Many Cargoes

  The master of the Sarah Jane had been missing for two days, and all onboard, with the exception of the boy, whom nobody troubled about, werefull of joy at the circumstance. Twice before had the skipper, whosehabits might, perhaps, be best described as irregular, missed his ship,and word had gone forth that the third time would be the last. His berthwas a good one, and the mate wanted it in place of his own, which waswanted by Ted Jones, A. B.

  "Two hours more," said the mate anxiously to the men, as they stoodleaning against the side, "and I take the ship out."

  "Under two hours'll do it," said Ted, peering over the side and watchingthe water as it slowly rose over the mud. "What's got the old man, Iwonder?"

  "I don't know, and I don't care," said the mate. "You chaps stand by meand it'll be good for all of us. Mr. Pearson said distinct the last timethat if the skipper ever missed his ship again it would be his last tripin her, and he told me afore the old man that I wasn't to wait twominutes at any time, but to bring her out right away."

  "He's an old fool," said Bill Loch, the other hand; "and nobody'll misshim but the boy, and he's been looking reg'lar worried all the morning.He looked so worried at dinner time that I give 'im a kick to cheer himup a bit. Look at him now."

  The mate gave a supercilious glance in the direction of the boy, andthen turned away. The boy, who had no idea of courting observation,stowed himself away behind the windlass; and, taking a letter from hispocket, perused it for the fourth time.

  "Dear Tommy," it began. "I take my pen in and to inform you that I'mstayin here and cant get away for the reason that I lorst my cloes atcribage larst night, also my money, and everything beside. Don't speekto a living sole about it as the mate wants my birth, but pack up sumcloes and bring them to me without saying nuthing to noboddy. The matescloths will do becos I havent got enny other soot, dont tell 'im. Youneeden't trouble about soks as I've got them left. My bed is so bad Imust now conclude. Your affecshunate uncle and captin Joe Bross. P.S.Dont let the mate see you come, or else he wont let you go."

  "Two hours more," sighed Tommy, as he put the letter back in his pocket."How can I get any clothes when they're all locked up? And aunt said Iwas to look after 'im and see he didn't get into no mischief."

  He sat thinking deeply, and then, as the crew of the Sarah Jane steppedashore to take advantage of a glass offered by the mate, he crept downto the cabin again for another desperate look round. The only articlesof clothing visible belonged to Mrs. Bross, who up to this trip had beensailing in the schooner to look after its master. At these he gazedhard.

  "I'll take 'em and try an' swop 'em for some men's clothes," said hesuddenly, snatching the garments from the pegs. "She wouldn't mind"; andhastily rolling them into a parcel, together with a pair of carpetslippers of the captain's, he thrust the lot into an old biscuit bag.Then he shouldered his burden, and, going cautiously on deck, gained theshore, and set off at a trot to the address furnished in the letter.

  It was a long way, and the bag was heavy. His first attempt at barterwas alarming, for the pawnbroker, who had just been cautioned by thepolice, was in such a severe and uncomfortable state of morals, that theboy quickly snatched up his bundle again and left. Sorely troubled hewalked hastily along, until, in a small bye street, his glance fell upona baker of mild and benevolent aspect, standing behind the counter ofhis shop.

  "If you please, sir," said Tommy, entering, and depositing his bag onthe counter, "have you got any cast-off clothes you don't want?"

  The baker turned to a shelf, and selecting a stale loaf cut it inhalves, one of which he placed before the boy.

  "I don't want bread," said Tommy desperately; "but mother has just died,and father wants mourning for the funeral. He's only got a new suit withhim, and if he can change these things of mother's for an old suit, he'dsell his best ones to bury her with."

  He shook the articles out on the counter, and the baker's wife, who hadjust come into the shop, inspected them rather favourably.

  "Poor boy, so you've lost your mother," she said, turning the clothesover. "It's a good skirt, Bill."

  "Yes, ma'am," said Tommy dolefully.

  "What did she die of?" inquired the baker.

  "Scarlet fever," said Tommy, tearfully, mentioning the only disease heknew.

  "Scar--Take them things away," yelled the baker, pushing the clothes onto the floor, and following his wife to the other end of the shop. "Take'em away directly, you young villain."

