Many Cargoes

“Ah! that’s just what we can’t do,” said Dick in high-pitched tones, which the skipper rightly concluded to be his preaching voice. “We can’t do it—an’ why can’t we do it? Becos we feel good, an’ we want you to feel good too. We want to share it with you. Oh, dear friend—”

“That’s enough,” said the master of the Elizabeth Ann, sharply. “Don’t you go ‘dear friending’ me. Go for’ard! Go for’ard at once!”

With a melancholy shake of his head the old man complied, and the startled skipper turned to the mate, who was at the wheel, and expressed his firm intention of at once stopping such behaviour on his ship.

“You can’t do it,” said the mate firmly.

“Can’t do it?” queried the skipper.

“Not a bit of it,” said the other. “They’ve all got it bad, an’ the more you get at ‘em the wuss they’ll be. Mark my words, best let ‘em alone.”

“I’ll hold my hand a bit and watch ‘em,” was the reply; “but I’ve always been cap’n on my own ship, and I always will.”

For the next twenty-four hours he retained his sovereignty undisputed, but on Sunday morning, after breakfast, when he was at the wheel, and the crew below, the mate, who had been forward, came aft with a strange grin struggling for development at the corners of his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” inquired the skipper, regarding him with some disfavour.

“They’re all down below with their red jerseys on,” replied the mate, still struggling, “and they’re holding a sort o’ consultation about the lost lamb, an’ the best way o’ reaching ‘is ‘ard ‘eart.”

“Lost lamb!” repeated the skipper unconcernedly, but carefully avoiding the other’s eye.

“You’re the lost lamb,” said the mate, who always went straight to the point.

“I won’t have it,” said the skipper excitably. “How dare they go on in this way? Go and send ‘em up directly.”

The mate, whistling cheerily, complied, and the four men, neatly attired in scarlet, came on deck.

“Now, what’s all this nonsense about?” demanded the incensed man. “What do you want?”

“We want your pore sinful soul,” said Dick with ecstasy.

“Ay, an’ we’ll have it,” said Joe, with deep conviction.

“So we will,” said the other two, closing their eyes and smiling rapturously; “so we will.”

The skipper, alarmed, despite himself, at their confidence, turned a startled face to the mate.

“If you could see it now,” continued Dick impressively, “you’d be frightened at it. If you could—”

“Get to your own end of the ship,” spluttered the indignant skipper. “Get, before I kick you there!”

“Better let Sam have a try,” said one of the other men, calmly ignoring the fury of the master; “his efforts have been wonderfully blessed. Come here, Sam.”

“There’s a time for everything” said Sam cautiously. “Let’s go for’ard and do what we can for him among ourselves.”

They moved off reluctantly, Dick throwing such affectionate glances at the skipper over his shoulders that he nearly choked with rage.

“I won’t have it!” he said fiercely; “I’ll knock it out of ‘em.”

“You can’t,” said the mate. “You can’t knock sailor men about nowadays. The only thing you can do is to get rid of ‘em.”

“I don’t want to do that,” was the growling reply. “They’ve been with me a long time, and they’re all good men. Why don’t they have a go at you, I wonder?”

“ME?” said the mate, in indignant surprise. “Why, I’m a Seventh Day Baptist! They don’t want to waste their time over me. I’m all right.”

“You’re a pretty Seventh Day Baptist, you are!” replied the skipper. “Fust I’ve heard of it.”

“You don’t understand about such things,” said the mate.

“It must be a very easy religion,” continued the skipper.

“I don’t make a show of it, if that’s what you mean,” rejoined the other warmly. “I’m one o’ them as believe in ‘iding my light under a bushel.”

“A pint pot’ud do easy,” sneered the skipper. “It’s more in your line, too.”

“Anyway, the men reckernise it,” said the mate loftily. “They don’t go an’ sit in their red jerseys an’ hold mothers’ meetings over me.”

“I’ll knock their blessed heads off!” growled the skipper. “I’ll learn ‘em to insult me!”

“It’s all for your own good,” said the other. “They mean it kindly. Well, I wish ‘em luck.”

With these hardy words he retired, leaving a seething volcano to pace the deck, and think over ways and means of once more reducing his crew to what he considered a fit and proper state of obedience and respect.

The climax was reached at tea-time, when an anonymous hand was thrust beneath the skylight, and a full-bodied tract fluttered wildly down and upset his tea.

“That’s the last straw!” he roared, fishing out the tract and throwing it on the floor. “I’ll read them chaps a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry, and put a little money in my pocket at the same time. I’ve got a little plan in my ‘ed as come to me quite sudden this afternoon. Come on deck, Bob.”

Bob obeyed, grinning, and the skipper, taking the wheel from Sam, sent him for the others.

“Did you ever know me break my word, Dick?” he inquired abruptly, as they shuffled up.

“Never,” said Dick.

“Cap’n Bowers’ word is better than another man’s oath,” asseverated Joe.

“Well,” said Captain Bowers, with a wink at the mate, “I’m going to give you chaps a little self-denial week all to yourselves. If you all live on biscuit and water till we get to port, and don’t touch nothing else, I’ll jine you and become a Salvationist.”

“Biscuit and water,” said Dick doubtfully, scratching a beard strong enough to scratch back.

“It wouldn’t be right to play with our constitooshuns in that way, sir,” objected Joe, shaking his head.

“There you are,” said Bowers, turning to the mate with a wave of his hand. “They’re precious anxious about me so long as it’s confined to jawing, and dropping tracts into my tea, but when it comes to a little hardship on their part, see how they back out of it.”

“We ain’t backing out of it,” said Dick cautiously; “but s’pose we do, how are we to be certain as you’ll jine us?”

“You ‘ve got my word for it,” said the other, “an’ the mate an’ cook witness it.”

“O’ course, you jine the Army for good, sir,” said Dick, still doubtfully.