The Flying Bo'sun Part 2

"I heard that he bought a gas motor cycle; they were new in the East then. He had one s.h.i.+pped to Bellingham, and ran it without a m.u.f.fler. It made such a noise that horses ran away, and chickens flew about, and eventually the townspeople ran him out of town."

It was now past eight bells, and from the angry sound of Olsen's feet on the deck above, I knew that he could take care of what steak was left.

"Well," said the Captain, "that reminds me of an experience I once had on the 'Glory of the Seas,' off River Plate. Not an electrical storm, but worse, a squall without warning. You have to relieve Olsen now, so I will finish some other time in your watch below."

The cook was in the pantry, humming his favorite song, omitting the words.

It was my watch below, but I remained long enough on deck for Olsen to finish his breakfast. Away towards the eastward the sky was blood red, and the northwest wind was dying out. If the old sailor's adage holds good, then "A red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." I had been familiar with those signs in the Northern Pacific for years. In the winter time it usually meant a gale. When Olsen returned, I laid out the work to be done during the forenoon. "Get together your reef-earrings, have your halyards coiled down ready for running," I said. "We may have a blow before long."

"Yaw," said the Dane, "I don't like the sky to the eastward."

In the cabin, the Captain was sorting over some old letters. "Here,"

said he, "is a picture of my two boys. They are living in Berkeley.

Their mother died two years ago while I was in South America. The doctor said it was T. B." With tears in his eyes he said, "I suppose it had to be, but don't you know, they are quite happy. They are living with their aunt. Oh, children forget so soon, so soon." Picking up the pictures, and with a look of hatred in his eyes he said, "The sea is no place for a married man."

At seven bells I came on deck to take the meridian alt.i.tude of the sun.

It was now partly cloudy, and hard to get a clear horizon, as the sun would dive in and out from behind the clouds. What little wind there was came from the southeast.

"I guess we shall have to rely on your dead reckoning," said the Captain, "the barometer is dropping, and it looks as if we are in for a gale."

At four o'clock in the afternoon it commenced to blow from the southeast. We took in staysails, topsails and flying-jib. She was close-hauled and headed southwest. In the first dog-watch the wind increased.

"Call all hands," said the Captain, "we must reef her down."

The spanker-boom projected over the stern about twenty feet. It was no easy matter reefing this sail, with the wind and sea increasing and her s.h.i.+pping an occasional sea. There was some danger of one's being washed overboard and very little chance of saving a life. But now was the time to find out if our sailors were from the old school. I loved the storms, and the wild raging seas and angry skies,--no sea gull ever enjoyed the tempest more than I.

"Here you, Johnson, Nelson and Swanson, lay out on the boom, haul out and pa.s.s your reef-earring, and be quick about it."

Swanson said: "I'll not go out there. The foot-rope is too short."

"By G.o.d, you'll go out there if I have to haul you with a handy billy."

"Yes, d.a.m.n you, get out there," roared the Captain. "You call yourself a sailor; it is a beachcomber you are!" The Captain worked himself into a rage. "By Heavens, we will make sailors of you before this trip is over."

Swanson with a look of rage, decided that an alternative of the boom-end with an occasional dip into the raging sea underneath and elevation on high as she rolled, was much preferable to what he could expect should he refuse to obey orders. With the spanker and mainsail close-reefed we were pretty snug.

"If the wind increases it will be necessary to heave her to; that will do; the watch below," said I.

Old Charlie was coiling down ropes. "Mr. Mate, look out for Swanson, I just heard him say that this s.h.i.+p is too small for you and him. He is very disagreeable in the foc'sle. He and One-Eyed Riley came near having a sc.r.a.p over the sour beans at noon today."

Three hours later the wind increased to a living gale. Before we could let go the halyards it blew our foresail away.

"My G.o.d," cried the Captain, "and brand new. Just begged my owners for it. Six hundred dollars gone to h.e.l.l! Get the mainsail and inner jib off lively. Heave her to under the main jib." Speaking to the man at the wheel: "Don't let her go off, d.a.m.n you, let her come to, and put your wheel in 'mids.h.i.+ps."

