Looking Seaward Again Part 11

"Good-bye, Dutchy. _You_ can do what you blessed well like, but I am off."

And before the captain had recovered from his sleepy amazement his mate had slipped over the side into a boat. That was the last Dutchy ever saw of his prospective brother-in-law.

James Leigh stowed himself away aboard a Yankee full-rigged packet-s.h.i.+p which had to sail the following morning, and when the coast was clear he made his appearance. He was subjected for a time to that brutal treatment which at one time disgraced the American mercantile marine,[3] but being a smart young fellow who could do the work of a competent seaman, and handle his "dukes" with apt.i.tude, the officers began to show partiality towards him, and before many days he became quite a favourite with them and with the captain. To his surprise, when the vessel had been at Philadelphia a few days, he was asked to qualify for the second officer's berth. He received the compliment with modest reserve, but his inward pride gave him trouble to control. This was a position of no mean order even to men far beyond _his_ years, but the thought of serving as an officer under the magic Stars and Stripes was more fascinating than any pride he had in the size of the vessel. A life of slash and dash was just the kind of experience that appealed to a full-blooded rip like Jim Leigh, so that he needed no persuading to take the offer, and adapt himself with fervour to the new conditions, which invested him with the knuckle-duster, the belaying pin, and the six-shooter. The _Betty Sharp_ was chartered for London instead of the Far East, as was expected, and twenty days after pa.s.sing Cape Henry she entered the Thames; but even in that short time the sprightly officer had made quite a name for himself, by his methods of training and taming a heterogeneous team of packet rats.

As the vessel was being hauled into the Millwall Docks, spectators were attracted by the disfigured condition of many of the crew. A gentleman came aboard to solicit business, and after a few preliminary remarks he said--

"Pardon me, captain, but I cannot help noticing that some of your sailors look as though there had been fighting. Did they mutiny?"

"Well, no; it was not exactly mutiny, but it was getting near to it."

"It must have been an anxious time for you, sir," continued the visitor.

"Well, no; I guess I was not anxious at all, for my officers went about their rough work with some muscular vigour. The war-paint was soon put on and the rebellion squashed out of them. The chief officer, understand, is an old hand at the game; and that there young fellow, the second officer, takes to the business kindly. So we'll get along right away."

When the vessel was moored and the decks cleared up, the second officer and the boatswain asked the captain's permission to go ash.o.r.e for the evening. This was granted, with a strong admonition to keep straight and return aboard sober. The boatswain was a short, thick-set man, with no education, but a sailor all over in his habits, manner, and conversation, and was just the kind of person to have as a companion if there was any trouble about. The two sailors were like schoolboys on a holiday. They were well received by their friends, male and female. In the West of London both were objects of interest, and told their tales with unfailing exaggeration. The boatswain was especially attractive, owing to his rugged personality and his unaffected manner. His sanguinary tales of American packet-s.h.i.+p life were much canva.s.sed for, and being a good story-teller, he embellished them with incidents that gave them a fine finis.h.i.+ng touch. He was asked by some young ladies if he had ever done any courting.

"Oh yes," said he; "I have mixed a lot of that up with other things.

The very last time I was stranded in Chili I got on courting a girl whose mother kept a bit of an hotel, and I was getting on famously, when one day the old lady told me I wasn't to come about her house after her daughter; but I kept on going in a sort of secret way, and one night I was sitting in what you would call the kitchen, and the old girl sneaked in with a great big stick. I saw the fury in her eye.

She made a go for me. I couldn't get out, so I bobbed under a four-legged wooden table, picked it up on my shoulders, and tried to protect my legs as much as I could. The girl screamed, and rushed to open the door, and then called out for me to run. I didn't need any telling. I rushed out, the old witch laying on the table with all her might until I got out of her reach. And that is the way I am here, because I s.h.i.+pped at once aboard the _Betty Sharp_, for fear I might be copped and put in choky by the old fiend."

"Have you heard from your sweetheart since?" asked one of the ladies.

"No," said Jack the boatswain; "nor I don't want to. I'll soon get another where they knows how to treat genuine sweetheartin'."

Jim Leigh at this point said--

"Now then 'Shortlegs,' we must be going. I've heard that yarn fifty times."

"Yes, _you_ have; but these here ladies haven't."

"Quite right," said the ladies. "And we would like you to continue telling some more of your love experiences on the Spanish Main."

Jack, however, said--

"Well, not to-night. Jim wants to get away. I'll come some other time."

The two sailors then left and made their way back to the docks, and as they approached the East End a fog which had been hanging over became so dense that they could not see where they were, and after groping about for a couple of hours they ran against a house which had a light in the window. Jim rapped at the door, and a man presented himself. He was only partially clad. His voice and dialect left no doubt as to the locality they were in.

"Wot yer doin' of 'ere this time o' night? 'Ave yer come to rob some o' these yere 'ouses, or wot's yer gime?"

