Afloat at Last Part 2

"But--" I went on, wis.h.i.+ng to pursue my inquiries, when he interrupted me before I was able to proceed any further.

"Whisht! Be aisy now, me darlint," he whispered, with an expressive wink; and, turning round sharply on the stevedores, who, taking advantage of his talking to me, had struck work and were indulging in a similar friendly chat, he began briskly to call them to task for their idleness, raising his voice to the same stentorian pitch that had startled me just now on our first introduction.

"What the mischief are ye standin' star-gazin' there for, ye lazy swabs, chatterin' an' grinnin' away loike a parcel av monkeys?" he cried, waving his arms about as if he were going to knock some of them down.

"If I had my way wid ye, an' had got ye aboord a man-o'-war along o' me, it's 'four bag' I'd give ivery man Jack o' ye. Hoist away an' be blowed to ye, or I'll stop y'r pay, by the howly pokher I will!"

At this, the men, who seemed to understand very well that my friend of the woollen jersey and canvas overalls's hard voice and words did not really mean the terrible threats they conveyed, although the speaker intended to be obeyed, started again briskly s.h.i.+pping the cargo and lowering it down into the hold, grinning the while one to another as if expressing the opinion that their taskmaster's bark was worse than his bite.

"I must kape 'em stirrin' their stoomps, or ilse, sure, the spalpeens 'ud strike worrk the minnit me back's toorned," said he on resuming his talk with me, as if in explanation of this little interlude. "Yez aid y'r name's Grame, didn't ye? I once knew a Grame belongin' to Cork, an'

he wor a pig jobber. S'pose now, he warn't y'r ould father, loike?"

"Certainly not!" cried I, indignantly. "My father is a clergyman and a gentleman and an Englishman, and lives down in the country. Our name, too, is Graham and not Grame, as you p.r.o.nounce it."

"'Pon me cons.h.i.+nsh, I axes y'r pardin, sorr. Sure, an' I didn't mane no harrm," said my friend, apologising in the most handsome way for the unintentional insult; and, putting out a brawny hairy paw like that of Esau's, he gave a grip to my poor little mite of a hand that made each knuckle crack, as he introduced himself in rough and hearty sailor fas.h.i.+on. "Me name's Tim Rooney, as I tould you afore, Misther Gray- ham--sure, an' it's fond I am ov bacon, avic, an' ham, too, by the same token! I'd have ye to know, as ye're a foorst-cla.s.s apprentice--which kills me enthirely wid the laffin' sure!--that I'm the bosun av the Silver Quane; an' as we're agoin' to be s.h.i.+pmets togither, I hopes things'll be moighty plisint atwane us, sure."

"I'm sure I hope so, too," I replied eagerly, thinking him an awfully jolly fellow, and very unlike the man I imagined him to be at first; and we then shook hands again to cement the compact of eternal friends.h.i.+p, although I took care this time that my demonstrative boatswain should not give me so forcible a squeeze with his huge fist as before, observing as I looked round the vessel and up at her towering masts overhead: "What a splendid s.h.i.+p!"

"Aye, she's all that, ivery inch of her from truck to kelson," he answered equally enthusiastically; "an' so's our foorst mate, a sailor all over from the sole av his fut to the crown av his hid."

"And the captain," I inquired, "what sort of a man is he?"

"Arrah, now you're axin' questions," he rejoined with a sly look from his roguish eyes. "D'ye happen to know what's inside av an egg, now, whither it's a chicken, sure, or ownly the yoke an' white, till ye bhrake the s.h.i.+ll?"

"No," said I laughing. "But, we don't find chickens generally in our eggs at home."

"Wait till ye thry one on s.h.i.+pboord," he retorted. "Still, ye can't deny now that ye don't know for sure what's insoide the s.h.i.+ll till ye bhrake it, an' say for yoursilf--eh?"

"No," I a.s.sented to this reasoning; "but, I don't see what that's got to do with the captain."

"Don't ye, honey?" replied he with another expressive wink. "Wait till ye can say for yourself, that's all."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, understanding now that he was shrewd enough not to commit himself to any opinion on the point; so, I did not pursue the inquiry any further.