Throughout the night the wind kept up, with the seas battering our deck-load, until there was danger of having it washed overboard. But about seven o'clock in the morning it abated some. The old s.h.i.+p had the expression of a wet water-spaniel coming out of the water before shaking himself. Defiant as she was to race away from storm and strife, she was hopelessly crippled by the mountainous sea that was trying to swallow her up in its angry roll.

"Never mind about anything," said the Captain, "get the d.a.m.ned old spare foresail up anyway, we will have to patch it and get it onto her. Olsen, how do the stores and flour look? Yes, it is aft on the port side."

"The rats have torn two sacks of flour open, sir."

"Great G.o.d, have they gotten in there already? Run and get Toby, and put him down there, I will attend to the lazarette hatch myself from now on."

So saying, he walked, to the rail and levelled his gla.s.s at an approaching s.h.i.+p.

Out of the murky horizon loomed up the U. S. transport "Dix," with troops bound for Manila to aid in the capture of Aguinaldo. As she pa.s.sed us to windward Old Charlie remarked, "There will be few aboard of her to eat breakfast this morning, the way she pitches and rolls."

It was plain to be seen that the Captain was in no mood for comedy this particular morning. With the loss of his new foresail, and rats in the flour, and worst of all forgetting to wind the chronometer, a fatal result of his preoccupation with the storm, he was the picture of a man doomed to despair, and I, for one, approached him very gingerly.

With a look of disdain at Old Charlie, he said, "To h.e.l.l with breakfast!

All you beachcombers think of is eating. Haul the gaff to windward. Bend on the old foresail, or we shall be blown clear across to j.a.pan."

Towards noon the wind let up a little, enough to carry lower sails. Even with a heavy sea we were able to make five and one-half knots, but were off our course four points, as the wind was still south southeast.

"Mr. Mate, the Captain wants to see you."

"All right, Olsen."

In the cabin the Captain was walking in a circle. "d.a.m.n it all," he cried, "why couldn't _you_remind me to wind the chronometer?"

"I did not know that you had one on board, sir."

"h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation! Go to sea without a chronometer? Who ever heard of such a thing!" Swinging his arms wildly over his head, he said, "Where in blazes did you go to sea?"

"Captain," said I, "I have made a twenty-thousand mile trip without a chronometer with old Captain Sigelhorst in the bark "Quickstep," not so long ago. We can surely get our position from a pa.s.sing s.h.i.+p, and if not, we can make land, say off San Diego, and easily correct our position for Greenwich time."

"Well, it is a d.a.m.ned poor business, anyway."

Just then we were interrupted by Olsen, who reported to the Captain that Swanson was sick and refused to come on deck.

CHAPTER III

BEECHAM'S PILLS ARE WORTH A GUINEA THOUGH THEY COST BUT EIGHTEEN PENCE

In those days, twenty years ago, sailing schooners had few men before the mast, and every man was called upon to do a man's work. If one of the crew were sick, it usually caused a great deal of trouble both fore and aft. In bad and stormy weather it was not uncommon for the old and seasoned sailor to play sick, provided he could get away with it. The usual symptom was lame back, so that the appet.i.te might not be questioned. When the s.h.i.+p would emerge into fine weather, marvel of marvels, the sailor would recover in a moment.

"Sick, is he?" said the Captain, and pointed to me, saying: "Go forward and see what the trouble is."

"I am sure," I replied, "that he will be on deck before long, sir."

"All I have in the medicine chest is pills, yes, d.a.m.n it, pills," and he waved me forward.

In the forecastle Swanson was lying in his bunk with the blankets pulled up over his head, sound asleep, and beside him, lying on a bench, was all that remained of a breakfast piece of hardtack, and a large bone, with teethmarks in the gristle.

"Well," thought I, "if he is getting as close to the bone as this, he can't be very sick." I awoke him, saying: "What is the matter with you, Swanson? Why aren't you on deck? This is not your watch below."