More Cargoes Part 12

"The mate said when you came aboard you was just to go and stand near the companion and whistle 'G.o.d Save the Queen' and he'll come up to you to see what's to be done."

"_Whistle!_" said the skipper, trying to moisten his parched lips with his tongue. "I couldn't whistle just now to save my life."

"The mate don't know what to do, and that was to be the signal," said the cook. "He's down there with him givin' 'im drink and amoosin' im.

"Well, you go and whistle it," said the skipper.

The cook wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Ow does it go?" he inquired anxiously, "I never could remember toones."

"Oh, go and tell Bill to do it?" said the skipper impatiently.

Summoned noiselessly by the cook, Bill came up from the forecastle, and on learning what was required of him pursed up his lips and started our n.o.ble anthem with a whistle of such richness and volume that the horrified skipper was almost deafened with it. It acted on the mate like a charm, and he came from below and closed Bill's mouth, none too gently, with a hand which shook with excitement. Then, as quietly as possible, he closed the companion and secured the fastenings.

"He's all right," he said to the skipper breathlessly. "He's a prisoner.

He's 'ad four goes o' whisky, an' he seems inclined to sleep."

"Who let him go down the cabin," demanded the skipper angrily. "It's a fine thing I can't leave the s.h.i.+p for an hour or so but what I come back and find people sitting all round my cabin."

"He let hisself darn," said the cook, who saw a slight opening advantageous to himself in connection with a dish smashed the day before, "an' I was that surprised, not to say alarmed, that I dropped the large dish and smashed it."

"What did he say?" inquired the skipper.

"The blue one, I mean," said the cook, who wanted that matter settled for good, "the one with the place at the end for the gravy to run into."

"What did he say?" vociferated the skipper.

"'E ses,' 'ullo,' he ses, 'you've done it now, old man,'" replied the truthful cook.

The skipper turned a furious face to the mate.

"When the cook come up and told me," said the mate, in answer, "I see at once what was up, so I went down and just talked to him clever like."

"I should like to know what you said," muttered the skipper.

"Well, if you think you can do better than I did you'd better go down and see him," retorted the mate hotly. "After all, it's you what 'e come to see. He's your visitor."

"No offence, Bob," said the skipper. "I didn't mean nothing."

"I don't know nothin' o' horse racin'," continued the mate, with an insufferable air, "and I never 'ad no money troubles in my life, bein'

always brought up proper at 'ome and warned of what would 'appen, but I know a sheriff's officer when I see 'im."

"What am I to do?" groaned the skipper, too depressed even to resent his subordinate's manner, "it's a judgment summons. It's ruin if he gets me."

"Well, so far as I can see, the only thing for you to do is to miss the s.h.i.+p this trip," said the mate, without looking at him. "I can take her out all right."

"I won't," said the skipper, interrupting fiercely.

"Very well, you'll be nabbed," said the mate.

"You've been wanting to handle this craft a long time," said the skipper fiercely. "You could ha' got rid of him if you'd wanted to. He's no business down my cabin."

"I tried everything I could think of," a.s.severated the mate.

"Well, he's come down on my s.h.i.+p without being asked," said the skipper fiercely, "and damme he can stay there. Cast off."

"But," said the mate, "s'pose----"

"Cast off," repeated the skipper. "He's come on my s.h.i.+p, and I'll give him a trip free."

"And where are you and the mate to sleep?" Inquired the cook, who was a man of pessimistic turn of mind and given to forebodings.

"In your bunks," said the skipper brutally. "Cast off there."

The men obeyed, grinning, and the schooner was soon threading her way in the darkness down the river, the skipper listening somewhat nervously for the first intimation of his captive's awakening.

He listened in vain that night, for the prisoner made no sign, but at six o'clock in the morning, when the _Fearless_, coming within sight of the Nore, began to dance like a cork upon the waters, the mate reported hollow groans from the cabin.

"Let him groan," said the skipper briefly, "as holler as he likes."

"Well, I'll just go down and see how he is," said the mate.

"You stay where you are," said the skipper sharply.

"Well, but you ain't going to starve the man?"

"Nothing to do with me," said the skipper ferociously; "if a man likes to come down and stay in my cabin that's his business. I'm not supposed to know he's there, and if I like to lock my cabin up and sleep in a fo's'c'le what's got more fleas in than ten other fo'c's'les put together, and what smells worse than ten fo'c's'les rolled into one, that's my business."

"Yes, but I don't want to berth for'ard too," grumbled the other. "He can't touch me. I can go and sleep in my berth."

"You'll do what I wish, my lad," said the skipper.

"I'm the mate," said the other darkly.

"And I'm the master," said the other; "if the master of a s.h.i.+p can stay down the fo'c's'le, I'm sure a tuppeny-ha'penny mate can."

"The men don't like it," objected the mate.

"d.a.m.n the men," said the skipper politely, "and as to starving the chap, there's a water-bottle full o' water in my state-room, to say nothing of a jug, and a bag o' biscuits under the table."

The mate walked off whistling, and the skipper, by no means so easy in his mind as he pretended to be, began to consider ways and means out of the difficulty which he foresaw must occur when they reached port.

"What sort o' looking chap is he?" he inquired of the cook.

"Big, strong-looking chap," was the reply.

"Look as though he'd make a fuss if I sent you and Bill down below to gag him when we get to the other end?" suggested the skipper.

The cook said that judging by appearances "fuss" would be no word for it.