  His voice was so loud, his manner so imperative, that the startled boy,without stopping to argue, stuffed the clothes pell-mell into the bagagain and departed. A farewell glance at the clock made him look almostas horrified as the baker.

  "There's no time to be lost," he muttered, as he began to run; "eitherthe old man'll have to come in these or else stay where he is."

  He reached the house breathless, and paused before an unshaven man intime-worn greasy clothes, who was smoking a short clay pipe with muchenjoyment in front of the door.

  "Is Cap'n Bross here?" he panted.

  "He's upstairs," said the man, with a leer, "sitting in sackcloth andashes, more ashes than sackcloth. Have you got some clothes for him?"

  "Look here," said Tommy. He was down on his knees with the mouth of thebag open again, quite in the style of the practised hawker. "Give me anold suit of clothes for them. Hurry up. There's a lovely frock."

  "Blimey," said the man, staring, "I've only got these clothes. Wot d'yertake me for? A dook?"

  "Well, get me some somewhere," said Tommy. "If you don't the cap'n 'llhave to come in these, and I'm sure he won't like it."

  "I wonder what he'd look like," said the man, with a grin. "Damme if Idon't come up and see."

  "Get me some clothes," pleaded Tommy.

  "I wouldn't get you clothes, no, not for fifty pun," said the manseverely. "Wot d'yer mean wanting to spoil people's pleasure in thatway? Come on, come and tell the cap'n what you've got for 'im, I want to'ear what he ses. He's been swearing 'ard since ten o'clock thismorning, but he ought to say something special over this."

  He led the way up the bare wooden stairs, followed by the harassed boy,and entered a small dirty room at the top, in the centre of which themaster of the Sarah Jane sat to deny visitors, in a pair of socks andlast week's paper.

  "Here's a young gent come to bring you some clothes, cap'n," said theman, taking the sack from the boy.

  "Why didn't you come before?" growled the captain, who was reading theadvertisements.

  The man put his hand in the sack, and pulled out the clothes. "What doyou think of 'em?" he asked expectantly.

  The captain strove vainly to tell him, but his tongue mercifully forsookits office, and dried between his lips. His brain rang with sentences ofscorching iniquity, but they got no further.

  "Well, say thank you, if you can't say nothing else," suggested histormentor hopefully.

  "I couldn't bring nothing else," said Tommy hurriedly; "all the thingswas locked up. I tried to swop 'em and nearly got locked up for it. Putthese on and hurry up."

  The captain moistened his lips with his tongue.

  "The mate'll get off directly she floats," continued Tommy. "Put theseon and spoil his little game. It's raining a little now. Nobody'll seeyou, and as soon as you git aboard you can borrow some of the men'sclothes."

  "That's the ticket, cap'n," said the man. "Lord lumme, you'll 'aveeverybody falling in love with you."

  "Hurry up," said Tommy, dancing with impatience. "Hurry up."

  The skipper, dazed and wild-eyed, stood still while his two assistantshastily dressed him, bickering somewhat about details as they did so.

  "He ought to be tight-laced, I tell you," said the man.

  "He can't be tight-laced without stays," said Tommy scornfully. "Youought to know that."

  "Ho, can't he," said the other, discomfited. "You know too much for ayoung-un. Well, put a bit o' line round 'im then."

  "We can't wait for a line," said Tommy, who was standing on tip-toe toti
e the skipper's bonnet on. "Now tie the scarf over his chin to hidehis beard, and put this veil on. It's a good job he ain't got amoustache."

  The other complied, and then fell back a pace or two to gaze at hishandiwork. "Strewth, though I sees it as shouldn't, you look a treat!"he remarked complacently. "Now, young-un, take 'old of his arm. Go upthe back streets, and if you see anybody looking at you, call 'im Mar."

  The two set off, after the man, who was a born realist, had tried tosnatch a kiss from the skipper on the threshold. Fortunately for thesuccess of the venture, it was pelting with rain, and, though a fewpeople gazed curiously at the couple as they went hastily along, theywere unmolested, and gained the wharf in safety, arriving just in timeto see the schooner shoving off from the side.

  At the sight the skipper held up his skirts and ran. "Ahoy!" he shouted."Wait a minute."

  The mate gave one look of blank astonishment at the extraordinaryfigure, and then turned away; but at that moment the stern came withinjumping distance of the wharf, and uncle and nephew, moved with oneimpulse leaped for it and gained the deck in safety.

