More Cargoes

“I s’pose I’ve got to do it,” he said slowly.

“Of course you have,” said Tweedie, rolling his cigar between his thin lips; “you’ve got orders to do so, haven’t you? We must all obey those above us. What would you do if one of your men refused to obey an order of yours?”

“Hit him in the face,” said Captain Fazackerly with simple directness.

“Just so,” said Tweedie, who was always ready to impart moral teaching. “And when your governor asks for a disbursement sheet you’ve got to give him one. Now, then, head that paper—Voyage of the Sarah Ann, 180 tons register, Garston Docks to Limerick.”

The captain squared his elbows, and, for a few seconds, nothing was heard but his stertorous breathing and the scratching of the pen; then a muttered execration, and Captain Fazackerly put down his pen with a woe-begone air.

“What’s the matter?” said Tweedie.

“I’ve spelt register without the ‘d.’” said the other; “that’s what comes o’ being worried.”

“It don’t matter,” said Tweedie hastily. “Now what about stores? Wait a bit though; of course ye repaired your side-lamps before starting?”

“Lor’, no!” said Captain Fazackerly, staring; “what for? They were all right.”

“Ye lie,” said Tweedie sternly, “you did! To repairs to side-lamps, ten shillings. Now then, did you paint her this trip?”

“I did,” said the other, looking at the last entry in a fascinated fashion.

“Let’s see,” said Tweedie meditatively—“we’ll say five gallons of black varnish at one shilling and threepence a gallon–”

“No, no,” said the scribe; “I used gas tar at threepence a gallon.”

“Five gallons black varnish, one shilling and threepence a gallon, six-and-threepence,” said Tweedie, raising his voice a little; “have you got that down?”

After a prolonged struggle with his feelings the other said he had.

“Twenty-eight pounds black paint at twopence a pound,” continued Tweedie.

“Nay, nay,” said the skipper; “I allus saves the soot out of the galley for that.”

The other captain took his cigar from his lips and gazed severely at his guest.

“Am I dealing with a chimney-sweep or a ship’s captain?” he inquired plaintively; “it would simplify matters a bit if I knew.”

“Go on, Captain Tweedie,” said the other, turning a fine purple colour; “how much did you say it was?”

“Twenty-eight twos equals fifty-six; that’s four-and-ninepence,” continued Tweedie, his face relaxing to receive the cigar again; “and twenty-eight pounds white lead at twenty-eight shillings a hundredweight–”

“Three penn’orth o’ whiting’s good enough for me, matey,” said Captain Fazackerly, making a stand.

“See here,” said Tweedie, “who’s making out this disbursement sheet, you or me?”

“You are,” said the other.

“Very good then,” said his friend; “now don’t you interrupt. I don’t mind telling you, you must never use rubbish o’ that sort in a disbursement sheet. It looks bad for the firm. If any other owners saw that in your old man’s sheet he’d never hear the end of it, and he’d never forgive you. That’ll be—what did I say? Seven shillings. And now we come to the voyage. Ye had a tug to give ye a pluck out to the bar.”

“No; we went out with a fair wind,” said Captain Fazackerly, toying with his pen.

“Ye lie; ye had a tug out to the bar,” repeated Tweedie wearily. “Did ye share the towing?”

“Why, no, I tell’e–”

“That’ll be three pounds then,” said Tweedie.

“If ye’d shared it it would have been two pound ten. You should always study your owner in these matters, cap’n. Now, what about bad weather? Any repairs to the sails?”

“Ay, we had a lot o’ damage,” said Fazackerly, laying down his pen; “it took us days to repair ‘em. Cost us four pounds. We had to put into Holyhead for shelter.”

“Four pounds,” said Tweedie, his voice rising almost to a scream.

“Ay, all that,” said Fazackerly very solemnly.

“Look here,” said Tweedie in a choked voice. “Blown away fore lower topsail, forestaysail, and carried away lifts to staysail. To sailmaker for above, eleven pounds eighteen shillings and ten-pence. Then ye say ye put into Holyhead for shelter. Well, here in entering harbor we’ll say loss of port anchor and thirty fathoms of chain cable–”

“Man alive,” said the overwrought skipper, hitting the table heavily with his fist, “the old anchor’s there for him to see.”

“To divers recovering same, and placing on deck, two pound ten,” continued Tweedie, raising his voice. “Did you do any damage going into dock at Limerick?”

“More than we’ve done for years,” said Fazackerly, and shaking his head, entered into voluminous details; “total, seven pounds.”

“Seven pounds,” said the exasperated Tweedie. “Seven pounds for all that, and your insurance don’t begin till twenty-five pounds. Why, damme, you ain’t fit to be trusted out with a ship. I firmly b’lieve if you lost her you’d send in a bill for a suit of clothes, and call it square. Now take this down, and larn a business way o’ doing things. In entering dock, carried away starboard cathead and started starboard chain plates; held survey of damage done: decided to take off channel bends, renew through bolts, straighten plates and replace same; also to renew cathead and caulk ship’s side in wake of plate, six seams, etc., etc. There, now, that looks better. Twenty-seven pounds eighteen and sevenpence halfpenny, and I think, for all that damage, it’s a very reasonable bill. Can you remember anything else?”

“You’ve got a better memory than I have,” said his admiring friend. “Wait a bit though; yes, I had my poor old dog washed overboard.”

“Dog!” said the deep-sea man; “we can’t put dogs in a disbursement sheet. ‘Tain’t business.”

“My old master would have given me another one, though,” grumbled Fazackerly. “I wouldn’t ha’ parted with that dog for anything. He knew as much as you or me, that dog did. I never knew him to bite an officer, but I don’t think there was ever a man came on the ship but what he’d have a bit out of, sooner or later.”

“Them sort of dogs do get washed overboard,” said Tweedie impatiently.

“Boys he couldn’t abear,” pursued the other, in tones of tender reminiscence; “the mere sight of a boarding-school of ‘em out for a walk would give him hydrophoby almost.”

“Just so,” said Tweedie. “Ah! there’s cork fenders; ye may pick them up floating down the river, or they may come aboard in the night from a craft alongside; they’re changeable sort o’ things, but in the disbursement sheet they must go, and best quality too, four-and-sixpence each. Any thing else?”

“There’s the dog,” said Fazackerly persistently.

“Copper nails, tenpence,” said Tweedie the dictator.

“Haven’t bought any for months,” said the other, but slowly entering it.

“Well, it ain’t exactly right,” said Tweedie, shrugging his shoulders, “but you’re so set on him going in.”

“Him? Who?” asked Captain Fazackerly, staring.

“The dog,” said Tweedie; “if he goes in as copper nails, he won’t be noticed.”