The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

  “Listen, you bein’ new ‘n all, I figure maybe we should tell you about Barkley,” Stumpy said.

  “Barkley?” Cade asked. “The second mate?”

  “Yeah, do you know ‘im?”

  “No, but I seem to recall hearing his name mentioned by some sailors that were in the bar, and I gathered they weren’t particularly fond of him.”

  “Hell, his own mama couldn’t be fond o’ the son of a bitch,” Stumpy said. “Anyhow, like I was sayin’, you need to watch out for ‘im. If he says shit, you don’t ask how much, you just squat ‘n do it. He loves to use a rope’s end to make a point, but that’s when he’s goin’ easy on you. What the son of bitch really likes to do is tie you to the mast so Higgins, the bo’sun can give you a real beatin’.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, what is this place we’re in now?” He took in the area with a wave of his hand. “What do you call this part of the ship?”

  “This is the fo’c’sle,” Stumpy said. “This is the crew’s quarters.”

  “Foc’s’le,” Cade repeated. He ran his hand across the canvas that was his bunk, then hopped down and began looking around.

  “What are you lookin’ for?” Pops asked.

  “When I was brought here, you didn’t happen to see a brown leather satchel with me, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t see one,” Pops said.

  “They didn’t none of you have nothin’ with you,” Stumpy said.

  “Why you worryin’ ‘bout the satchel? Was they somethin’ important in it?” Pops asked.

  Cade started to tell them about the money, then decided not to. When he stopped to consider it, it wasn’t really his money in the first place. And before he lost it, he was able to get a bank draft sent back to his brother, to save the farm, and that was the most important thing.

  “No, the only thing I had in it was a change of clothes.”

  “Well then, that ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout, ‘cause them clothes wouldn’t ‘a done you no good no how,” Pops said. “You’ll have to wear sailin’ duds long as you’re on the ship.”

  “Where do I get those?”

  “Cap’n Mumford keeps a slop chest,” Pops explained. “You can outfit yourself from that, ‘n pay ‘im from your wages, once you collect.”

  “On deck!” someone shouted from the head of the companion ladder. “All hands on deck for the cap’n’s words, and the pickin’ o’ the watch.”

  “You feel well enough to climb the ladder?” Pops asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “I’ll climb up behind you to catch you in case you fall.”

  When they reached the deck Cade saw the open water of the Gulf itself.

  “There goes the tug back to New Orleans,” Stumpy said, pointing to a short, blunt-looking screw-propelled boat that was beating its way back. Looking in the direction the tug was going, Cade could see the land, and the wide mouth of the Mississippi, where it flowed into the Gulf. For just a moment he almost shouted out that he should be on that boat, that he had no business being on board the Fremad. He even gave a passing thought to leaping overboard and trying to swim to it, but he knew that would be a foolish, and most likely, fatal gesture.

  “Lay aft to the poop and stand respectful for the cap’n’s words,” a large man said. He was carrying a short piece of rope.

  “That’s Carl Barkley, our second mate,” Pops said.

  “Wait, wait! Signal that boat!” someone shouted. “Stop it immediately! I’m not supposed to be on this ship! I was kidnapped!” This was the third man who had been brought aboard with Cade and Hernandez.

  “Quiet your bellowin’, you whiney bastard!” Barkley said, and he augmented his commands with the generous use of the rope’s end. “Now lay aft like I told you! All of you, lay aft, now!”

  Barkley lashed out at a couple other sailors, whose only infraction was to be close enough for him to get to them.

  11

  CADE FOLLOWED POPS, Stumpy, Hernandez and the others aft, to the poop deck. Even though Hernandez, like Cade, had been shanghaied, he was an experienced seaman and had already accommodated himself to the situation, blending in with the rest of the crew as if he had been a willing recruit.

  “You were kidnapped just as I was, weren’t you?” the third of the three shanghaied said to Cade. He was young, Cade supposed in his late teens. He was blond, with blue eyes, and an innocent face, which suggested that he had experienced very little stress in his life before now. He was wearing black pants with a white, ruffled shirt.

