CHAPTER VII
THE DERELICT
"Her cargo'll have shifted," said the third mate, "and when she got thatlist her people will have felt frightened and left her."
"She's a scary look to her, with her yard-arms spiking every other sea,"said Captain Image, "and her decks like the side of a house. I shouldn'tcare to navigate a craft that preferred to lie down on her beamends myself."
"Take this glass, sir, and you'll see the lee quarter-boat davit-tacklesare overhauled. That means they got at least one boat in the water. Tomy mind she's derelict."
"Yard-arm tackles rigged and overhauled, too," said Captain Image."She'll have carried a big boat on the top of that house amidships, andthat's gone, too. Well, I hope her crew have got to dry land somewhere,or been picked up, poor beggars. Nasty things, those old wind-jammers,Mr. Strake. Give me steam."
"But there's a pile of money in her still," said the third mate,following up his own thoughts. "She's an iron ship, and she'll be twothousand tons, good. Likely enough in the 'Frisco grain trade. Seems tome a new ship, too; anyway, she's got those humbugging patent tops'ls."
"And you're thinking she'd be a nice plum if we could pluck her inanywhere?" said Image, reading what was in his mind.
"Well, me lad, I know that as well as you, and no one would bepleaseder to pocket L300. But the old _M'poso's_ a mailboat, and becauseshe's got about a quarter of a hundredweight of badly spelt letters onboard, she can't do that sort of salvage work if there's no life-savingthrown in as an extra reason. Besides, we're behind time as it is, withsmelling round for so much cargo, and though I shall draw my two anda-half per cent, on that, I shall have it all to pay away again, andmore to boot, in fines for being late. No, I tell you it isn't all sheerprofit and delight in being skipper on one of those West African coastboats. And there's another thing: the Chief was telling me only thismorning that they've figured it very close on the coal. We only havewhat'll take us to Liverpool ourselves, without trying to pull a yawing,heavy, towing thing like that on behind us."
Strake drummed at the white rail of the bridge. He was a very young man,and he was very keen on getting the chance of distinguishing himself;and here, on the warm, windless swells abeam, the chance seemed to sitbeckoning him. "I've been thinking, sir, if you can lend me half a dozenmen, I could take her in somewhere myself."
"I'm as likely to lend you half a dozen angels. Look at the deck hands;look at the sickly trip this has been. We've had to put some of them ondouble tricks at the wheel already, and as for getting any paintingdone, or having the ship cleaned up a bit, why, I can see we shall gointo Liverpool as dirty as a Geordie collier. Besides, Mr. Strake, Ibelieve I've told you once or twice already that you're not much useyourself, but anyway you're the best that's left, and I'm having tostand watch and watch with you as it is. If the mate gets out of hisbed between here and home, it'll be to go over the side, and the secondmate's nearly as bad with that nasty blackwater fever only just off him;and there you are. Mr. Strake, if you have a penn'oth of brains stowedaway anywhere, I wish to whiskers you'd show 'em sometimes."
"Old man's mad at losing a nice lump of salvage," thought Strake."Natural, I guess." So he said quietly: "Ay, ay, sir," and walked awayto the other end of the bridge.
Captain Image followed him half-way, but stopped irresolutely with hishand on the engine-room telegraph. On the fore main deck below him hisold friend, Captain Owen Kettle, was leaning on the rail, staringwistfully at the derelict.
"Poor beggar," Image mused, "'tisn't hard to guess what he's thinkingabout. I wonder if I could fix it for him to take her home. It might sethim on his legs again, and he's come low enough, Lord knows. If I hadn'tgiven him a room in the first-class for old times' sake, he'd have hadto go home, after his trouble on the West Coast, as a distressed seaman,and touch his cap to me when I passed. I've not done badly by him, but Ishall have to pay for that room in the first-class out of my own pocket,and if he was to take that old wind-jammer in somewhere, he'd fork out,and very like give me a dash besides.
"Yes, I will say that about Kettle; he's honest as a barkeeper, andgenerous besides. He's a steamer sailor, of course, and has been most ofthese years, and how he'll do the white wings business again, Lord onlyknows. Forget he hasn't got engines till it's too late, and then drownhimself probably. However, that's his palaver. Where we're going toscratch him up a crew from's the thing that bothers me. Well, we'llsee." He leaned down over the bridge rail, and called.
Kettle looked up.
"Here a minute, Captain."
Poor Kettle's eye lit, and he came up the ladders with a boy'squickness.
Image nodded toward the deserted vessel. "Fine full-rigger, hasn't shebeen? What do you make her out for?"
"'Frisco grain ship. Stuff in bulk. And it's shifted."
"Looks that way. Have you forgotten all your 'mainsail haul' and thesquare-rig gymnastics?"
