CHAPTER 12
The time had come when Chris could go out beyond the confines of Mr.Wicker's gardens. It was a bright fall day when Amos and he steppedout the kitchen door. Becky Boozer's huge frame blocked it behind themas she stood in the sun to see them off. Each boy had been given meatand bread, some cakes and apples, for their midday meal, and Chrisstood looking up and down the street for a moment before starting,savoring the promise of new sights and new adventure. The onlydrawback was that Amos would not, and must not, know why Chris mightbe surprised at certain places. Georgetown in the year 1790 might benew for Amos, but not nearly as new as it would be for Chris.
"Where-all are we going in the first place?" Amos asked.
Chris had long ago decided. "We'll take a look at the _Mirabelle_," hesaid.
While looking about him, Chris glanced more than once at Amos. Thecolored boy's brilliant foreign costume was very noticeable, hisfriend thought, but when no one paid any attention, Chris decidedAmos's clothes were not unfamiliar to the seafaring men among whomthey were walking.
A ship had just come in, the sailors browned and cheerful at beingonce more in their home port. Merchants in coats of fine but sobercloth were talking with the captain and mate, while they kept an eyeon the cargo being laboriously unloaded by stevedores.
For some time Chris and Amos stood watching the men carrying out balesor kegs on their shoulders. When one part of the cargo had beenassembled on the dock, an auction was held forthwith to sell it off atonce to the highest bidder.
Listening and looking, Chris saw bolts of silk, hardware, china, winesand liquors, needles and pins--all manner of things auctioned andsold. The ship, American-owned, had come from England, and Chrisoverheard one man say to another: "See there, the thin man. That beMr. Mason's agent. I heard he's here to buy the ballast bricks for hismaster's plantation on the island."
Chris, not understanding, asked, "Ballast bricks? Please sir, what'sthat?"
The men, astounded to be interrupted by a boy, and looking down to seetwo, each with an apple in his hands, turned around, and after amoment's scrutiny, answered.
"Ballast bricks? Why, anyone knows that these are the bricks broughtover in the hold, my lad, should there not be sufficient cargo, bothto make ballast for the vessel and to sell once here. English bricksare cheaper than those we can make ourselves. Did you not know, youngman," he said, frowning with disapproval, "that our bricks forbuilding houses have all come from British kilns?"
"No sir, thank you sir," Chris said, and moved away, not in the leastabashed.
How I should have loved to have told him I didn't belong in this ageanyway, and that in _my_ time, we _do_ make our own bricks! hechuckled to himself.
Further on, a ship being painted a dazzling white caught their eyes.
"The _Mirabelle_!" Chris cried, running forward, and sure enough,black and gold letters along her bow pronounced that indeed it was the_Mirabelle_.
"I'd know those lines anywhere!" Chris said to Amos, and the two boysstood gazing at Mr. Wicker's ship.
The _Mirabelle_ was a three-masted schooner of more than usually trimlines. Even at the dockside, the curve of her bow gave an instantvision of how the waves would curl back as she drove forward over thesea. At the waterline, a clear light green contrasted well with thewhite of her sides. Above decks, the size of the masts and neatlyfurled sails showed at a glance that the _Mirabelle_ was hardy enoughto weather many a storm, and also that her crew were able and welltrained.
Looking about, Chris soon spied Ned Cilley, on deck lounging againstthe side of the ship and smoking his pipe. Master Cilley's eyes lit upas he saw his friends, and hurrying down the gangplank, shook them bythe hand as warmly as if he had not seen them for a month, instead ofjust the night before when he had shared with them what Becky termed,"a taste, a mere spoonful" of supper.
"Eh well, lookee here!" he exclaimed, delighted. "Chris and Amos, byme soul!" Ned Cilley beamed on them and leaned back on his heels for abetter view. "Lookin' about, lads? Eh, that's the way. Is she not thefinest ship that ever ye did rest your eyes on?"
The boys were agreeing enthusiastically when a remarkable couple cameinto sight, pacing the decks of the _Mirabelle_. Soon the watcherswere given a better look, for the two men came down the gangplank toexamine cases that had been brought to the dock for loading, and Chrisand Amos were hard put to it not to laugh out loud at the comicalpair.
