, and spoke in the composedand unruffled fashion which stamps the high-caste Englishman all overthe globe. His lot on board the Orinoco had been lighter than that ofmost, for his companions, finding him apparently impervious to ill-usageand philosophically geni
al under all circumstances, had agreed to regardhim as a species of heavily decayed and slightly demented "dude," andhad half-affectionately christened him "Percy,"--a term which sums upthe typical Englishman for the New Yorker almost as vividly as "Rosbif"and "Godam" perform that office for the Parisian.
The captain descended from the bridge, walked across the deck, anddispassionately kicked Mr. Allerton off the bollard.
"Stand up, you swine, when you speak to me!" he shouted. "Where did yousee anybody?"
Mr. Allerton rose slowly and painfully from the scuppers. There aremoments when the _role_ of a Democritus is difficult to sustain.
"I'm sorry you did that, captain," he remarked, "because I know youdidn't mean it personally. You had to make some sort of demonstration,of course, to put the fear of death into these new hands, but I regretthat you should have singled me out as the _corpus vile_,--you don'tknow what that means, I daresay: never mind!--because you have shaken upmy wits so much, besides nearly breaking my hip-bone, that I shall haveto pause and consider a minute before I remember where I _did_ see thegentleman."
If the captain had been Mr. Gates he would probably have felled Allertonto the deck a second time. As it was, he shuffled his feet uncomfortablyand glared. The broken man before him, when all was said and done, washis superior; and the captain, who was of sufficiently refined clay tobe sensitive to social distinctions, was angrily conscious of that senseof sheepish uneasiness which obsesses the cad, however exalted, in thepresence of a gentleman, however degraded.
Allerton continued:--
"I remember now, captain. The man was lying in the alley-way leading tothe companion. I'll go and see how he is getting on. Keep your seats,gentlemen."
He dived down the fore-hatchway, just in time to escape the itching bootof the unimpressionable Mr. Gates, and proceeded between decks towardthe stern. Presently he came to the alley-way in question. The man wasstill there, but had slightly shifted his position since Allerton hadlast seen him. He was now reclining across the passage, with his headsunk on his chest. His feet were bare, and he was attired in a bluejumper and a pair of trousers which had once belonged to a suit oforange-and-red pyjamas. His appearance was not impressive.
Allerton stirred him gently with his foot.
"Wake up, old man," he remarked, "or there'll be hell--Well, I'mdamned!"
For the man had drowsily lifted his heavy head and displayed thefeatures of Hughie Marrable.
They gazed at each other for a full minute. Then Allerton said feebly:--
"You've preferred the Orinoco to the Apulia after all, then?"
Hughie did not reply. He was running his tongue round his cracked andblackened lips, and tentatively sucking his palate.
"I know that taste," he remarked. "It reminds me of a night I once spentin Canton. I have it--opium!"
Then he tenderly fingered the back of his head, and nodded with theinterested air of one who is acquiring a new item of experience.
"I've been filled up with opium before," he said, "but this is the firsttime I've been sand-bagged. I suppose I was sand-bagged first andhocussed afterwards. Yes, that's it."
He looked almost pleased. He was a man who liked to get to the bottom ofthings. Presently he continued:--
"Could you get me a drink of water? I've got a tongue like a stick ofglue."
Allerton departed as bidden, presently to return with a pannikin. Hughiewas standing up in the alley-way, swaying unsteadily and regarding hisattire.
"I say," he said, after gulping the water, "would you mind tellingme--you see, I'm a little bit wuzzy in the head at present--where thedevil I am, and whether I came on board in this kit or my own clothes?"
"Steamship Orinoco," replied Allerton precisely, "out of New York, forBordeaux."
"Let me think," said Hughie,--"Orinoco? Ah! now I'm beginning to seedaylight. What's the name of the owner, our friend from Coney Island?"
Allerton told him. "But he's more than your friend now," he added; "he'syour employer."
Hughie whistled long and low.
"I see," he said. "Shanghaied--eh? Well, I must say he owed me one: Ifairly barked his nose for him that night. But now that he has had meknocked on the head and shipped on board this old ark, I think he hasoverpaid me. I owe him one again; and, with any luck, he shall have it."
"Do you remember being slugged?" said Allerton.