  "Why didn't you wait when I hailed you?" demanded the skipper fiercely.

  "How was I to know it was you?" inquired the mate surlily, as herealised his defeat. "I thought it was the Empress of Rooshia."

  The skipper stared at him dumbly.

  "An' if you take my advice," said the mate, with a sneer, "you'll keepthem things on. I never see you look so well in anything afore."

  "I want to borrow some o' your clothes, Bob," said the skipper, eyeinghim steadily.

  "Where's your own?" asked the other.

  "I don't know," said the skipper. "I was took with a fit last night,Bob, and when I woke up this morning they were gone. Somebody must havetook advantage of my helpless state and taken 'em."

  "Very likely," said the mate, turning away to shout an order to thecrew, who were busy setting sail.

  "Where are they, old man?" inquired the skipper.

  "How should I know?" asked the other, becoming interested in the menagain.

  "I mean YOUR clothes," said the skipper, who was fast losing his temper.

  "Oh, mine?" said the mate. "Well, as a matter o' fact, I don't likelending my clothes. I'm rather pertickler. You might have a fit inTHEM."

  "You won't lend 'em to me?" asked the skipper.

  "I won't," said the mate, speaking loudly, and frowning significantly atthe crew, who were listening.

  "Very good," said the skipper. "Ted, come here. Where's your otherclothes?"

  "I'm very sorry, sir," said Ted, shifting uneasily from one leg to theother, and glancing at the mate for support; "but they ain't fit for thelikes of you to wear, sir." "I'm the best judge of that," said theskipper sharply. "Fetch 'em up."

  "Well, to tell the truth, sir," said Ted, "I'm like the mate. I'm only apoor sailor-man, but I wouldn't lend my clothes to the Queen ofEngland."

  "You fetch up them clothes," roared the skipper snatching off his bonnetand flinging it on the deck. "Fetch 'em up at once. D'ye think I'm goingabout in these petticuts?"

  "They're my clothes," muttered Ted doggedly.

  "Very well, then, I'll have Bill's," said the skipper. "But mind you, mylad, I'll make you pay for this afore I've done with you. Bill's theonly honest man aboard this ship. Gimme your hand, Bill, old man."

  "I'm with them two," said Bill gruffly, as he turned away.

  The skipper, biting his lips with fury, turned from one to the other,and then, with a big oath, walked forward. Before he could reach thefo'c'sle Bill and Ted dived down before him, and, by the time he haddescended, sat on their chests side by side confronting him. To threatsand appeals alike they turned a deaf ear, and the frantic skipper wascompelled at last to go on deck again, still encumbered with the hatedskirts.

  "Why don't you go an' lay down," said the mate, "an' I'll send you downa nice cup o' hot tea. You'll get histericks, if you go on like that."

  "I'll knock your 'ead off if you talk to me," said the skipper.

  "Not you," said the mate cheerfully; "you ain't big enough. Look at thatpore fellow over there."

  The skipper looked in the direction indicated, and, swelling withimpotent rage, shook his fist fiercely at a red-faced man with greywhiskers, who was wafting innumerable tender kisses from the bridge of apassing steamer.

  "That's right," said the mate approvingly; "don't give 'im noencouragement. Love at first sight ain't worth having."

  The skipper, suffering severely from suppressed emotion, went below, andthe crew, after waiting a little while to make sure that he was notcoming up again, made their way quietly to the mate.

  "If we can only take him to Battlesea in this rig it'll be all right,"said the latter. "You chaps stand by me. His slippers and sou'-wester isthe only clothes he's got aboard. Chuck every needle you can lay yourhands on overboard, or else he'll git trying to make a suit out of apiece of old sail or something. If we can only take him to Mr. Pearsonlike this, it won't be so bad after all."

  While these arrangements were in hand above, the skipper and the boywere busy over others below. Various startling schemes propounded by theskipper for obtaining possession of his men's attire were rejected bythe youth as unlawful, and, what was worse, impracticable. For a coupleof hours they discussed ways and means, but only ended in diatribesagainst the mean ways of the crew; and the skipper, whose head achedstill from his excesses, fell into a state of sullen despair at length,and sat silent.