  “Yes, I was shanghaied,” Cade replied.

  “Why didn’t you speak out when that villainous man beat me with the rope?”

  “What good would it have done for me to have said anything? He wouldn’t have stopped beating you, and I would have been next.”

  “I heard you tell the others that your name is Copley. My name Tait, Willoughby Tait. I think we should stick together. The three of us were illegally taken, and brought out here for a period of involuntary servitude. If we would unite in our petition to the proper authorities, I’m sure we would prevail.”

  “And just who do you think would be the proper authorities?” Cade asked.

  “Why, those in charge of this ship, of course. I think that you, Mr. Hernandez, and I, should make a vehement protest. Now would be our opportunity, since the captain is about to make his appearance.”

  “Tait, you talk just real pretty, usin’ them big words ‘n all. But if you don’t keep your mouth shut, you’ll be getting’ a lot more than a rope’s end laid across your back,” Pops warned. “Ye’d best be hushin’ up now.”

  “Who are you to tell me . . .” Tait started to say, but Cade interrupted him.

  “I’d listen to him if I were you. You said we should stick together? Seems to me like our best bet is to learn from those who know what they’re doing.”

  A man, wearing a blue jacket with brass buttons, walked out on the poop overhang. Cade didn’t have to be told that this was Captain Mumford. It was obvious, not only by his mode of dress, but by his bearing, which was that of a man comfortable with command. There were two men standing with the captain, one on either side. The man to his left was Carl Barkley. The other, Pops identified as Emerson Drake, the first mate. “Folks say that Francis Drake was a great, great grandpa or something like that, only I don’t know whether or not that’s true.”

  “Who was Francis Drake?”

  “Why, ever’ sailin’ man knows who he was,” Pops answered. “He’s just about the most famous sea cap’n there ever was. Anyhow the first mate ain’t so bad, whether he’s actual akin to Francis Drake or not. He’s satisfied with where he is. It’s Barkley that’s the real bastard. He has ambition, and there ain’t nothin’ worse than an evil man with ambition.”

  “Stand to for the Cap’n’s words,” First Mate Drake said, calling to a halt the mumbled conversation of the sailors there gathered.

  Captain Mumford was standing on the edge of his domain, the poop deck, onto which no ordinary seaman, save the helmsman, could come unless specifically invited.

  The captain was of average height and body conformation, but with a face that was weathered by many years at sea. Clearing his throat, he put his hands behind him and began to speak in a voice that was loud enough to be heard clearly by every man on the ship.

  “Now, you men listen to me. Be reliable hands, and be aware of what’s around you, and we’ll do fine. Any man who turns into a malingerer will answer to Mr. Barkley, and he won’t be gentle in dealing with you.”

  Captain Mumford nodded toward Barkley. The second mate was glaring at the men as if he could barely restrain himself from grabbing someone and throwing him overboard.

  The captain continued. “I want no complaints from any of you. Most of you have been to sea before, and you know what is expected. You greenies, you’ll soon learn that you aren’t in your mama’s house. There’ll be no apple pie and sweet milk for you here, just salt mea
t and hardtack, a sailor’s food. If you don’t know your way about, find an old sailor to team up with, and do everything he tells you to do.

  “Now,” Captain Mumford went on. “Some of you may know that the Fremad is bound around the Horn for San Francisco, with a hard stop at The Plate. It’ll be difficult sailin’ around the Horn, but I expect each man to stand his watch without complaining. Any man who doesn’t will be tied to the mast and given enough lashes to correct the situation. Remember, each and every one of you belongs to me, body and soul. Now, stand by while the first and second mates pick the watches.”

  Drake, the first mate, had the first choice. “Miller!” he called.

  “Burke!” Barkley followed.

  For the next few minutes, the mates chose their watches, alternating the calls. Those selected by the first mate began to gather on the port side, while Barkley’s selections gathered on the starboard. The two watches would be identified from here on as the Port or Starboard Watch.