"I'm hard enough pushed now to remember even the theory-sums they taughtat navigation school if I thought they would serve me."
"I know. And I'm as sorry for you, Captain, as I can hold. But you see,it's this: I'm short of sailormen; I've barely enough to steer and keepthe decks clean; anyway I've none to spare."
"I don't ask for fancy goods," said Kettle eagerly. "Give me anythingwith hands on it--apes, niggers, stokers, what you like, and I'll soonteach them their dancing steps."
Captain Image pulled at his moustache. "The trouble of it is, we areshort everywhere. It's been a sickly voyage, this. I couldn't let youhave more than two out of the stokehold, and even if we take those, theold Chief will be fit to eat me. You could do nothing with that bigvessel with only two beside yourself."
"Let me go round and see. I believe I can rake up enough hands somehow."
"Well, you must be quick about it," said Image. "I've wasted more thanenough time already. I can only give you five minutes, Captain. Oh, bythe way, there's a nigger stowaway from Sarry Leone you can take if youlike. He's a stonemason or some such foolishness, and I don't mindhaving him drowned. If you hammer him enough, probably he'll learn howto put some weight on a brace."
"That stonemason's just the man I can use," said Kettle. "Get him forme. I'll never forget your kindness over this, Captain, and you maydepend upon me to do the square thing by you if I get her home."
Captain Kettle ran off down the bridge and was quickly out of sight, andhard at his quest for volunteers. Captain Image waited a minute, and heturned to his third mate. "Now, me lad," he said, "I know you'redisappointed; but with the other mates sick like they are, it's justimpossible for me to let you go. If I did, the Company would sack me,and the dirty Board of Trade would probably take away my ticket. So youmay as well do the kind, and help poor old Cappie Kettle. You see whathe's come down to, through no fault of his own. You're young, and you'refull to the coamings with confidence. I'm older, and I know that luckmay very well get up and hit me, and I'll be wanting a helping handmyself. It's a rotten, undependable trade, this sailoring. You mightjust call the carpenter, and get the cover off that smaller lifeboat."
"You think he'll get a crew, then, sir, and not our deckhands?"
"Him? He'll get some things with legs and arms to them, if he has towhittle 'em out of kindling-wood. It's not that that'll stop CappieKettle now, me lad."
The third mate went off, sent for the carpenter, and started to get alifeboat cleared and ready for launching. Captain Image fell toanxiously pacing the upper bridge, and presently Kettle came backto him.
"Well, Captain," he said, "I got a fine crew to volunteer, if you cansee your way to let me have them. There's a fireman and a trimmer, bothEnglish; there's a third-class passenger--a Dago of some sort, I thinkhe is, that was a ganger on the Congo railway--and there's Mr.Dayton-Philipps; and if you send me along your nigger stonemason,that'll make a good, strong ship's company."
"Dayton-Philipps!" said Image. "Why, he's an officer in the EnglishArmy, and he's been in command of Haussa troops on the Gold Coast, andhe's b
een some sort of a Resident, or political thing up in one of thosenigger towns at the back there. What's he want to go for?"
"Said he'd come for the fun of the thing."
Captain Image gave a grim laugh. "Well, I think he'll find all the funhe's any use for before he's ashore again. Extraordinary thing somepeople can't see they're well off when they've got a job ashore. Now,Mr. Strake, hurry with that boat and get her lowered away. You're totake charge and bring her back; and mind, you're not to leave thecaptain here and his gang aboard if the vessel's too badly wrecked tobe safe."
He turned to Kettle. "Excuse my giving that last order, old man, but Iknow how keen you are, and I'm not going to let you go off to try andnavigate a sieve. You're far too good a man to be drowned uselessly."
The word was "Hurry," now that the final decision had been given, andthe davit tackles squeaked out as the lifeboat jerked down toward thewater. She rode there at the end of her painter, and the three rowersand the third mate fended her off, while Kettle's crew of nondescriptsscrambled unhandily down to take their places. The negro stowawayrefused stubbornly to leave the steamer, and so was loweredignominiously in a bowline, and then, as he still objected loudly thathe came from Sa' Leone, and was a free British subject, some one crammeda bucket over his head, amidst the uproarious laughter of the onlookers.
Captain Kettle swung himself down the swaying Jacob's ladder, and theboat's painter was cast off; and under three oars she moved slowly offover the hot sun-kissed swells. Advice and farewells boomed like athunderstorm from the steamer, and an animated frieze of faces andfigures and waving headgear decorated her rail.
Ahead of them, the quiet ship shouldered clumsily over the rollers, nowgushing down till she dipped her martingale, now swooping up again,sending whole cataracts of water swirling along her waist.