"Sure, ye'll excuse me, Misther Gray-ham," he said presently, after another word or two on irrelevant matters; "but I must stop yarnin' now, as I expexes the foorst mate aboord ivery minnit, an' he'll be groomblin' like a badger wid a sore tail if those lazy lubbers ain't hove all the cargy in. We've got to warp out o' dock this arternoon, an' the tide'll make about 'six bells'!"

"When is that?" I asked, to know the meaning of this nautical term, which I guessed referred to the time of day, as my friend the boatswain turned round again towards the stevedores, hurrying them on and making them work with a will.

"Thray o'clock. Sure, I forgot ye didn't savvy our sailor's lingo at all, at all," he explained to me between the interval of his orders to the men, shouted out in the same high key as at first. "An', be the same token, as it's now jist toorned two bells, or one o'clock, savin'

your prisince, I've got no toime to lose, me bhoy. Jist d'ye go oop that ladder there, an' wait out av harum's way till I've done me job an'

can come for ye."

He pointed as he spoke to the steps or stairway leading from the main- deck, where I had been standing alongside of him, to the p.o.o.p.

I at once obeyed him; and, ascending with alacrity the p.o.o.p ladder, was able to see from that elevated position the capital way in which he urged on and encouraged the men, until, as if by magic, the heavy boxes and lumbering crates that had but a short time before almost covered the jetty beside the s.h.i.+p, were all hoisted inboard and lowered down into her hold.

Here, below, another gang of stevedores, not less busy than those above, took charge of the stowage of the cargo, slamming the chests and crates about, and so ramming and jamming them between the decks by the aid of jack-screws, that they were soon packed together in one h.o.m.ogeneous ma.s.s--so tightly squeezed that not even a c.o.c.kroach could have crawled in between them, not a single crack or cranny being left vacant.

"Thare now! Sure, an' that job's done wid anyhow for this v'yge, plaize the pigs, ma bouchal!" exclaimed the boatswain with a jolly laugh, after seeing the main-hatchway covered and battened down, and a tarpaulin spread over it to make all snug, gazing round with an air of proud satisfaction, as he slowly made his way up the p.o.o.p ladder again and came up to where I was standing by the rail looking over. "Don't ye think we've made pretty sharp work of it at the last, sorr, eh?"

"I'm sure you have, Mr Rooney," I replied enthusiastically. For, I could not help admiring the way in which he had got the stevedores to work so steadily and speedily in getting in the cargo and clearing the s.h.i.+p's deck, so that it was now trim and orderly in place of being littered over with lumber as previously--the active boatswain helping one here, encouraging another there, and making all laugh occasionally with some racy joke, that seemed to lighten their labour greatly and cause them to set to their task with redoubled vigour.--"It's wonderful how you managed them."

"Arrah, sure it's a way I've got wid me, honey," said he with a wink.

Still, I could see he was pleased with my remark all the same, from the smile of contentment that overspread his face as he added: "Bless ye though, me darlint, sure an' it's ownly blarney arter all!"

"And what is that?" I asked.

"Faix, ya moost go owver to old Oireland to larn, me bhoy," he answered with a laugh. "Wait till ye kiss the blarney stone, an' thin ye'll know!"

"I suppose it's what father calls the _suaviter in modo_," said I, laughing also, he put on such a droll look. "And I think, Mr Rooney, you possess the _fort.i.ter in re_, too, from the way you can speak sometimes."

"Bedad, I don't onderc.u.mstubble," he replied, taking off his cap and scratching his head reflectively, rather taken aback by my Latin quotation; "though if that haythen lingo manes soft sawder, by the powers I've got las.h.i.+ns av it! Howsomedevers, youngster, we naydn't argify the p'int; but if the foorst mate were ownly aboord, d'ye know what I'd loike to do?"

"What?" I inquired.

