The Brassbounder: A Tale of the Sea

by David W. Bone

  VII

  A HOT CARGO

  Shorefolk can have but a hazy idea of all that it means to thedeep-water sailor when at last, after long voyaging, the port of hisdestination heaves in sight. For months he has been penned up onshipboard, the subject of a discipline more strict than that in any wayof life ashore. The food, poor in quality, and of meagre allowance atthe best, has become doubly distasteful to him. The fresh water hasnearly run out, and the red rusty sediment of the tank bottoms has anauseating effect and does little to assuage the thirst engendered bysalt rations. Shipmates have told and retold their yarns, discussionsnow verge perilously on a turn of fisticuffs. He is wearying of sealife, is longing for a change, for a break in the monotony of day'swork and watch-keeping, of watch-keeping and day's work.

  A welcome reaction comes on the day when he is ordered to put theharbour gear in readiness. Generally he has only a hazy notion of theship's position (it is sea fashion to keep that an Officers' secret),and the rousing up of the long idle anchor chains and tackle is hisfirst intimation that the land is near, that any day may now bring theshore to view, that soon he will be kicking his heels in a sailor-towntavern, washing off his 'salt casing' with lashings of the right stuff.

  This was in part our case when we were a hundred and forty days outfrom the Clyde. The food was bad and short allowance; the key of thepump was strictly guarded, but we had excitement enough and to spare,for, six days before our 'landfall,' the bo'sun discovered fire in thefore-hold that had evidently been smouldering for some time, wasdeep-seated, and had secured a firm hold.

  It was difficult to get at the fire on account of the small hatchway,and notwithstanding the laboured efforts of all hands, we were at lastobliged to batten the hatches down and to trust to a lucky 'slant' toput us within hail of assistance. The water which we had sofruitlessly poured below had all to be pumped out again to get the shipin sailing trim; and heart-breaking work it was, with the wheezy oldpump sucking every time the ship careened to leeward. Anxiety showedon all faces, and it was with great relief that, one day at noon, wewatched the Mate nailing a silver dollar to the mizzenmast. The dollarwas his who should first sight the distant shore.

  We held a leading wind from the norrard, and when, on the afternoon ofa bright day, we heard the glad shout from the fore-tops'lyard--"Land-oh"--we put a hustle on our movements, and, light at heart,found excuse to lay aloft to have a far-away look at God's good earthagain. It was the Farallone Islands we had made--thirty miles westfrom the Golden Gate--a good landfall. Dutch John was the lucky man tosee it first, and we gave him a cheer as he laid aft to take the dollaroff the mast.

  In the second dog-watch we hung about the decks discussing prospectivedoings when we set foot ashore, and those who had been in 'Friscobefore formed centres of inquiry and importance. From the bearing ofthe land, we expected orders to check in the yards, but, greatly to oursurprise, the Mate ordered us to the lee fore-brace, and seemed to beunable to get the yards far enough forrard to please him. When WeeLaughlin came from the wheel at eight bells, we learned that the shipwas now heading to the nor'east, and away from our port; and the oldhands, with many shakings of the head, maintained that some tricky gamewas afoot. The Old Man and the Mate were colloguing earnestly at thebreak of the poop; and Jones, who went aft on a pretence of trimmingthe binnacle, reported that the Old Man was expressing heated opinionson the iniquity of salvage. At midnight we squared away, but as weapproached the land the wind fell light and hauled ahead. Wonder ofwonders! This seemed to please the Captain hugely, and his face beamedlike a nor'west moon every time he peered into the compass.

  Dawn found us well to the norrard of the islands, and close-hauled,standing into the land. From break of day all hands were busy gettingthe anchors cleared and the cables ranged. Some were engaged paintingout the rusty bits on the starboard top-side. A 'work-up' job theythought it was until the Mate ordered them to leave the stages hangingover the water abreast of the fore-hatch. Here the iron plating washot, the paint was blistered off, and every time the ship heeled overthere was an unmistakable _sssh_ as the water lapped the heated side.This, and the smell of hot iron, was all that there was to tell of oursmouldering coal below, but 'Frisco men from the Water Front are sharpas ferrets, and very little would give them an inkling of the state ofaffairs. Presently we raised the land broad on the port bow, and twoof us were perched on the fore-to'gal'nt yard to look out for the pilotschooner; or, if luck was in our way, a tow-boat. The land became moredistinct as the day wore on, and the bearing of several conspicuoushills gave the Captain the position he sought. Before noon we reportedsmoke ahead, and the Mate, coming aloft with his telescope, made outthe stranger to be a tow-boat, and heading for us. We were called downfrom aloft, and the ship was put about.