  When the selections were finished, all three of the shanghaied men were in Barkley’s watch. Cade wasn’t looking forward to being under Barkley, but he was glad that Pops and Stumpy were also a part of the Starboard Watch. He didn’t think it was mere chance that he, Hernandez and Tait all wound up in Barkley’s watch, and he mentioned it to Pops.

  “It ain’t just by chance at all,” Pops said. “Anytime they’s shanghaied sailors joinin’ a crew, it’s always the second mate that gets ‘em.”

  With the watches selected, all eyes now turned toward the poop deck, waiting for the captain’s order to make sail.

  “Cap’n, watches tolled out ‘n ready, sir!” the first mate shouted. Drake’s voice, Cade thought, could probably be heard back on shore.

  “Man the lee braces,” Captain Mumford shouted in a voice that matched that of the first mate.

  Some of the experienced crew were already at the brace belaying pin’s on both sides of the ship, and they cast off the big coils of line, carefully capsizing them onto the deck so they would run free. It took less effort to haul around the heavy spars without the added weight of wind resistance on the sails, so bracing the yards first saved a great deal of hard labor.

  “Lay aloft, you men,” the second mate hollered indicating half a dozen members of his watch. “Castoff clew and bunt lines.”

  Pops, in his early fifties, was at home aloft. The first man to respond to the mate’s orders, he ran up the mast easily. The others followed, including Cade. Reaching the yard, he stepped carefully onto the foot rope which immediately plunged 18 inches under his weight. He slid further out, trying to get a grip on the furled sail for support. The unyielding stiffness and weight of the canvas surprised him. When another sailor stepped out behind him, the foot rope jerked up under Cade’s feet. He yelled as he clutched the sail trying to wrap his arms around its bulk. Even though the foot rope had evened out, it continued to snap back and forth, causing his legs to shake with fear and with the strain of trying to hold on.

  Looking down some 65 feet, Cade heard Barkley shouting at them. He was inquiring whether they were going to just perch up there with their thumbs up their asses, or were they actually going to do some work? Then the orders began.

  “Slack away clew and bunt lines!”

  “Haul away Main and topsail sheets!”

  “Haul away all jibs!”

  “Belay for a main course tack!”

  The open sails hung down, barely filled by the scant wind.

  “To’ gallant and royal gaskets off!”

  Cade joined the others climbing farther up and inched out along the higher yards shaking off and coiling the light lines. He was up here with the others, and he knew he would have to do more than just hang on. His worst fear, even more intense than that of the height, was that he might disgrace himself. Yes he had been shanghaied, but he felt a real desire to be accepted by the crew.

  All sails now hoisted and trimmed, and the spanker and its topsail in place, the Fremad was under full sail, and headed south.

  “Full and by,” the captain ordered the helmsman.

  With the ship now underway, the Starboard Watch, which was the off-watch was dismissed from duty. Standing down at the start of a passage also signaled the official beginning of the watch schedule. From that point on, they would alternate four hours on and four hours off, except for the two dog watches, which were each two hours long, from 4 to 6 in the afternoon and 6 to 8 in the evening. This would allow the crew to alter the night watches, so that no one was stuck permanently on the same schedule.

  For the first couple of weeks of the voyage Cade found it hard to sleep because of the smoke, the changing of the watches, the constant noise from both above deck and below. The pitch and yaw of the vessel, which caused the hammock to swing, didn’t help much. But by two weeks into the voyage exhaustion had rendered Cade oblivious to all, and nothing kept him awake.

  He learned, quickly, that the routine of four hours on and four hours off meant that no one got more than three hours sleep at any one time, and most often considerably less than that. All of his personal business had to be done during his off watch. He had bought some clothes from the captain’s slop chest, and though they were even more expensive than the new clothes he had bought back in Memphis, they were old, and he had to keep them in repair and this repair work took time away from sleeping. He had also bought oil skins to wear on deck against sea-spray. He looked like every other sailor on the boat.