The men in the boat regarded her with curious eyes as they drew nearer.Even the three rowers turned their heads, and were called to ordertherefor by the mate at the tiller. A red ensign was seized jackdownward in her main rigging, the highest note of the sailorman's agonyof distress. On its wooden case, in her starboard fore-rigging, adioptric lens sent out the faint green glow of a lamp's light intothe sunshine.
The third mate drew attention to this last "Lot of oil in that lamp," hesaid, "or it means they haven't deserted her very long. To my mind, itmust have been in yesterday's breeze her cargo shifted, and scared herpeople into leaving her."
"We shall see," said Kettle, still staring intently ahead.
The boat was run up cannily alongside, and Kettle jumped into the mainchains and clambered on board over the bulwarks. "Now, pass up my crew,Mr. Strake," said he.
"I'm coming myself next, if you don't mind," said the third mate, anddid so. "Must obey the old man's orders," he explained, as they stoodtogether on the sloping decks. "You heard yourself what hesaid, Captain."
"Well, Mr. Mate," said Kettle grimly, "I hope you'll decide she'sseaworthy, because, whatever view you take of it, as I've got this far,here I'm going to stay."
The mate frowned. He was a young man; he was here in authority, and hehad a great notion of making his authority felt. Captain Kettle was tohim merely a down-on-his-luck free-passage nobody, and as the mate waslarge and lusty he did not anticipate trouble. So he remarked rathercrabbedly that he was going to obey his orders, and went aft along theslanting deck.
It was clear that the vessel had been swept--badly swept. Ropes-endsstreamed here and there and overboard in every direction, and everythingmovable had been carried away eternally by the sea. A goodly part of thestarboard bulwarks had vanished, and the swells gushed in and out asthey chose. But the hatch tarpaulins and companions were still in place;and though it was clear from the list (which was so great that theycould not walk without holding on) that her cargo was badly shifted,there was no evidence so far that she was otherwise than sound.
The third mate led the way on to the poop, opened the companion doorsand slide, and went below. Kettle followed. There was a cabin with staterooms off it, littered, but dry. Strake went down on his knees beneaththe table, searching for something. "Lazaret hatch ought to be downhere," he explained. "I want to see in there. Ah, it is."
He got his fingers in the ring and pulled it back. Then he whistled."Half-full of water," he said. "I thought so from the way she floated.It's up to the beams down here. Likely enough she'll have started aplate somewhere. 'Fraid it's no go for you, Captain. Why, if a breezewas to come on, half the side of her might drop out, and she'd go downlike a stone."
Now to Kettle's honor be it said (seeing what he had in his mind) he didnot tackle the man as he knelt there peering into the lazaret. Insteadhe waited till he stood up again, and then made his statement coldly anddeliberately.
"This ship's not too dangerous for me, and I choose to judge. And ifshe'll do for me, she's good enough for the crew I've got in your boat.Now I want them on deck, and at work without any more palaver."
"Do you, by God!" said the mate, and then the pair of them closedwithout any further preliminaries. They were both of them well used toquick rough-and-tumbles, and they both of them knew that the man whogets the first grip in these wrestles usually wins, and instinctivelyeach tried to act on that knowledge.
But if the third mate had bulk and strength, Kettle had science andabundant wiriness; and though the pair of them lost their footing on thesloping cabin floor at the first embrace, and wriggled over and underlike a pair of eels, Captain Kettle got a thumb artistically fixed inthe bigger man's windpipe, and held it there doggedly. The mate, growingmore and more purple, hit out with savage force, but Kettle dodged thebull-like blows like the boxer he was, and the mate's effortsgradually relaxed.
But at this point they were interrupted. "That wobbly boat was making mesea-sick," said a voice, "so I came on board here. Hullo, you fellows!"
Kettle looked up. "Mr. Philipps," he said, "I wish you'd go and get therest of our crew on deck out of the boat."
"But what are you two doing down there?"
"We disagreed over a question of judgment. He said this ship isn't safe,and I shouldn't have the chance to take her home. I say there's nothingwrong with her that can't be remedied, and home I'm going to take her,anyway. It might be the one chance in my life, sir, of getting a balanceat the bank, and I'm not going to miss it."
"Ho!" said Dayton-Philipps.
"If you don't like to come, you needn't," said Kettle. "But I'm going tohave the stonemason and the Dago, and those two coal-heavers. Perhapsyou'd better go back. It will be wet, hard work here; no way the sort ofjob to suit a soldier."
Dayton-Philipps flushed slightly, and then he laughed. "I suppose that'sintended to be nasty," he said. "Well, Captain, I shall have to prove toyou that we soldiers are equal to a bit of manual labor sometimes. Bythe way, I don't want to interfere in a personal matter, but I'd take itas a favor if you wouldn't kill Strake quite. I rather like him."