Mr. Leigh was a talkative person, and hastened to explain where they were going, and that they could not find their way. The man asked the two officers in, and presented them to a woman who sat by the fire with a shawl over her shoulders. She was young, and seemed to be of the gipsy type; tall, handsome features, jet black hair, sparkling eyes and eyebrows; and when she asked them to be seated, her voice and accent gave the impression of a lady. She chatted quite freely to the sailors about their profession and the countries they had visited, which led them to suppose that the lady was a great traveller. She, however, told them that her knowledge was derived from books.

Shortlegs was mute. While the others talked he was closely scrutinizing the surroundings. Their host was a tall, well-set man, with s.h.i.+fty, evil-looking eyes that were kept busy, as was his tongue.

After they had been in the house some time, he asked them if they wished to stay all night.

"We don't want ter press yer, but if yer like we've got a comfortable room. But ye'll both 'ave to sleep in one bed."

"We don't mind that," said James Leigh. "Show us where it is."

They bade the lady good morning, as it was 2 a.m., and they were escorted upstairs to a moderately-furnished room with an iron bed, wooden washstand, wardrobe, two chairs, and canvased floor.

"Well, do you think it'll do?" asked the host.

"Yes," replied James, in a jaunty way. "We've slept in many a worse place than this, Shorty, haven't we? See that we're called at six in the morning, gov'nor."

"That's all right," said the s.h.i.+fty-eyed host; "we're early birds, we are, in this 'ere 'ouse. We goes to bed early too. Wot'll ye 'ave for breakfast?"

"Never mind breakfast; we'll get that when we get aboard," replied Leigh. "Good-night; it's very good of you to put us up."

The host remarked that he was pleased to do a kindness to anybody, but especially to sailors, and then he slid out of the room. Shortlegs watched him downstairs, then closed the door. When he looked round his second officer was half undressed. He whispered to him not to undress, and that if he knew as much about bugs as he did he would need no telling.

"Oh! d---- the bugs and everything else. I'm in for a good nap."

"Well," said Shortlegs, "you may do as you like, but I'm a-going to keep my clothes on."

Jim, however, did not heed his companion's advice; he undressed, jumped into bed, and was soon asleep. Shortlegs sat smoking his pipe for a while, then rose and commenced a survey of the room. He looked under the bed, into a cupboard, behind the curtains, and then sat down and pondered over their strange experience. At last he pulled his boots and coat off, and was preparing to get into bed, when it occurred to him that he had not examined the wardrobe; so he jumped up, opened the door, stood gazing at the inside, closed the door, went to the bed, shook his mate into consciousness, and speaking in a loud whisper, he said--

"Jim, for G.o.d's sake get up!"

"What for?" said Jim.

"Because there's a dead 'un in the wardrobe," replied Shortlegs.

"A what?" asked Mr. Leigh.

"A corpse," responded his companion.

"Go on, don't talk such rot!"

"Very well, look for yourself," said the boatswain, who again opened the door, and exposed the dead body to view. James Leigh turned pallid and almost inarticulate. He could only touch his friend on the shoulder, and utter--

"My G.o.d, where are we? What shall we do with the corpse?"

Visions of being had up for murder had seized him. But he was quickly pulled up by his more discreet s.h.i.+pmate, who told him to cease speaking, allow the dead 'un to remain where he was, keep their boots off, open the window quietly, see how far it was to drop or to lower themselves down with the bedclothes. This being done, they found the plan of escape impracticable without being "nabbed," so they took the bold resolve of going out as they had come in, with their boots on.

Before they had got half-way down the stairs they heard suppressed conversation. It was evident they were detected.

"Use your knuckle-duster, Jim, if necessary, and charge them with murder," whispered Shortlegs.

"You leave that to me, Shorty; I'm going to get out of this."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the room door, which was ajar, opened, and the man who showed them upstairs stood before them.

He was in his sleeping clothes. They requested him to open the outer door and let them out, as they did not desire to remain any longer in the house. He asked why they were leaving comfortable lodgings on such a night. Jim being the spokesman, said they didn't like sleeping with corpses, and raising his voice with nervous courage, declared that if the door was not immediately opened he would stand a good chance of being put in the wardrobe where the other poor devil was.

The wretched bully, s.h.i.+vering with pa.s.sion and sudden fear, made a grab at Jim, and in an instant he was lying on the floor, and the two sailors opened the door and stepped out into the cold fog.

"My G.o.d, what an experience!" said Shorty. "What a lucky thing I looked in the wardrobe. We might have been given up to the police as the murderers; and that lady, as we thought, what a demon she must be to be connected with such."

"My dear fellow," said the second mate, "don't say anything wrong against the lady. How do we know but she is a prisoner, or in some way beholden to the rascal. What a strange thing she never appeared. I wonder if she was there. She must have been, as we heard voices."

"That's right enough," said the boatswain; "but was it her voice?"