"Can't say I do precisely. Let me see. I recollect coming alongForty-second Street on my way to the Manhattan. I'd been dining at theLambs, and I stopped a minute on the sidewalk under an L railway-trackto light my pipe, when--yes, it must have happened then."
"I expect you had been shadowed all day," said Allerton. "But I'mforgetting my duties. You are wanted on deck."
"Who wants me? Noddy Kinahan?"
"Not much! He doesn't travel by his own ships. It's the captain. Iunderstand that you are to be presented to the company as a littlestowaway, and great surprise and pain will be officially manifested atyour appearance on board."
"All right. Come along and introduce me."
Captain Kingdom's method of dealing with stowaways--natural andartificial--was simple and unvarying. On presentation, he first of allabused them with all the resources of an almost Esperantic vocabulary,and then handed them over to Mr. Gates to be kicked into shape.
On Hughie Marrable's appearance on deck, the captain proceeded withgusto to Part One of his syllabus. Hard words break no bones, andHughie, who was breathing in great draughts of sea-air and feeling lessdizzy and more collected each minute, set no particular store by theoratorical display to which he was being treated. In fact, he was almostguilty of the discourtesy of allowing his attention to wander. He setthe crown upon his offence by interrupting the captain's peroration.
"Look here, skipper," he said, brusquely breaking in upon a period, "youcan drop that. My name is Marrable. I am not a stowaway, and I have beendumped on board this ship by order of--"
"Your name," said Captain Kingdom with relish, "is anything I choose tocall you; and as you stowed yourself away on board--"
"Look here," said Hughie, "I want a word with you--in your own cabin forchoice. All right," he continued with rising voice, as the captain brokeout again, "I'll have it here instead. First of all, what is Mr. NoddyKinahan paying you for this job?"
The captain turned to the mate.
"Sock him, Mr. Gates!" he roared.
Mr. Gates, whose curiosity--together with that of the rest of thecrew--had been roused, as Hughie meant it to be, by the latter'sreference to Mr. Noddy Kinahan's share in the present situation, movedforward to his task with less alacrity than usual, and paused readilyenough when Hughie continued:--
"If you'll put back, captain, and land me anywhere within a hundredmiles of New York, I'll give you double what Kinahan is paying you forthis job."
"You _look_ like a man with money, I must say!" replied Kingdom. "Nowthen, Mr. Gates!"
"It's to be no deal, then?" said Hughie composedly. "Very well. The nextquestion is, if I am coming with you, how am I going to be treated?Cabin or steer--"
"I'll show you," roared the incensed skipper. "Knock him silly, Mr.Gates!"
Mr. Gates came on with a rush. But Hughie, who all this time had beentaking his bearings, leapt back lightly in his bare feet and snatched acapstan-bar from the rack behind him.
"Keep your distance for a moment, Mr. Gates," he commanded, "if youdon't want your head cracked. I haven't finished interviewing thiscaptain of yours yet. Happy to oblige _you_ later, for any period youcare to specify."
"'Nother Percy!" commented Mr. Dingle dejectedly, expectorating over theside. He was a plain man, was Mr. Dingle, and loved straight hitting andwords of one syllable.
Mr. Gates paused, and Hughie, leaning back against the bulwarks andtoying with the capstan-bar, continued to address the fulminatingmariner on the bridge.
"Now, captain, I'm going to be brief with you--brief and business-like.You've been paid by Kinahan to shanghai me and take me for
a longsea-voyage. Very good. I'm not kicking. I wanted to get to Europeanyhow, and I rather like long sea-voyages, especially before the mast.In fact, I'd rather sail before the mast on board this ship than in thecuddy. (Keep still, Mr. Gates!) As I'm here, I've no particularobjection to working my passage, always reserving to myself the right tomake things hot for your employer when I get ashore. I'll work as anA.B. or deck-hand if you like, though personally I would rather dosomething in the engine-room. I'm pretty well qualified in thatdirection. But I must be decently treated, and there must be no moresand-bagging or knockabout variety business. Is it a deal?"
Captain Kingdom surveyed the sinewy stowaway before him thoughtfully. Hesaw that until Hughie gave up the capstan-bar Mr. Gates would havelittle chance of enforcing discipline. He must temporise.