"Anything to oblige," said Kettle, and took his thumb out of the thirdmate's windpipe. "And now, sir, as you've so to speak signed on for dutyhere, away with you on deck and get those four other beauties up out ofthe boat."
Dayton-Philipps touched his hat and grinned. "Ay, ay, sir," he said, andwent back up the companion.
Shortly afterward he came to report the men on board, and Kettleaddressed his late opponent. "Now, look here, young man, I don't want tohave more trouble on deck before the hands. Have you had enough?"
"For the present, yes," said the third mate huskily. "But I hope we'llmeet again some other day to have a bit of further talk."
"I am sure I shall be quite ready. No man ever accused me of refusing ascrap. But, me lad, just take one tip from me: don't you go and makeCaptain Image anxious by saying this ship isn't seaworthy, or he'llbegin to ask questions, and he may get you to tell more than you'reproud about."
"You can go and get drowned your own way. As far as I am concerned, noone will guess it's coming off till they see it in the papers."
"Thanks,"
said Kettle. "I knew you'd be nice about it."
The third mate went down to his boat, and the three rowers took heracross to the _M'poso_, where she was hauled up to davits again. Thesteamer's siren boomed out farewells, as she got under way again, andKettle with his own hands unbent the reversed ensign from the ship'smain rigging, and ran it up to the peak and dipped it three timesin salute.
He breathed more freely now. One chance and a host of unknown dangerslay ahead of him. But the dangers he disregarded. Dangers were nothingnew to him. It was the chance which lured him on. Chances so seldom camein his way, that he intended to make this one into a certainty if theefforts of desperation could do it.
Alone of all the six men on the derelict, Captain Kettle had knowledgeof the seaman's craft; but, for the present, thews and not seamanshipwere required. The vessel lay in pathetic helplessness on her side,liable to capsize in the first squall which came along, and their firsteffort must be to get her in proper trim whilst the calm continued. Theyknocked out the wedges with their heels, and got the tarpaulins off themain hatch; they pulled away the hatch covers, and saw beneath themsmooth slopes of yellow grain.
As though they were an invitation to work, shovels were made fast alongthe coamings of the hatch. The six men took these, and with shoutsdropped down upon the grain. And then began a period of Homeric toil.The fireman and the coal-trimmer set the pace, and with a fine contemptfor the unhandiness of amateurs did not fail to give a display of theirutmost. Kettle and Dayton-Philipps gamely kept level with them. TheItalian ganger turned out to have his pride also, and did not lag, andonly the free-born British subject from Sierra Leone endeavored to shirkhis due proportion of the toil.
But high-minded theories as to the rights of man were regarded here aslittle as threats to lay information before a justice of the peace; andunder the sledge-hammer arguments of shovel blows from whoever happenedto be next to him, the unfortunate colored gentleman descended to thegrade of nigger again (which he had repeatedly sworn never to do), andtoiled and sweated equally with his betters.
The heat under the decks was stifling, and dust rose from the wheat inchoking volumes, but the pace of the circling shovels was never allowedto slacken. They worked there stripped to trousers, and they understood,one and all, that they were working for their lives. A breeze had sprungup almost as soon as the _M'poso_ had steamed away, and hourly it wasfreshening: the barometer in the cabin was registering a steady fall;the sky was banking up with heavy clouds.
Kettle had handled sheets and braces and hove the vessel to so as tosteady her as they worked, but she still labored heavily in the sea, andbeneath them they could hear the leaden swish of water in the floor ofthe hold beneath. Their labor was having its effect, and byinfinitesimal gradations they were counteracting the list and gettingthe ship upright; but the wind was worsening, and it seemed to them alsothat the water was getting deeper under their feet, and that the vesselrode more sluggishly.
So far the well had not been sounded. It is no use getting alarmingstatistics to discourage one's self unnecessarily. But after night hadfallen, and it was impossible to see to work in the gloomy hold anylonger without lamps, Captain Kettle took the sounding-rod and foundeight feet.
He mentioned this when he took down the lanterns into the hold, but hedid not think it necessary to add that as the sounding had been takenwith the well on the slant it was therefore considerably under thetruth. Still he sent Dayton-Philipps and the trimmer on deck to take aspell at the pumps, and himself resumed his shovel-work alongsidethe others.
Straight away on through the night the six men stuck to their savagetoil, the blood from their blistered hands reddening the shafts of theshovels. Every now and again one or another of them, choked with thedust, went to get a draft of lukewarm water from the scuttlebutt. But noone stayed over long on these excursions. The breeze had blown up into agale. The night overhead-was starless and moonless, but every minute theblack heaven was split by spurts of lightning, which showed thelaboring, dishevelled ship set among great mountains of breaking seas.