  "By Jove, Tommy, I've got it," he cried suddenly, starting up andhitting the table with his fist. "Where's your other suit?"

  "That ain't no bigger that this one," said Tommy.

  "You git it out," said the skipper, with a knowing toss of his head."Ah, there we are. Now go in my state-room and take those off."

  The wondering Tommy, who thought that great grief had turned hiskinsman's brain, complied, and emerged shortly afterwards in a blanket,bringing his clothes under his arm.

  "Now, do you know what I'm going to do?" inquired the skipper, with abig smile.

  "No."

  "Fetch me the scissors, then. Now do you know what I'm going to do?"

  "Cut up the two suits and make 'em into one," hazarded thehorror-stricken Tommy. "Here, stop it! Leave off!"

  The skipper pushed him impatiently off, and, placing the clothes on thetable, took up the scissors, and, with a few slashing strokes, cut themgarments into their component parts.

  "What am I to wear," said Tommy, beginning to blubber. "You didn't thinkof that?"

  "What are you to wear, you selfish young pig?" said the skipper sternly."Always thinking about yourself. Go and git some needles and thread, andif there's any left over, and you're a good boy, I'll see whether Ican't make something for you out of the leavings."

  "There ain't no needles here," whined Tommy, after a lengthened search.

  "Go down the fo'c'sle and git the case of sail-makers' needles, then,"said the skipper, "Don't let anyone see what you're after, an' somethread."

  "Well, why couldn't you let me go in my clothes before you cut 'em up,"moaned Tommy. "I don't like going up in this blanket. They'll laugh atme."

  "You go at once!" thundered the skipper, and, turning his back on him,whistled softly, and began to arrange the pieces of cloth.

  "Laugh away, my lads," he said cheerfully, as an uproarious burst oflaughter greeted the appearance of Tommy on deck. "Wait a bit."

  He waited himself for nearly twenty minutes, at the end of which timeTommy, treading on his blanket, came flying down the companion-ladder,and rolled into the cabin.

  "There ain't a needle aboard the ship," he said solemnly, as he pickedhimself up and rubbed his head. "I've looked everywhere."

  "What?" roared the skipper, hastily concealing the pieces of cloth."Here, Ted! Ted!"

  "Ay, ay, sir!" said Ted, as he came below.

  "I want a sail-maker's needle," said the skipper glibly. "I've got arent in this skirt."

  "I broke the last one
yesterday," said Ted, with an evil grin.

  "Any other needle then," said the skipper, trying to conceal hisemotion.

  "I don't believe there's such a thing aboard the ship," said Ted, whohad obeyed the mate's thoughtful injunction. "NOR thread. I was onlysaying so to the mate yesterday."

  The skipper sank again to the lowest depths, waved him away, and then,getting on a corner of the locker, fell into a gloomy reverie.

  "It's a pity you do things in such a hurry," said Tommy, sniffingvindictively. "You might have made sure of the needle before you spoiledmy clothes. There's two of us going about ridiculous now."

  The master of the Sarah Jane allowed this insolence to pass unheeded. Itis in moments of deep distress that the mind of man, naturally revertingto solemn things, seeks to improve the occasion by a lecture. Theskipper, chastened by suffering and disappointment, stuck his right handin his pocket, after a lengthened search for it, and gently bidding theblanketed urchin in front of him to sit down, began:

  "You see what comes of drink and cards," he said mournfully. "Instead ofbeing at the helm of my ship, racing all the other craft down the river,I'm skulkin' down below here like--like"--

  "Like an actress," suggested Tommy.

  The skipper eyed him all over. Tommy, unconscious of offence, met hisgaze serenely.

  "If," continued the skipper, "at any time you felt like taking too much,and you stopped with the beer-mug half-way to your lips, and thought ofme sitting in this disgraceful state, what would you do?"

  "I dunno," replied Tommy, yawning.

  "What would you do?" persisted the skipper, with great expression.

  "Laugh, I s'pose," said Tommy, after a moment's thought.

  The sound of a well-boxed ear rang through the cabin.

  "You're an unnatural, ungrateful little toad," said the skipperfiercely. "You don't deserve to have a good, kind uncle to look afteryou."

  "Anybody can have him for me," sobbed the indignant Tommy, as hetenderly felt his ear. "You look a precious sight more like an aunt thanan uncle."

