The Brassbounder: A Tale of the Sea

  III

  THE WAY OF THE HALF-DECK

  The guttering lamp gave little light in the half-deck; its trimming hadbeen neglected on this day of storm, so we sat in semi-gloom listeningto the thunder of seas outside. On the grimy deal table lay theremains of our supper--crumbs of broken sea-biscuits, a scrap of greasysalt horse, dirty plates and pannikins, a fork stabbed into the deal tohold the lot from rolling, and an overturned hook-pot that rattled fromside to side at each lurch of the ship, the dregs of the tea it hadheld dripping to the weltering floor. For once in a way we weremiserably silent. We sat dourly together, as cheerless a quartette asever passed watch below. "Who wouldn't sell his farm and go to sea?"asked Hansen, throwing off his damp jacket and boots and turning intohis bunk. "'A life on th' ocean wave,' eh? Egad! here's one whowishes he had learned to drive a wagon!"

  "And another," said Eccles. "That--or selling matches on th' highway!... Come on, Kid! Get a move on ye and clear away! ... And mind yejamm the gear off in the locker. No more o' these tricks like ye didin Channel--emptyin' half the bloomin' whack into th' scupper! Youjamm the gear off proper, or I'll lick ye!"

  Young Munro, the 'peggy' of our watch, swallowed hard and set about hisbidding. His small features were pinched and drawn, and a ghastlypallor showed that a second attack of sea-sickness was not far off. Hestaggered over to the table and made a half-hearted attempt to put thegear away,

  "What's th' matter with ye?" said Eccles roughly. "Ye've been longenough away from ye'r mammy t' be able t' keep ye'r feet. A fortnightat sea, an' still comin' th' 'Gentle Annie'! You look sharp now, an'don't----"

  "Eccles!"

  "Eh?"

  "You let the Kid alone," said Hansen in a dreamy, half-sleepy tone."You let the Kid alone, or I'll twist your damn neck! Time enough foryou to start chinnin' when your elders are out o' sight. You shut up!"

  "Oh, all right! Ye needn't get ratty. If you want t' pamper thebloomin' Kid, it's none of my business, I s'pose.... All the same, youtook jolly good care I did _my_ 'peggy' last voyage! There was nopamperin' that I remember!"

  "Different!" said Hansen, still in the same sleepy tone. "Different!You were always big enough an' ugly enough t' stand the racket. Youleave the Kid alone!"

  Eccles turned away to his bunk and, seeking his pipe, struck matchafter match in a vain attempt to light the damp tobacco. Now and thenthe ship would falter in her swing--an ominous moment of silence andsteadiness--before the shock of a big sea sent her reeling again. Thecrazy old half-deck rocked and groaned at the battery as the sea ranaft, and a spurt of green water came from under the covering board.Some of the sea-chests worked out of the lashings and rattled down toleeward. Eccles and I triced them up, then stowed the supper gear inthe locker.

  "A few more big 'uns like that," said I, "and this rotten old house 'llgo a-voyagin'! ... Wonder it has stood so long."

  "Do ye think there's danger?" asked the Kid, in a falter, and turningterrified eyes on one after another.

  "Course," said Hansen--we had thought him asleep--"course there is!That's what ye came here for, isn't it? This is when th' hero standson th' weather taffrail, graspin' th' tautened backst'y an' hurlin'defiance at th' mighty elements--'Nick Carter,' chap. one!"

  Eccles and I grinned. Munro took heart.

  "Danger," still the drowsy tone, "I should think there is! Why, anyone o' these seas might sweep the harness-cask and t'morrow's dinneroverboard! Any one of 'em might----"

  The door swung to with a crash, a blast of chill wind and rain blew inon us, the lamp flickered and flared, a dripping oilskin-clad figureclambered over the washboard.

  "Door! door!" we yelled as he fumbled awkwardly with the handle.

  "Oh, shut up! Ye'd think it was the swing-door of a pub. t' hear yeshouting!" He pulled heavily, and the broken-hinged baulk slammed intoplace. It was Jones, of the other watch, come in to turn us out.