"I can give you a job in the engine-room," he said, in what he imaginedwas a more conciliatory tone. "Second engineer's down with somethingthis morning. You can take his watch. Drop that capstan-bar of yours,and go and see Mr. Angus, the chief."
"That should suit me," replied Hughie. "But as a guarantee of goodfaith, and to avoid disappointing the assembled company, I'm quitewilling to stand up and have a turn with Mr. Gates here, or thatgentleman over by the funnel-stay, or any one else you may appoint. ButI should _prefer_ Mr. Gates," he added, almost affectionately. "I'm notin first-class form at present, as my head has got a dint in it behind;but I'll do my best. Are you game, Mr. Gates?"
"Go on, Mr. Gates, learn him!" commanded the highly gratified skipper.
"Drop that bar," shouted the genial Mr. Gates, "and I'll kill you!"
"Half a minute, please," said Hughie, as unruffled as if he were puttingon the gloves for a ten-minute spar in a gymnasium. "I'm not going tofight a man in sea-boots in my bare feet. Can any gentleman oblige mewith--Thank you, sir! You are a white man."
A pair of oily canvas tennis shoes, with list soles, pattered down onthe deck beside him. Their donor, the "white man,"--a coal-blackindividual attired chiefly in cotton-waste,--was smiling affably fromthe engine-room hatchway.
"They'll dae ye fine," he observed unexpectedly, and disappeared below.
In a moment Hughie had slipped on the shoes. Then, casting away the bar,he hurled himself straight at the head of Mr. Gates.
In the brief but exhilarating exhibition which followed Mr. Gatesrealised that a first mate on the defensive is a very different beingfrom a first mate on the rampage. He had become so accustomed tobreaking in unresisting dock-rats and bemused foreigners, taking his owntime and using his boots where necessary, that a high-pressure combatwith a man who seemed to be everywhere except at the end of his fist--tohis honour he never once thought of employing his foot--was an entirenovelty to him. He fought sullenly but ponderously, wasting his enormousstrength on murderous blows which never reached their mark, and stolidlyenduring a storm of smacks, bangs, and punches that would have knocked aman of less enduring material into a pulp. But there is one blow whichno member of the human family can stand up to, glutton for punishmentthough he be. Hughie made a sudden feint with his left at his opponent'sbody, just below the heart. Gates dropped his guard, momentarilythrowing forward his head as he did so. Instantaneously a terrificupper-cut from Hughie's right took him squarely under the chin. Mr.Gates described a graceful parabola, and landed heavily on his back ondeck, striking his head against a ring-bolt as he fell. The whole fighthad lasted less than four minutes.
Hughie was about to assist his fallen opponent to rise, when he heard awarning cry from half-a-dozen voices. He swung round, to find thecaptain making for him, open-mouthed, with the capstan-bar. He spranglightly aside--a further blessing on those list shoes!--and his opponentcharged past him, bringing down the bar with a flail-like sweep upon thedrum of a steam windlass. Next moment Hughie, grasping the foremastshrouds, leaped on the bulwarks and pulled himself up to the level ofthe bridge, which was unoccupied save by the man at the wheel, who hadbeen an enthusiastic spectator of the scene below.
Having climbed upon the bridge, and so secured the upper ground in caseof any further attack, Hughie leaned over the rails and parleyed. In hishand he held a pair of heavy binoculars, which he had taken out of a boxclamped to the back of the wind-screen.
"The first man who attempts to follow me up here," he announced, when hehad got his breath back, "will get this pair of glasses in the eye.Captain, I don't think you are a great success as an employer of labour.You haven't got the knack of conciliating your men. Can't we come toterms? Mine are very simple. I want some clothes--my own, for choice. Ifyou haven't got them, anything quiet and unobtrusive will do. But Idecline to go about in orange-and-red pyjama trousers in mid-Atlantic toplease you or anybody else. For one thing they're not warm, and foranother they're not usual. If you will oblige me in this matter, I amquite willing to live at peace with you. I don't see that you can reallysuppress me except by killing me, and that is a thing which I don'tthink you have either the authority or the pluck to do. Why not give mea billet in the engine-room and cry quits?"
Captain Kingdom looked up at the obstreperous mutineer on the bridge,and down at the recumbent Mr. Gates on the deck, and ground his teeth.Then he looked up to the bridge again.
"All right," he growled. "Come down!"