Tramping on Life Part 27

I lie. I must tell the truth in these memoirs.

I had told on him.

But my motive was only an itch to see what would then take place. But when I saw that the issue would be an obvious one: that he would merely be spirited forth to sea again, and this time, _forced_ to work, I felt a little sorry for the man. At the same time, I admit I wanted to observe the denouement myself, of his case ... and as I now intended to desert the s.h.i.+p, it would have to take place in Sydney.

So, on the second night of Franz's incarceration, when nearly everybody was away on sh.o.r.e-leave, I took the captain's bunch of keys, and I let the shanghaied man, the mutineer, the man from Alsace-Lorraine--out!

It was not a very dark night. Franz stole along like a rat till he reached the centre of the dock. There he gave a great shout of defiance ... why, I learned later....

The _Lord Summerville_, which had, after all, beat us in by two days, despite Captain Schantze's boast, was lying on the other side of our dock. And her mate and several sailors thus became witnesses of what happened.

The shout brought, of course, our few men who remained on watch, on deck, and over on the dock after Franz ... who allowed himself to be caught ... the dock was English ground ... the s.h.i.+p was German ... a good point legally, as the canny Franz had foreseen.

His clothes were almost torn from his body.

Miller accidentally showed up, coming back from sh.o.r.e. And he joined in.

"Come back with us, you verfluchte _Alsatz_-Lothringer."

The Englishmen from the _Lord Summerville_ now began calling out, "Let him alone!" and "I say, give the lad fair play!"

Some of them leaped down on the dock in a trice.

"Who the h.e.l.l let him out?" roared the mate.

I stood on deck, holding my breath, and ready to bolt in case Franz betrayed me. But nevertheless my blood was running high and happy over the excitement I had caused by unlocking the door.

"No one let me out. I picked the lock. Will that suit you?" lied Franz, protecting me.

"What's the lad been and done?" asked the mate of the _Lord Summerville_.

"I was shanghaied in New York," put in Franz swiftly, "and I demand English justice."

"And you shall get it, my man!" answered the mate proudly, "for you have been a.s.saulted on English ground, as I'll stand witness."

A whistle was blown. Men came running. Soon Franz was outside the jurisdiction of Germany.

The next day Captain Schantze stalked about, hardly speaking to Miller.

He was angry and laid the blame at the latter's door.

"Miller, why in the name of G.o.d didn't you guard that fellow better? An English court ... you know what _they'll_ do to us!"

Miller spread his hands outward, shrugged his shoulders expressively, remained in silence. The two mates and the captain ate the rest of their supper in a silence that bristled.

The s.h.i.+p was detained for ten days more after its cargo had been unloaded.

At the trial, during which the "old maids" and The Sailors' Aid Society came to the fore, Captain Schantze roared his indignant best--so much so that the judge warned him that he was not on his s.h.i.+p but on English ground....

Franz got a handsome verdict in his favour, of course.

And for several days he was seen, rolling drunk about the streets, by our boys, who now looked on him as a pretty clever person.

It was my time to run away--if I ever intended to. Within the next day or so we were to take on coal for the West Coast. We were to load down so heavily, the mate, who had conceived a hatred of me, informed me, that even in fair weather the scuppers would be a-wash. Significantly he added there would be much danger for a man who was not liked aboard a certain s.h.i.+p ... by the mates ... much danger of such a person's being washed overboard. For the waves, you know, washed over the deck of so heavily loaded a s.h.i.+p at will.

On the _Lord Summerville_ was a mad Pennsylvania boy who had, like myself, gone to sea for the first time ... but he had had no uncle to beat timidity into him ... and he had dared s.h.i.+p as able seaman on the big sky-sailed lime-juicer, and had gloriously acquitted himself.

He was a tall, rangy young bullock of a lad. He could split any door with his fist. He liked to drink and fight. And he liked women in the grog-house sense.

One of his chief exploits had been the punching of the second mate in the jaw when both were high a-loft. Then he had caught him about the waist, and held him till he came to, to keep him from falling. The mate had used bad language at him.

Hoppner had worked from the first as if he had been born to the sea.

He and I met in a saloon. The plump little barmaid had made him what she called, "A man's drink," while me she had served contemptuously with a ginger ale.

Hoppner boasted of his exploits. I, of mine.

"I tell you what, Gregory, since we're both jumping s.h.i.+p here, let's be pals for awhile and travel together."

"I'm with you, Hoppner."

"And why jump off empty-handed, since we are jumping off?"

"What is it you're driving at?"

"There ought to be a lot of loot on two boats!"

"Suppose we get caught?" I asked cautiously.

"Anybody that's worth a d.a.m.n will take a chance in this world. Aren't you game to take a chance?"

"Of course I'm game."

"Well, then, you watch your chance and I'll watch mine. I'll hook into everything valuable that's liftable on my s.h.i.+p and you tend to yours in the same fas.h.i.+on."

We struck hands in partners.h.i.+p, parted, and agreed to meet at the wharf-gate the next night, just after dark, he with his loot, I with mine.

I spent the morning of the following day prospecting. I had seen the captain put the s.h.i.+p's money for the paying of the crew in a drawer, and turn the key.

But first, with a curious primitive instinct, I fixed on a small ham and a loaf of rye bread as part of the projected booty, in spite of the fact that, if I but laid hands on the s.h.i.+p's money, I would have quite a large sum.

It was the piquaresque romance of what I was about to do that moved me.