The first man was so round and so short he appeared to have no legs atall. Below a tight round paunch, two small feet looking rather likemice, went in and out as he walked. The roundness of his face wasunderlined by three folds of chin, but his small piercing blue eyeshad a way of suddenly opening wide that made Chris feel the man was nofool. He constantly burbled with laughter and was in a high goodhumor, occasional remarks from his companion causing him now and againto chuckle with amusement.
What the other man could be saying that was so entertaining Chriscould not imagine, for he was the opposite of the fat good-humoredone.
This second person was twice again as tall as the plump little fellowbeside him, and was as dour and thin as the other was cheery and fat.He seemed in a state of perpetual depression, and no amount ofchuckles on the part of the plump gentleman could cause even a passingsmile over the long sad face of the dour man.
"Who in the world are they?" Chris asked of Cilley as they drew near.Cilley looked scandalized at Chris's impertinence in finding them inany way droll.
"Them? Why, bless me cap and buttons! That-there's the captain of the_Mirabelle_ no less, and his first mate. Captain Ezekial Blizzard, heis, and Mr. Elisha Finney," Ned Cilley told them, watching the earnestconversation of the pair with evident affection.
"Blizzard and Finney, that's them," he said. "And a better captain andfirst mate is not come by in the whole land, I shall warrant you. Hemay look too plump for his own good," Master Cilley went on, loweringhis voice and bending down to be on a level with Chris and Amos, "butbelieve me, there's no sounder captain afloat. They all know ithereabouts, for Ezekial Blizzard knows the Chiny Seas better than thesight of his own feet, make no mistake about it. As to Elisha Finney,he's glum, I don't deny, but faithful! That's true of the two ofthem--whatever they can do for Mr. Wicker is law for Ezekial Blizzardand Elisha Finney. They swear by Mr. Wicker, so they do," Ned said,wagging his head with the certainty of it. "Mr. Finney's kind, too,"Ned went on, "though he don't look it, bless me cap and boots! He'stenderhearted as a bird, under that gloom, is Finney."
"Could we go on board the ship?" Chris asked, when the Captain and Mr.Finney had moved off to the far end of the wharf.
"No, me lad," Cilley answered gravely. "'Tis better not. Wait till themaster do present you proper to the Captain, for the _Mirabelle_ isCaptain Blizzard's castle, like. I would sooner ye were asked aboardby him."
Then, seeing Chris's crestfallen face, Cilley clapped him so heartilyon the back that the boy staggered forward a pace or two.
"Come now! Cheer up!" Ned cried. "Come meet some of the crew!" heinvited, and taking Chris and Amos's arms, drew them towards a groupof seamen.
Chris looked quickly around at the faces of the men, for these, hesecretly knew, were to be his companions on a long sea journey soon tostart. With a deep sense of relief he found that he liked them all.All, perhaps, but one. Then he gave his attention to Ned Cilley, whowith a flourish was making the introductions.
"Me lads!" he cried, "Here are two likely young 'uns, living at thehouse of Mr. Wicker. Ye've heard me speak of them. Amos, here, on meright, and Chris, that's on me other side." He beamed at both and onthe men confronting him. "Now boys," he roared, "this good man here isBowie."
A short, muscular, bowlegged man with a friendly grin, nodded hishead at them and cut off a piece of black tobacco with his knife,stuffing it into his mouth, knife blade and all. Chris gave a shiveras the blade went in and came out and Bowie champed contentedly on hischew.
"This here's Elbert Jones," Cilley went on, "and that one's Abne
rCloud, and that one," pointed Ned, "that one's Zachary Heigh."
Chris smiled and nodded, or shook hands, and Amos followed suit, butwhen they had reached Zachary, a tall young man of eighteen years orso, Zachary bent his handsome surly face and fumbled at his shoe.Chris stood there with his hand out, feeling the red blood surgingangrily up his cheeks, and then he wondered who Zachary was looking atfrom the corner of his eye.
Chris turned his head and did not have to hear the name muttered byCilley or by Bowie at his back. Chris found himself staring atClaggett Chew.