  We were now, for the second time, heading away from our port; and whenthe Mate set us to slap the paint on the burned patch, we understoodthe Old Man's manoeuvre, which had the object of preventing thetow-boat from rounding to on our starboard side. Her skipper wouldthere have assuredly seen evidences of our plight, and would not havebeen slow to take advantage of it.

  The tug neared us rapidly (they lose no time on the Pacific slope), andthe Captain recognised her as the _Active_.

  "She's one of Spreckel's boats," said he, shutting his glass. "Cutbushruns her, an' he's a dead wide ane. If he smells a rat, Mister, we'llbe damned lucky if we get into harbour under a couple o' thousand."

  We were all excited at the game, though it mattered little to us whatour owners paid, as long as we got out of our hot corner. Straight forus he came, and when he rounded our stern and lay up on the leequarter, the bo'sun voiced the general opinion that the Old Man haddone the trick.

  "Morn, Cap.! Guess ye've bin a long time on th' road," sang out thetow-boat's skipper, eyeing our rusty side and grassy counter.

  "Head winds," said the Old Man, "head winds, an' no luck this side o'th' Horn."

  "Ye're a long way to th' norrard, Cap. Bin havin' thick weatheroutside?"

  "Well, not what ye might call thick, but musty, these last few days.We were lookin' to pick up the Farallones." (The unblushing oldAnanias!)

  There ensued a conversation about winds and weather, ships andfreights, interspersed with the news of five months back. The talkwent on, and neither seemed inclined to get to business. At last thetow-boat man broke the ice.

  "Wall, Cap., I reckon ye don't want t' stay here all day. Wind'seasterly inside, an' there ain't none too much water on th' bar. Ye'dbetter give us yer hawser 'n let's git right along."

  "Oh! no hurry, Capt'in; there's no hurry. What's a day here or therewhen ye'r well over the hundreds? I can lay up to th' pilot ground onth' next tack.... Ye'll be wantin' a big figure from here, an' myowners won't stand a long pull."

  "Only six hundred, Cap., only six hundred, with your hawser."

  The Old Man started back in amazement.

  "Six hundred dollars, Capt'in. Did you say six hundred? Holy smoke!I don't want t' buy yer boat, Capt'in.... Six hundred--well, I'mdamned. Loose them royals, Mister! Six hundred, no damn fear!"

  Quickly we put the royals on her, though they were little use, the windhaving fallen very light. The tow-boat sheered off a bit, and herskipper watched us sheeting-home, as if it were a most interesting anduncommon sight.

  He gave his wheel a spoke or two and came alongside again.

  "All right, Cap. Give us yer hawser 'n I'll dock ye for five-fifty!"

  The Old Man paid no attention to his request, but paced fore and aftthe weather side, gazing occasionally at the lazy royals, then fixingthe man at the wheel with a reproachful eye. At last he turned toleeward with a surprised expression, as if astonished to find thetow-boat still there.

  "Come, Cap.! Strike it right naow! What d'ye offer? Mind the wind,as there is ov it, is due east in the Strait."

  The Old Man thought carefully for quite a time. "Hundred 'n fifty, 'nyour hawser," he said.

 
The Captain of the _Active_ jammed his telegraph at full speed ahead.

  "Good morn', Cap.," he said. "Guess I'll see ye in 'Frisco this sideo' the Noo Year." He forged rapidly ahead, and when clear of the bowstook a long turn to seaward. The Mate took advantage of his being awayand wiped off the paint on the burned patch, which was beginning tosmell abominably. Fresh paint was hurriedly put on, and the stageswere again aboard when the _Active_, finding nothing to interest her onthe western horizon, returned--again to the lee quarter.

  "Saay, Cap., kan't we do a deal; kan't we meet somewhere?" saidCutbush, conciliatory. "Say five hundred or four-eighty, 'n I'll tossye for th' hawser?"

  "I can't do it, Capt'in.... I'd lose my job if I went," (here the OldMan paused to damn the steersman's eyes, and to tell him to keep herfull) "if I went that length."

  The tow-boat again sheered off, and her skipper busied himself with histelescope.