  "Well, I'm hanged!" He looked around the house--at the litter on thefloor, at the spurting water that lashed across with the lurch of her."Why don't some of ye bale the place out 'stead of standing by t' shout'Door, door!' when there's no need? Damn! Look at that!" She lurchedagain. A foot or more of broken water dashed from side to side,carrying odds of loose gear with it. "Egad! The port watch for lazysojers--every time! Why don't ye turn to an' dry the half-deck out?Oh no; not your way! It's 'Damn you, Jack--I'm all right!' with youchaps. Goin' on deck again soon, eh? Why should ye dry up for theother watch, eh? ... Oh! all right. Just you----"

  "Oh, dry up yourself, Jones!" Hansen sat up in his bunk and turned hislegs out. "What you making all the noise about? We've been balin' andbalin', and it's no use! No use at all ... with that covering boardworking loose and the planks opening out at every roll.... What's up,anyway? ... All hands, eh?"

  "Yes. 'All hands wear ship' at eight bells! We've just set the forelower tops'l. Think we must be getting near the Western Islands by theway th' Old Man's poppin' up and down. It's pipin' outside! Blowin'harder than ever, and that last big sea stove in the weather side ofthe galley. The watch are at it now, planking up and that.... Well,I'm off! Ye've quarter an hour t' get your gear on. Lively, now! ..."At the door he turned, eyeing the floor, now awash. "Look here, young'un"--to poor, woebegone Munro--"the Mate says you're not to come ondeck. You stay here and bale up, an' if the damn place isn't dry whenwe come below I'll hide the life out o' ye! ... Oh, it's no usescrewin' your face up. 'Cry baby' business is no good aboard a packet!You buck up an' bale the house ... or ... look out!" He heaved at thedoor, sprawled over, and floundered out into the black night.

  Munro turned a white, despairing face on us elders. We had no supportfor him. Hansen was fumbling with his belt. I was drawing on my longboots. Both of us seemed not to have heard. This was the way of thehalf-deck. With Eccles it had been different. He was only a secondvoyager, a dog-watch at sea--almost a 'greenhorn.' There was timeenough for him to 'chew the rag' when he had got the length of keepinga regular 'wheel and look out.' Besides, it was a 'breach' for him tostart bossing about when there were two of his elders in the house. Wecould fix him all right!

  Ah! But Jones! ... It was not that we were afraid of him. Either ofus would have plugged him one at the word 'Go!' if it had been astraight affair between us. But this was no business of ours. Joneswas almost a man. In a month or two his time would be out. Therecould be no interference, not a word could be said; it was--the way ofthe half-deck.

  Swaying, sailor-like, on the reeling deck, we drew on our oilskins andsea-boots, buckled our belts, tied down the flaps of our sou'westers,and made ready. While we were at it Munro started on his task. Hefilled the big bucket, dragged it half-way to the door, then sat downheavily with a low cry of dismay.

  "What's the matter, Kid, eh?" said Hansen kindly. "Got the blues, eh?Buck up, man! Blue's a rotten colour aboard ship! Here, hand me thebucket!"

  He gripped the handle, stood listening for a chance, then swung thedoor out an inch or two, and tipped the bucket.

  "It ... it's ... not ... that," said the youngster. "It's ...s-s-staying in here w-when you fellows are on d-deck! ... Ye ...s-said th' house m-might go ... any time! ... Let me come!..."

  "No, no! Th' Mate said you weren't t' come on deck! You stay here!You'd only be in th' way! You'll be all right here; the rotten old box'll stand a few gales yet! ... What's that?"

  Above the shrilling of the gale we heard the Mate's bull roar: "All ...hands ... wear ... ship!"