The sight would have been bad from a well-manned, powerful steamboat;from the deck of the derelict it approached the terrific. With the seasconstantly crashing on board of her, to have left the hatches open wouldhave been, in her semi-waterlogged condition, to court swamping, andafter midnight these were battened down, and the men with the shovelsworked among the frightened, squeaking rats in the closed-in box of thehold. There were four on board the ship during that terrible night whoopenly owned to being cowed, and freely bewailed their insanity in everbeing lured away from the _M'poso_. Dayton-Philipps had sufficientself-control to keep his feelings, whatever they were, unstated; butKettle faced all difficulties with indomitable courage and asmiling face.
"I believe," said Dayton-Philipps to him once when they were taking aspell together at the clanking pumps, "you really glory in findingyourself in this beastly mess."
"I have got to earn out the salvage of this ship somehow," Kettleshouted back to him through the windy darkness, "and I don't much carewhat work comes between now and when I handle the check."
"You've got a fine confidence. I'm not grumbling, mind, but it seemsvery unlikely we shall be still afloat to-morrow morning."
"We shall pull through, I tell you."
"Well," said Dayton-Philipps, "I suppose you are a man that's always metwith success. I'm not. I've got blundering bad luck all along, and ifthere's a hole available, I get into it."
Captain Kettle laughed aloud into the storm. "Me!" he cried. "Me inluck! There's not been a man more bashed and kicked by luck between hereand twenty years back. I suppose God thought it good for me, and He'skept me down to my bearings in bad luck ever since I first got mycaptain's ticket. But He's not cruel, Mr. Philipps, and He doesn't pusha man beyond the end of his patience. My time's come at last. He's givenme something to make up for all the weary waiting. He's sent me thisderelict, and He only expects me to do my human best, and then He'll letme get her safely home."
"Good Heavens, Skipper, what are you talking about? Have you seenvisions or something?"
"I'm a man, Mr. Philipps, that's always said my prayers regular allthrough life. I've asked for things, big things, many of them, and I'llnot deny they've been mostly denied me. I seemed to know they'd bedenied. But in the last week or so there's been a change. I've asked on,just as earnestly as I knew how, and I seemed to hear Him answer. It washardly a voice, and yet it was like a voice; it appeared to come out ofmillions of miles of distance; and I heard it say: 'Captain, I do notforget the sparrows, and I have not forgotten you. I have tried you longenough. Presently you shall meet with your reward.'"
Dayton-Philipps stared. Was the man going mad?
"And that's what it is, sir, that makes me sure I shall bring thisvessel into some port safely and pocket the salvage."
"Look here, Skipper," said Dayton-Philipps, "you are just fagged todeath, and I'm the same. We've been working till our hands are raw asbutcher's meat, and we're clean tired out, and we must go below and geta bit of sleep. If the ship swims, so much the better; if she sinks, wecan't help it; anyway, we're both of us too beat to work any more. Ishall be 'seeing things' myself next."
"Mr. Philipps," said the little sailor gravely, "I know you don't meananything wrong, so I take no offence. But I'm a man convinced; I'veheard the message I told you with my own understanding; and it isn'tlikely anything you can say will persuade me out of it. I can see youare tired out, as you say, so go you below and get a spell of sleep. Butas for me, I've got another twenty hours' wakefulness in me yet, ifneeds be. This chance has mercifully been sent in my way, as I've said,but naturally it's expected of me that I do my human utmost as well tosee it through."
"If you stay on at this heart-breaking work, so do I," saidDayton-Philipps, and toiled gamely on at the pump. There he was stillwhen day broke, sawing up and down like an automaton. But before the sunrose, utter weariness had done its work. His bleeding fingers loosedthemselves from the br
eak, his knees failed beneath him, and he fell inan unconscious stupor of sleep on to the wet planking of the deck. Forhalf an hour more Kettle struggled on at the pump, doing double work;but even his flesh and blood had its breaking strain; and at last hecould work no more.
He leaned dizzily up against the pump for a minute or so, and then withan effort he pulled his still unconscious companion away and laid him onthe dry floor of a deck-house. There was a pannikin of cold stewed teaslung from a hook in there, and half a sea biscuit on one of the bunks.He ate and drank greedily, and then went out again along the streamingdecks to work, so far as his single pair of hands could accomplish sucha thing, at getting the huge derelict once more in sailing trim.
The shovels meanwhile had been doing their work, and although the listwas not entirely gone, the vessel at times (when a sea buttressed herup) floated almost upright. The gale was still blowing, but it hadveered to the southward, and on the afternoon of that day Kettle calledall hands on deck and got her under way again, and found to his joy thatthe coal-trimmer had some elementary notion of taking a wheel.