  "Wall, Cap., she may be a smart barque, but I'm darn ef ye can beat herthough the Golden Gate the way th' wind is. Saay! Make itthree-fifty? What the hell's about a fifty dollars. Darn me! I'veblown that in half-hour's poker!"

  "Aye, aye! That's so; but I'm no' takin' a hand in that game. Set thestays'ls, Mister, 'n get a pull on the fore 'n main sheets!"

  We went about the job, and the _Active_ took another turn, this time tothe south'ard. Munro, aloft loosing the staysails, reported a steameraway under the land. She was sending up a dense smoke, and that causedthe Old Man to account her another tow-boat out seeking.

  "That'll fetch him," he said to the Mate, "'n if he offers again I'llclose. Three-fifty's pretty stiff, but we can't complain."

  "Egad, no!" said the Mate; "if I'd been you I'd have closed for fivehundred, an' be done with it."

  "Aye, aye, no doubt! no doubt! But ye're not a Scotchman looking afterhis owners' interest."

  Soon we saw the _Active_ smoking up and coming towards us with 'a bonein her mouth.' Cutbush had seen the stranger's smoke, and he lost notime. He seemed to be heading for our starboard side, and we thoughtthe game was up; but the Old Man kept off imperceptibly, and again thetug came to port.

  "Changed yer mind, Cap.? Guess I must be gwine back. Got t' take the_Drumeltan_ up t' Port-Costa in th' mornin'. What d'ye say t' threehundred?"

  The Old Man called the Mate, and together they held a seriousconsultation, with many looks to windward, aloft, and at the compass.The stranger was rapidly approaching, and showed herself to be ayellow-funnelled tow-boat, with a business-like foam about her bows.Spreckel's man was getting fidgety, as this was one of the oppositionboats, and he expected soon to be quoting a competitive figure. To hispleased surprise, the Old Man came over to leeward, and, after a lastwrangle about the hawser, took him on at the satisfactory figure ofthree hundred dollars.

  We put about, and the Mate had another little deal in burned paint.Courses were hauled up, and the Active came along our starboard side topass the towing wire aboard. The paint hid the patch, and in themanoeuvre of keeping clear of our whisker-booms, the smell escapednotice, and the marks of our distress were not noticed by her crew. Wehauled the wire aboard and secured the end, and the _Active's_ crewheard nothing significant in the cheer with which we set aboutclewing-up and furling sail.

  The afternoon was far spent when we reached the pilot schooner. Shewas lying at anchor outside the bar, the wind having died away; and asshe lifted to the swell, showed the graceful underbody of an old-time'crack.' The pilot boarded us as we towed past. Scarce was he overthe rail before he shouted to the Old Man, "What's the matter, Cap'n?Guess she looks 's if she had a prutty hot cargo aboard."

  "Hot enough, Pilot! Hot enough, b' Goad! We've bin afire forr'ardthese last seven days that we know of, and I'm no' sayin' but that I'mglad t' see th' beach again."

  "Wall, that's bad, Cap'n. That's bad. Ye won't make much this trip, Iguess, when the 'boys' have felt ye over.' He meant when the 'Friscosharps had got their pickings, and the Old Man chuckled audibly as hereplied.

  "Oh, we'll chance that--aye, we'll chance that. It's no' so bad 's ifCutbush was gettin' his figger."

  "What's he gettin', anyway?"

  "Oh, he's doin' verra well. He's doin' verra well," said the Old Manevasively.

  We were now approaching the far-famed Golden Gate, the talk of marinerson seven seas. We boys were sent aloft to unrig the chafing gear, andtook advantage of our position and the Mate's occupation to nurse thejob, that we might enjoy the prospect. The blue headland and theglistening shingle of Drake's Bay to the norrard and the high cliffs ofBenita ahead: the land stretching away south, and the light of thewesting sun on the distant hills. No wonder that when the Mate calledus down from aloft to hand flags there was much of our work leftunfinished.

  At Benita Point we had a busy time signalling news of our condition tothe ship's agents at 'Frisco. After we passed through the Narrows, wehad a near view of the wooded slopes of Saucilito, with thewhite-painted houses nestling comfortably among the trees. Away to theright the undulating plains of the Presidio reached out to the purplehaze of the distant city. The Pilot, seeing admiration in our eyes,couldn't help blowing, even to us boys, and exclaimed aloud on thegreatness of the U-nited States in possessing such a sea-board.

  "Saay, boys," he said. "Guess yew ain't got nothin' like this in th'old country!"