  After firing this shot he vanished in a cloud of blanket, and theskipper, reluctantly abandoning a hastily-formed resolve of firstflaying him alive and then flinging him overboard, sat down again andlit his pipe.

  Once out of the river he came on deck again, and, ignoring by a greateffort the smiles of the crew and the jibes of the mate, took command.The only alteration he made in his dress was to substitute hissou'-wester for the bonnet, and in this guise he did his work, while theaggrieved Tommy hopped it in blankets. The three days at sea passed likea horrid dream. So covetous was his gaze, that the crew instinctivelyclutched their nether garments and looked to the buttoning of theircoats as they passed him. He saw coats in the mainsail, and fashionedphantom trousers out of the flying jib, and towards the end began tobabble of blue serges and mixed tweeds. Oblivious of fame, he hadresolved to enter the harbour of Battlesea by night; but it was not tobe. Near home the wind dropped, and the sun was well up before Battleseacame into view, a grey bank on the starboard bow.

  Until within a mile of the harbour, the skipper held on, and then hisgrasp on the wheel relaxed somewhat, and he looked round anxiously forthe mate.

  "Where's Bob?" he shouted.

  "He's very ill, sir," said Ted, shaking his head.

  "Ill?" gasped the startled skipper. "Here, take the wheel a minute."

  He handed it over, and grasping his skirts went hastily below. The matewas half lying, half sitting, in his bunk, groaning dismally.

  "What's the matter?" inquired the skipper.

  "I'm dying," said the mate. "I keep being tied up all in knots inside. Ican't hold myself straight."

  The other cleared his throat. "You'd better take off your clothes andlie down a bit," he said kindly. "Let me help you off with them."

  "No--don't--trouble," panted the mate.

  "It ain't no trouble," said the skipper, in a trembling voice.

  "No, I'll keep 'em on," said the mate faintly. "I've always had an ideaI'd like to die in my clothes. It may be foolish, but I can't help it."

  "You'll have your wish some day, never fear, you infernal rascal,"shouted the overwrought skipper. "You're shamming sickness to make metake the ship into port."

  "Why shouldn't you take her in," asked the mate, with an air of innocentsurprise. "It's your duty as cap'n. You'd better get above now. The baris always shifting."

  The skipper, restraining himself by a mighty effort, went on deck again,and, taking the wheel, addressed the crew. He spoke feelingly of theobedience men owed their superior officers, and the moral obligationthey were under to lend them their trousers when they required them. Hedwelt on the awful punishments awarded for mutiny, and proved clearly,that to allow the master of a ship to enter port in petticoats wasmutiny of the worst type. He then sent them below for their clothing.They were gone such a long time that it was palpable to the meanestintellect that they did not intend to bring it. Meantime the harbourwidened out before him.

  There were two or three people on the quay as the Sarah Jane came withinhailing distance. By the time she had passed the lantern at the end ofit there were two or three dozen, and the numbers were steadilyincreasing at the rate of three persons for every five yards she made.Kind-hearted, humane men, anxious that their friends should not lose sogreat and cheap a treat, bribed small and reluctant boys with pennies togo in search of them, and by the time the schooner reached her berth, alarge proportion of the population of the port was looking over eachother's shoulders and shouting foolish and hilarious inquiries to theskipper. The news reached the owner, and he came hurrying down to theship, just as the skipper, regardless of the heated remonstrances of thesightseers, was preparing to go below.

  Mr. Pearson was a stout man, and he came down exploding with wrath. Thenhe saw the apparition, and mirth overcame him. It became necessary forthree stout fellows to act as buttresses, and the more indignant theskipper looked the harder their work became. Finally he was assisted, ina weak state, and laughing hysterically, to the deck of the schooner,where he followed the skipper below, and in a voice broken with emotiondemanded an explanation.

  "It's the finest sight I ever saw in my life, Bross," he said when theother had finished. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything. I've beenfeeling very low this last week, and it's done me good. Don't talknonsense about leaving the ship. I wouldn't lose you for anything afterthis, but if you like to ship a fresh mate and crew you can pleaseyourself. If you'll only come up to the house and let Mrs. Pearson seeyou--she's been ailing--I'll give you a couple of pounds. Now, get yourbonnet and come."

  THE BOATSWAIN'S WATCH