"I rate you as Mate," he said in his gratitude, "and you'll draw salvagepay according to your rank. I was going to make Mr. Philipps myofficer, but--"
"Don't apologize," said Dayton-Philipps. "I don't know the name of onestring from another, and I'm quite conscious of my deficiency. But justwatch me put in another spell at those infernal pumps."
The list was of less account now, and the vessel was once more undercommand of her canvas. It was the leak which gave them most cause foranxiety. Likely enough it was caused by the mere wrenching away of acouple of rivets. But the steady inpour of water through the holes wouldsoon have made the ship grow unmanageable and founder if it was notconstantly attended to. Where the leak was they had not a notion.Probably it was deep down under the cargo of grain, and quiteunget-at-able; but anyway it demanded a constant service at the pumps tokeep it in check, and this the bone-weary crew were but feebly competentto give. They were running up into the latitude of the Bay, too, andmight reasonably expect that "Biscay weather" would not take much fromthe violence of the existing gale.
However, the dreaded Bay, fickle as usual, saw fit to receive them atfirst with a smiling face. The gale eased to a plain smiling wind; thesullen black clouds dissolved away into fleckless blue, and a sun cameout which peeled their arms and faces as they worked. During theafternoon they rose the brown sails of a Portuguese fishing schooner,and Kettle headed toward her.
Let his crew be as willing as they would, there was no doubt that thismurderous work at the pumps could not be kept up for a voyage toEngland. If he could not get further reinforcements, he would have totake the ship into the nearest foreign port to barely save her fromsinking. And then where would be his sighed-for salvage? Wofullythinned, he thought, or more probably whisked away altogether. CaptainKettle had a vast distrust for the shore foreigner over questions of lawproceedings and money matters. So he made for the schooner, hove his ownvessel to, and signalled that he wished to speak.
A boat was slopped into the water from the schooner's deck, and tenswarthy, ragged Portuguese fishermen crammed into her. A couple pushedat the oars, and they made their way perilously over the deep hill anddale of ocean with that easy familiarity which none but deep-seafishermen can attain. They worked up alongside, caught a rope which wasthrown them, and nimbly climbed over on to the decks.
Two or three of them had a working knowledge of English; their captainspoke it with fluent inaccuracy; and before any of them had gone aft toKettle, who stood at the wheel, they heard the whole story of the shipbeing found derelict, and (very naturally) were anxious enough by somemeans or another to finger a share of the salvage. Even a raggedPortuguese _baccalhao_ maker can have his ambitions for prosperity likeother people.
Their leader made his proposal at once. "All right-a, Captain, I see howyou want. We take charge now, and take-a you into Ferrol without youbeing at more trouble."
"Nothing of the kind," said Kettle. "I'm just wanting the loan of two orthree hands to give my fellows a spell or two at that pump. We're a bitshort-handed, that's all. But otherwise we're quite comfortable. I'llpay A.B.'s wages on Liverpool scale, and that's a lot more than youDagos give amongst yourselves, and if the men work well I'll throw in adash besides for 'bacca money.'"
HE PICKED UP THE MAN AND SENT HIM AFTER THE KNIFE.]
"Ta-ta-ta," said the Portuguese, with a wave of his yellow fist. "Itcannot be done, and I will not lend you men. It shall do as I say; wetake-a you into Ferroll. Do not fear-a, captain; you shall have moneyfor finding sheep; you shall have some of our salvage."
Dayton-Philipps, who was standing near, and knew the little sailor'sviews, looked for an outbreak. But Kettle held himself in, and stillspoke to the man civilly.
"That's good English you talk," he said. "Do all your crowd understandthe language?"
"No," said the fellow, readily enough, "that man does not, nor does him,nor him."
"Right--oh!" said Kettle. "Then, as those three man can't kick up abobbery at the other end, they've just got to stay here and help workthis vessel home. And as for the rest of you filthy, stinking,scale-covered cousins of apes, over the side you go before you're put.Thought you were going to steal my lawful salvage, did you, youcrawling, yellow-faced--ah!"
The hot-tempered Portuguese was not a man to stand this tirade (asKettle anticipated) unmoved. His fingers made a vengeful snatch towardthe knife in his belt, but Kettle was ready for this, and caught itfirst and flung it overboard. Then with a clever heave he picked up theman and sent him after the knife.
He tripped up one of the Portuguese who couldn't speak English, draggedhim to the cabin companion, and toppled him down the ladder.Dayton-Philipps (surprised at himself for abetting such lawlessness)captured a second in like fashion, and the English fireman andcoal-trimmer picked up the third and dropped him down an open hatchwayon to the grain in the hold beneath.