  In addition to the routine duties of self-maintenance, off time could be curtailed, or completely eliminated by the call of “All hands on deck!” That was a frequent necessity on this ship.

  Pops was helpful, but Cade soon learned that Pops was pretty much a loner, who, while friendly to all, was friend with none. The rest of the crew had their own circles of three or four men, and they tended to maintain previously established relationships. It was quickly obvious that they weren’t open to allowing anyone new into their little tight-knit assemblies.

  That left the three new men to form their own mutual support group. Cade and Bento Hernandez had already become friends, swapping backgrounds as they worked or just visited in the fo’c’sle before collapsing into an exhausted sleep.

  Bento, Cade learned, had come to Boston just prior to the Civil War. When the war started, he joined the navy, and was on board the Keersage when that vessel sank the Alabama, which had been the Confederate States most effective war ship.

  “We were on opposite sides during the war,” Bento pointed out, when Cade shared some of his own war experiences.

  “Yeah,” Cade replied with a smile. “But you were in the navy and I was in the army, and I can guarantee you that we never fired one shot at each other.”

  Although both men tried to make friends with Tait, the young man was totally unable to adjust to his situation. A college student from Harvard, his father was a wealthy man in Boston, and had paid for Tait to take a vacation in exotic New Orleans.

  “What does exotic mean?” Bento asked.

  “It means different and glamorous,” Tait explained. “I was in New Orleans for a week and while there, I stayed in the finest hotel, I ate in the finest restaurants, I enjoyed the most refined entertainment. But, I wanted to see the seamier side of the city before I went back to Boston, so I wandered down onto Canal Street and went into one of the bars.”

  “Tell me, Tait, did you happen to see an exotic woman in that bar?” Cade asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything beyond walking in. The next thing I knew, I woke up on this accursed ship.”

  “You should just try and make the best of it until we get back,” Cade said. “I mean, really, when you think of it, what other choice do we have?”

  “But my parents, they have no idea what happened to me. I know they are worried sick. This is wrong, this is so wrong.”

  By three weeks into the voyage, and with help from Bento and Pops, Cade had made a full adjustment to his circumstances, performing his duti
es as well as anyone else in the Starboard Watch. Tait was totally unable to adjust, and even though he tried, he remained a completely inept sailor. Barkley was vocal in his condemnation of the young man, cursing him constantly.

  “Good money!” Barkley shouted at Tait. “We paid Lundy good money for you, you whimpering little bastard!”

  Willoughby Tait was subjected to daily attacks by the rope’s end, and two or three times per week would be tied to the main mast where, at the second mate’s orders, the bo’sun would administer punishment, never more than twenty lashes, never less than ten. As a result, Tait’s back was constantly covered by puffed up, purple, and often oozing welts.

  “Mr. Barkley, I can’t whip this boy no more,” Higgins said. “He’s had enough punishment.”

  “You’ll lay on the lash, or I’ll have you tied to the mast to take his punishment for him,” Barkley said.

  Then, two days before they were due to make anchor at the Rio de la Plata, the ship encountered very heavy weather, pounding through a rough sea with steep sided waves that threw spray as far back as the poop deck, and aloft almost to the foretop. Occasionally a wave would break over the bow and sweep across the low-slung main deck. The wind, which was quite high, tended to take the ship more east than the captain wanted to go, and the running had to be adjusted to compensate for that.

  “Keep her full force, running with the wind,” the captain ordered the helmsman.

  It was the captain’s intention to run with the gale so that the ship could build up maximum speed. That way he could swing back into the wind and use the ship’s momentum to establish the tack.

  “Ready about!” The captain ordered.

  “All hands on deck to tack the ship! Ready about!” The first mate shouted, repeating the captain’s order.

  Cade, dealing with nausea in the rough sea, stumbled along the deck to the mainmast. The ship continued to plunge along to the southeast, steep waves crashing with such intensity that it sounded as if cannon balls were banging against the hull. The wind was loud and moaning in the web of rigging.