  Young Munro, who was the nearest, didn't let the Pilot away with that,and he mentioned a 'glint of Loch Fyre, when the sun was in thewest'ard.' "And that's only one place I'm speakin' of."

  The sun was low behind us as we neared the anchorage, and a light hazesoftened and made even more beautiful the outlines of the stately City.As we looked on the shore, no one had mind of the long dreary voyage.That was past and done. We had thought only for the City of the Westthat lay before us, the dream of many long weary nights.

  But, as I gazed and turned away, I was sharply minded of what the seaheld for us. Houston had been carried on deck, "t' see th' sichts," ashe said. His stretcher stood near me, and the sight of his wan facebrought up the memory of bitter times 'off the Horn.' Of the blacknight when we lost Duncan! Of the day when Houston lay on the cabinfloor, and the master-surgeon and his rude assistants buckled to 'thejob'! Of the screams of the tortured lad--"Let me alane! Oh, Christ!Let me al----" till kindly Mother Nature did what we had no means todo! ... "Man, but it was a tough job, with her rolling and pitching inthe track o' th' gale!" The Old Man was telling the Pilot about it."But there he is, noo! As sound as ye like ... a bit weak, mebbe, butsound! ... We'll send him t' th' hospital, when we get settleddown.... No' that they could dae mair than I've dune." Here a smileof worthy pride. "But a ship 's no' the place for scienteeficmeasures--stretchin', an' rubbin', an' that.... Oh, yes! Straight?I'll bate ye he walks as straight as a serjunt before we're ready forsea again!"

  As we drew on to the anchorage, a large raft-like vessel with barges intow made out to meet us. The Old Man turned his glasses on her andgave an exclamation of satisfaction.

  "Meyer's been damn smart in sending out the fire-float," he said to theMate, adding, "Get the foreyard cock-billed, Mister; and a burtonrigged to heave out the cargo as soon 's we anchor. There's thetow-boat whistlin' for ye to shorten in th' hawser. Bear a hand, mindye, for we've a tough night's work before us."

  * * * * *

  But all was not pleasant anticipation aboard of the screw tug _Active_,towing gallantly ahead, for Captain John Cutbush had discovered hisloss, and the world wasn't big enough for his indictment of Fortune.

  He had seen our flags off Benita, but had not troubled to read themessage, as he saw the answering pennant flying from the Lighthouse.In scanning the anchorage for a convenient berth to swing his tow in,the fire-float caught his eye.

  "Hello! somethin' afire in th' Bay!" He turned his glasses among theshipping, in search of a commotion, but all was quiet among the tallships.

  "But where's she lyin'-to fer? There ain't nothi
n' this side ovAlcatraz, I reckon."

  Then a dread suspicion crossed his mind, that made him jump for thesignal-book. He remembered the flags of our last hoist, and feverishlyturned them up.

  "Arrange--assistance---for--arrival."

  Muttering oaths, he dropped the book and focussed his glasses on thetow. The track of the fire was patent to the world now, and we wereunbending the sails from the yards above the fore-hatch.

  "She's afire right 'nuff, 'n I never cottoned. Roast me for a ----.'N that's what the downy old thief was standin' t' th' norrard for, 'nI never cottoned! 'N that's what he took me on at three hundred for,'n Meyer's boat almost along-side. Three ---- hundred 'n my ----hawser. Waal--I'm--damned! The old limejuice pirate! Guess I should'a known him for a bloody sharp when I saw Glasgow on her stern."

  He stopped cursing, to blow his whistle--a signal for us to shorten inthe towing hawser. In the ensuing manoeuvres he was able to relievehis feelings by criticising our seamanship; he swung us round with avicious sheer, eased up, and watched our anchor tumbling from the bows.He gazed despairingly at his Mate, who was steering.

  "Here's a ruddy mess, Gee-orge," he said. "Three thousan' dollarsclean thrown away. What'll the boss say. What'll they say on th'Front?"

  George cursed volubly, and expended much valuable tobacco juice.

  "Here's a boomer fer th' 'Examiner,' Geeorge; here's a sweet headlinefer th' 'Call'!

  "'Cutbush done!'

  "'Cap'n Jan Cutbush done in th' eye!!'

  "'Cap'n Jan S. Cutbush, th' smartest skipper on th' Front, done in thebloody eye by a bargoo-eatin' son ef a gun ef a grey-headedlimejuicer!!!'"