But there were six of the fishermen left upon the deck, and these didnot look upon the proceedings unmoved. They had been slow to act atfirst, but when the initial surprise was over, they were blazing withrage and eager to do murder. The Italian and the Sierra Leone nigger ranout of their way on to the forecastle head, and they came on,vainglorious in numbers, and armed with their deadly knives. But the twoEnglish roughs, the English gentleman, and the little English sailor,were all of them men well accustomed to take care of their own skins;the belaying pins out of the pinrail seemed to come by instinct intotheir hands, and not one of them got so much as a scratch.
It was all the affair of a minute. It does not do to let these littleimpromptu scrimmages simmer over long. In fact, the whole affair wasdecided in the first rush. The quartette of English went in, despisingthe "Dagos," and quite intending to clear them off the ship. Theinvaders were driven overboard by sheer weight of blows and prestige,and the victors leaned on the bulwark puffing and gasping, and watchedthem swim away to their boat through the clear water below.
"Ruddy Dagos," said the roughs.
"Set of blooming pirates," said Kettle.
But Dayton-Philipps seemed to view the situation from a different point."I'm rather thinking we are the pirates. How about those three we've goton board? This sort of press-gang work isn't quite approved of nowadays,is it, Skipper?"
"They no speakee English," said Kettle drily. "You might have heard meask that, sir, before I started to talk to that skipper to make himbegin the show. And he did begin it, and that's the great point. If everyou've been in a police court, you'll always find the magistrate ask,'Who began this trouble?' And when he finds out, that's the man he logs.No, those fishermen won't kick up a bobbery when they get back to happyPortugal again; and as for our own crowd here on board, they ain'tlikely to talk when they get ashore, and have money due to them."
"Well, I suppose there's reason in that, though I should have my doubtsabout the stonemason. He comes from Sierra Leone, remember, and they'regreat on the rights of man
there."
"Quite so," said Kettle. "I'll see the stonemason gets packed off to seaagain in a stokehold before he has a chance of stirring up the mudashore. When the black man gets too pampered, he has to be brought lowagain with a rush, just to make him understand his place."
"I see," said Dayton-Phillips, and then he laughed.
"There's something that tickles you, sir?"
"I was thinking, Skipper, that for a man who believes he's being put inthe way of a soft thing by direct guidance from on high, you're using upa tremendous lot of energy to make sure the Almighty's wishes don'tmiscarry. But still I don't understand much about these matters myself.And at present it occurs to me that I ought to be doing a spell at thoseinfernal pumps, instead of chattering here."
The three captive Portuguese were brought up on deck and were quicklyinduced by the ordinary persuasive methods of the merchant serviceofficer to forego their sulkiness and turn-to diligently at what workwas required of them. But even with this help the heavy ship was stillconsiderably undermanned, and the incessant labor at the pumps fellwearily on all hands. The Bay, true to its fickle nature, changed onthem again. The sunshine was swamped by a driving gray mist of rain; theglass started on a steady fall; and before dark, Kettle snugged her downto single topsails, himself laying out on the foot-ropes with thePortuguese, as no others of his crew could manage to scramble aloft withso heavy a sea running.
The night worsened as it went on; the wind piled up steadily inviolence; and the sea rose till the sodden vessel rode it with a verybabel of shrieks, and groans, and complaining sounds. Toward morning, aterrific squall powdered up against them and hove her down, and a dullrumbling was heard in her bowels to let them know that once more hercargo had shifted.
For the moment, even Kettle thought that this time she was gone forgood. She lost her way, and lay down like a log in the water, and theracing seas roared over her as though she had been a half-tide rock. Bya miracle no one was washed overboard. But her people hung here andthere to eyebolts and ropes, mere nerveless wisps of humanity, incapableunder those teeming cataracts of waves to lift so much as a finger tohelp themselves.
Then to the impact of a heavier gasp of the squall, the topgallant mastswent, and the small loss of of top-weight seemed momentarily to easeher. Kettle seized upon the moment. He left the trimmer and one of thePortuguese at the wheel, and handed himself along the streaming decksand kicked and cuffed the rest of his crew into activity. He gave hisorders, and the ship wore slowly round before the wind, and began to payaway on the other tack.
Great hills of sea deluged her in the process, and her people workedlike mermen, half of their time submerged. But by degrees, as the vastrollers hit and shook her with their ponderous impact, she came uprightagain, and after a little while shook the grain level in her holds, andassumed her normal, angle of heel.
Dayton-Philipps struggled up and, hit Kettle on the shoulder. "How'sthat, umpire?" he bawled. "My faith, you are a clever, sailor."
Captain Kettle touched his hat. "God bore a hand there, sir," he shoutedthrough the wind. "If I'd tried to straighten her up like that withoutoutside help, every man here would have been fish-chop this minute."