  We took our chance, swung the door to, and dashed out. Dismayed for amoment--the sudden change from light to utter darkness--we brought up,grasping the life-lines in the waist, and swaying to meet the wildlurches of the ship. As our eyes sobered to the murk we saw the liftof the huge seas that thundered down the wind. No glint of moon orstar broke through the mass of driving cloud that blackened the sky towindward; only when the gleam of a breaking crest spread out could wemark the depth to which we dro
ve, or the height when we topped a wallof foaming water. The old barque was labouring heavily, reeling to it,the decks awash to our knees. Only the lower tops'ls and a stays'lwere set; small canvas, but spread enough to keep her head at the rightangle as wave after wave swept under or all but over her. "Stations!"we heard the Mate calling from his post at the lee fore braces. "Layalong here! Port watch, forrard!"

  We floundered through the swirl of water that brimmed the decks andtook our places. Aft, we could see the other watch standing by at themain. Good! It would be a quick job, soon over! The Old Man was atthe weather gangway, conning the ship and waiting for a chance. Belowhim, all hands stood at his orders--twenty-three lives were in hiskeeping at the moment; but there was no thought of that--we knew ourOld Jock, we boasted of his sea cunning. At length the chance came; apatch of lesser violence after a big sea had been met and surmounted.The sure, steady eye marked the next heavy roller. There was time anddistance! ... "Helm up, there!" (Old Jock for a voice!)

  Now her head paid off, and the order was given, 'Square mainyards!'Someone wailed a hauling cry and the great yards swung round, tops'llifting to the quartering wind. As the wind drew aft she gatheredweight and scudded before the gale. Seas raced up and crashed theirbulk at us when, at the word, we strained together to drag theforeyards from the backstays. Now she rolled the rails under--green,solid seas to each staggering lift. At times it seemed as if we wereall swept overboard there was no hold to the feet! We stamped andfloundered to find a solid place to brace our feet and knees against;trailed out on the ropes--all afloat--when she scooped the ocean up,yet stood and hauled when the chance was ours. A back roll would come."Hold all! ... Stand to it, sons! ..." With a jerk that seemed totear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. Therewas no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." Then, to usagain: "Hay ... o ... Ho.... Hay ... o! ... Round 'em in, boys! ..."Quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran inthe slack.

  "Vast haulin' foreyards! Turn all and lay aft!" We belayed the ropes,and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. Thesea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail withgreat fury. Twice the Second Mate, who was 'tending the weatherbraces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "Haulawaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post."Haul, you!"

  We dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again westood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to.

  "All hands off the deck!" roared the Mate when the headyards weresteadied. "Lay aft, all hands!"

  Drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in ourscramble for safe quarters--some to the poop, some to the main rigging.We knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that.

  "All ready, Sir," said the Mate when he came aft to report. "All handsare off the deck!"

  "Aye, aye!" Old Jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly fora chance to put his helm down. There was a perceptible lull in thewind, but the sea was high as ever. The heavy, racing clouds hadbroken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through whichshone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for amoment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over.

  It seemed a long time before the Old Man saw the 'smooth' he waswaiting for. A succession of big seas raced up, broke, and pouredaboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to thetrough. Now--the chance! "Ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "Standby, all!" Her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way waswell timed.

  Suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone onthe wet decks. The half-deck door was swung out--a figure blocked thelight, sprawling over the washboard--Munro! "Back!" we yelled. "Goback!"

  There was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ranforward, then aft, bewildered.

  The ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. Already her head wasdriving down before the coming of the wave that was to check her way.In a moment it would be over us. The Mate leapt to the ladder, but, ashe balanced, we saw one of the men in the main rigging slide down abackstay, drop heavily on deck, recover, and dash on towards the boy.

  Broad on the beam of her, the sea tore at us and brimmed the decks--awhite-lashing fury of a sea, that swept fore and aft, then frothed in awhelming torrent to leeward.

  When we got forward through the wash of it, we found Jones crouchingunder the weather rail. One arm was jammed round the bulwarkstanchion, the wrist stiffened and torn by the wrench, the other heldthe Kid--a limp, unconscious figure.

  "Carry him aft," said Jones. "I think ... he's ... all right ... onlyhalf drowned!" He swayed as he spoke, holding his hand to his head,gasping, and spitting out. "D-damn young swine! What ... he ...w-want t' come on deck f-for? T-told ... him t' ... s-stay below!"