"Why, trate them dock loompers to grog all round. They've worruked loike blue nayghurs; specially that l'adin' man av theirs, that chap there, see him, wid the big nose on his face? I'd loike to pipe all hands down in the cabin to splice the main-brace, if ownly the foorst mate were aboord," he repeated in a regretful tone. Adding, however, the next moment more briskly: "An', by the blissid piper that played before Moses, there he is!"

CHAPTER THREE.

WARPING OUT OF DOCK.

While the boatswain was still speaking, and expressing his regret at not being able to show the stevedores that he properly appreciated the mode in which they had done their work, I noticed a boy come out from somewhere on the deck below, just underneath where we were standing, and make his way towards the forepart of the s.h.i.+p, apparently in a great hurry about something or other.

I wondered what he was going to do, and was puzzling my head about the matter, not liking to interrupt Tim Rooney, when the boy himself the next instant satisfied my curiosity by going up to the s.h.i.+p's bell, which was suspended in its usual place, under the break of the forecastle, just above and in front of the windla.s.s bits away forward; when, catching hold of a lanyard hanging from the end of the clapper, he struck four sharp raps against the side of the bell, the sound ringing through the air and coming back distinctly to us aft on the p.o.o.p. I should, however, explain that I, of course, was not familiar with all these nautical details then, only learning them later on, mainly through Tim Rooney's help, when my knowledge of s.h.i.+ps and of sea terms became more extended.

Just as the last stroke of the bell rang out above the babble of the men's voices and the shuffling noise of their feet moving about, the four strokes being sounded in pairs, "cling-clang, cling-clang!" like a double postman's knock, a slim gentlemanly young man, with brown hair and beard and moustache, who was dressed in a natty blue uniform like mine, save that he wore a longer jacket and had a band of gold lace round his cap in addition to the solitary crown and anchor badge which my head-gear rejoiced in, appeared on top of the gangway leading from the wharf alongside. The next instant, jumping down from the top of the bulwarks on to the main-deck, a couple of strides took him to the foot of the p.o.o.p ladder, quickly mounting which, he stood beside us.

"Sure, an' it's proud I am to say yez, sorr," exclaimed the boatswain, touching the peak of his dilapidated cheese-cutter in salute, and with a smile of welcome on his genial face; "though it's lucky, bedad, ye didn't come afore, Misther Mackay, or faix ye'd have bin in toime to be too soon."

"How's that, Rooney?" inquired the other with a pleasant laugh, showing his nice white teeth. "Instead of being too early, I'm afraid I am a little late."

"The divil a bit, sorr," replied Rooney. "We've only jist this viry minnit struck down the last av the cargo; an' if ye'd come afore, why, it's rucks.h.i.+ons there'd a bin about our skulkin', I know."

"No, no," laughingly said the young officer; who, I suppose, was older than he looked, for Tim Rooney told me in a loud whisper while he was speaking that he was the "foorst mate" of the s.h.i.+p. "I'm not half such a growler as you are, bosun; but, all the same, I'm glad you've got the job done. Who's been looking after the dock mateys below, seeing to the stowage?"

"Misther Saunders, sorr," promptly answered Rooney. Adding aside for my enlightenment as to who this worthy might be: "The 'sicond mate,' sure, mavourneen."

"Ah, then we need have no fears about its being well done," rejoined Mr Mackay, or the first mate, as I'd better call him. "Who is our friend here alongside of you, bosun? I don't recollect having the pleasure of seeing him before. Another youngster from Leadenhall Street--eh?"

He looked at me inquiringly as he asked the question.

"Yes, sorr. He's Misther Gray-ham, sorr; jist come down to jine the Silver Quane, sorr, as foorst-cla.s.s apprentice," replied the boatswain with a sly wink to the other, which I was quick enough to catch. Adding in a stage whisper, which I also could not help overhearing: "An' it's foorst-cla.s.s he is entoirely--a raal broth av a bhoy, sure."

"Indeed," said Mr Mackay, smiling at the Irishman's irony at my expense, in return no doubt for my whimsical a.s.sumption of dignity when telling him who I was. "I suppose he's come to fill the place of young Rawlings, who, you may remember, cut and run from us at Singapore on our last voyage out?"

"I s'pose so, sorr," rejoined Tim laconically.