Even Dayton-Philipps, sceptical though he might be, began to think therewas "something in it" as the voyage went on. To begin with, the leakstopped. They did not know how it had happened, and they did not verymuch care. Kettle had his theories. Anyway it stopped. To go on with,although they were buffeted with every kind of evil weather, all theirmischances were speedily rectified. In a heavy sea, all their unstablecargo surged about as though it had been liquid, but it always shiftedback again before she quite capsized. The mizzen-mast went bodilyoverboard in one black rain-squall because they were too short-handed toget sail off it in time, but they found that the vessel sailed almost aswell as a brig, and was much easier for a weak crew to manage.
All hands got covered with salt-water boils. All hands, with theexception of Kettle--who remained, as usual, neat--grew gaunt, bearded,dirty, and unkempt. They were grimed with sea-salt, they were flayedwith violent suns; but by dint of hard schooling they were becominghandy sailormen, all of them, and even the negro stonemason learned toobey an order without first thinking over its justice till he earned apremonitory hiding.
In the throat of the English Channel a blundering steamship did her bestto run them down, and actually rasped sides with the sailing-vessel asshe tore past into the night; but nobody made an attempt to jump forsafety on to her decks, nobody even took the trouble to swear at herwith any thing like heartfelt profanity.
"It's a blooming Flying Dutchman we're on," said the coal-trimmer whoacted as mate. "There's no killing the old beast. Only hope she gets usashore somehow, and doesn't stay fooling about at sea forever just toget into risks. I want to get off her. She's too blooming lucky to bequite wholesome somehow."
Kettle had intended to make a Channel port, but a gale hustled him northround Land's End, "and you see," he said to Dayton-Philipps, "what I getfor not being sufficiently trustful. The old girl's papers are made outto Cardiff, and here we are pushed round into the Bristol Channel. ByJames! look, there's a tug making up to us. Thing like that makes youfeel homey, doesn't it, sir?"
The little spattering tug wheeled up within hail, tossing like a cork onthe brown waves of the estuary, and the skipper in the green pulpitbetween the paddle-boxes waved a hand cheerily.
"Seem to have found some dirty weather, Captain," he bawled. "Want apull into Cardiff or Newport?"
"Cardiff. What price?"
"Say L100."
"I wasn't asking to buy the tug. You're putting a pretty fancy figure onher for that new lick of paint you've got on your rails."
"I'll take L80."
"Oh, I can sail her in myself if you're going to be funny. She's ashandy as a pilot-boat, brig rigged like this, and my crew know her fine.I'll give you L20 into Cardiff, and you're to dock me for that."
"Twenty wicked people. Now look here, Captain, you don't look veryprosperous with that vessel of yours, and will probably have the sackfrom owners for mishandling her when you get ashore, and I don't want toembitter your remaining years in the workus, so I'll pull you in forfifty quid."
"L20, old bottle nose."
"Come now, Captain, thirty. I'm not here for sport. I've got to make myliving."
"My man," said Kettle, "I'll meet you and make it L25, and I'll see youin Aden before I give a penny more. You can take that, or sheer off."
"Throw us your blooming rope," said the tug skipper.
"There, sir," said Kettle _sotto voce_ to Dayton-Philipps, "you see themarvellousness of it? God has stood by me to the very end. I've saved atleast L10 over that towage, and, by James! I've seen times when a shipmauled about like this would have been bled for four times the amountbefore a tug would pluck her in."
"Then we are out of the wood now?"
"We'll get the canvas off her, and then you can go below and shave. Youcan sleep in a shore bed this night, if you choose, sir, and to-morrowwe'll see about fingering the salvage. There'll be no trouble there now;we shall just have to ask for a check and Lloyds will pay it, and thenyou and the hands will take your share, and I--by James! Mr. Philipps, Ishall be a rich man over this business. I shouldn't be a bit surprisedbut what I finger a snug L500 as my share. Oh, sir, Heaven's been verygood to me over this, and I know it, and I'm grateful. My wife will begrateful too. I wish you could come to our chapel some day and see her."
"You deserve your luck, Captain, if ever a man did in this world, and,by Jove! we'll celebrate it. We've been living on pig's food for longenough. We'll find the best hotel in Cardiff, and we'll get the bestdinner the _chef_ there can produce. I want you to be my guest at that."
"I must ask you to excuse me," said Kettle. "I've received a good dealjust lately, and I'm thankful, and I want to say so. If you don't mind,I'd rather say it alone."
"I understand, Skipper. You're a heap better man than I am, and if youdon't mind, I'd l
ike to shake hands with you. Thanks. We may not meetagain, but I shall never forget you and what we've seen on thismurderous old wreck of a ship. Hullo, there's Cardiff not twenty minutesahead. Well, I must go below and clean up after you've docked her."