Part 33

“No, sir,” said Ned eagerly.

“Go up and read the Prayer-book to him, and he’ll vanish in a cloud of smoke,” said the skipper.

Ned gazed at him for a moment speechlessly, and then going up on deck leaned over the side and swore himself faint. The cook and Simpson came up and listened respectfully, contenting themselves with an occasional suggestion when the old man’s memory momentarily failed him.

For the rest of the voyage the two culprits suffered all the inconvenience peculiar to a loss of citizenship. The skipper blandly ignored them, and on two or three occasions gave great offence by attempting to walk through Bill as he stood on the deck. Speculation was rife in the forecastle as to what would happen when they got ashore, and it was not until Northsea was sighted that the skipper showed his hand. Then he appeared on deck with their effects done up neatly in two bundles, and pitched them on the hatches. The crew stood and eyed him expectantly.

“Ned,” said the skipper sharply.

“Sir,” said the old man.

“As soon as we’re made fast,” said the other, “I want you to go ashore for me and fetch an undertaker and a policeman. I can’t quite make up my mind which we want.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” murmured the old man.

The skipper turned away, and seizing the helm from the mate took his ship in. He was so intent upon this business that he appeared not to notice the movements of Bill and Tommy as they edged nervously towards their bundles, and waited impatiently for the schooner to get alongside the quay. Then he turned to the mate and burst into a loud laugh as the couple, bending suddenly, snatched up their bundles, and, clambering up the side, sprang ashore and took to their heels. The mate too, and a faint but mirthless echo came from the other end of the schooner.

A DISCIPLINARIAN

“There’s no doubt about it,” said the night watchman, “but what dissipline’s a very good thing, but it don’t always act well. For instance, I ain’t allowed to smoke on this wharf, so when I want a pipe I either ’ave to go over to the ‘Queen’s ’ed,’ or sit in a lighter. If I’m in the ‘Queen’s ’ed’ I can’t look arter the wharf, an’ once when I was sitting in a lighter smoking the chap come aboard an’ cast off afore I knew what he was doing, an’ took me all the way to Greenwich. He said he’d often played that trick on watchmen.

“The worst man for dissipline I ever shipped with was Cap’n Tasker, of the Lapwing. He’d got it on the brain bad. He was a prim, clean-shaved man except for a little side-whisker, an’ always used to try an’ look as much like a naval officer as possible.

“I never ’ad no sort of idea what he was like when I jined the ship, an’ he was quite quiet and peaceable until we was out in the open water. Then the cloven hoof showed itself, an’ he kicked one o’ the men for coming on deck with a dirty face, an’ though the man told him he never did wash becos his skin was so delikit, he sent the bos’en to turn the hose on him.

“The bos’en seemed to take a hand in everything. We used to do everything by his whistle, it was never out of his mouth scarcely, and I’ve known that man to dream of it o’ nights, and sit up in his sleep an’ try an’ blow his thumb. He whistled us to swab decks, whistled us to grub, whistled us to every blessed thing.

“Though we didn’t belong to any reg’ler line, we’d got a lot o’ passengers aboard, going to the Cape, an’ they thought a deal o’ the skipper. There was one young leftenant aboard who said he reminded him o’ Nelson, an’ him an’ the skipper was as thick as two thieves. Nice larky young chap he was, an’ more than one o’ the crew tried to drop things on him from aloft when he wasn’t looking.

“Every morning at ten we was inspected by the skipper, but that wasn’t enough for the leftenant, and he persuaded the old man to drill us. He said it would do us good an’ amuse the passengers, an’ we ’ad to do all sorts of silly things with our arms an’ legs, an’ twice he walked the skipper to the other end of the ship, leaving twenty-three sailor-men bending over touching their toes, an’ wondering whether they’d ever stand straight again.

“The very worst thing o’ the lot was the boat-drill. A chap might be sitting comfortable at his grub, or having a pipe in his bunk, when the bos’en’s whistle would scream out to him that the ship was sinking, an’ the passengers drownding, and he was to come an’ git the boats out an’ save ’em. Nice sort o’ game it was too. We had to run like mad with kegs o’ water an’ bags o’ biscuit, an’ then run the boats out an’ launch ’em. All the men were told off to certain boats, an’ the passengers too. The only difference was, if a passenger didn’t care about taking a hand in the game he didn’t, but we had to.

“One o’ the passengers who didn’t play was Major Miggens. He was very much agin it, an’ called it tomfoolery; he never would go to his boat, but used to sit and sneer all the time.

“‘It’s only teaching the men to cut an’ run,’ he said to the skipper one day; ‘if there ever was any need they’d run to the boats an’ leave us here. Don’t tell me.’

“‘That’s not the way I should ha’ expected to hear you speak of British sailors, major,’ ses the skipper rather huffy.

“‘British swearers,’ ses the major, sniffing. ‘You don’t hear their remarks when that whistle is blown. It’s enough to bring a judgment on the ship.’

“‘If you can point ’em out to me I’ll punish ’em,’ says the skipper very warm.

“‘I’m not going to point ’em out,’ ses the major. ‘I symperthise with ’em too much. They don’t get any of their beauty sleep, pore chaps, an’ they want it, every one of ’em.’

“I thought that was a very kind remark o’ the major to make, but o’ course some of the wimmin larfed. I s’pose they think men don’t want beauty sleep, as it’s called.

“I heard the leftenant symperthising with the skipper arter that. He said the major was simply jealous because the men drilled so beautifully, an’ then they walked aft, the leftenant talking very earnest an’ the skipper shaking his head at something he was saying.

“It was just two nights arter this. I’d gone below an’ turned in when I began to dream that the major had borrowed the bos’en’s whistle an’ was practising on it. I remember thinking in my sleep what a comfort it was it was only the major, when one of the chaps give me a dig in the back an’ woke me.

“‘Tumble up,’ ses he, ‘the ship’s afire.’

“I rushed up on deck, an’ there was no mistake about who was blowing the whistle. The bell was jangling horrible, smoke was rolling up from the hatches, an’ some o’ the men was dragging out the hose an’ tripping up the passengers with it as they came running up on deck. The noise and confusion was fearful.