XXII
ON SUNDAY
Sunday is the day when ships are sailed in fine style. On week days,when the round of work goes on, a baggy topsail or an ill-trimmed yardmay stand till sundown, till the _work_ be done, but Sunday is sacredto keen sailing; a day of grace, when every rope must be a-taut-o, andthe lifts tended, and the Mates strut the weather poop, thinking atevery turn of suitable manoeuvres and sail drill that will keep thesailormen from wearying on this, their Day of Rest.
On a fine Sunday afternoon we lay at ease awaiting the Mate's nextdiscovery in the field of progress. She was doing well, six knots orseven, every stitch of sail set and drawing to a steady wind. Fromunder the bows came the pleasing _thrussh_ of the broken water, fromaloft the creak of block and cordage and the sound of wind against thecanvas. For over an hour we had been sweating at sheets and halyards,the customary Sunday afternoon service, and if the _Florence_, ofGlasgow, wasn't doing her best it was no fault of ours.
Now it was, "That'll do, the watch!" and we were each following ourSunday beat.
Spectacled and serious, 'Sails' was spelling out the advertisements ona back page of an old _Home Notes_; the two Dutchmen were following hiswords with attentive interest. The Dagos, after the manner of theirkind, were polishing up their knives, and the 'white men' were brushingand airing their 'longshore togs,' in readiness for a day that thegallant breeze was bringing nearer. A scene of peaceful idling.
"As shair's daith, he's gotten his e'e on that fore-tops'l sheet. Ahtelt ye; Ah telt ye!" Houston was looking aft. "Spit oan yer hauns,lauds! He's seen it. We're gaun tae ha'e anither bit prayer for th'owners!"
The Mate had come off the poop, and was standing amidships staringsteadily aloft.
"Keep 'oor eyes off that tops'l sheet, I tell 'oo," said Welsh Johnangrily. "He can't see it unless he comes forra'd; if he sees 'oolookin', it's forra'd he'll be, soon, indeed!"
There were perhaps a couple of links of slack in the tops'l sheet, asmall matter, but quite enough to call for the watch tackle--on aSunday. The crisis passed; it was a small matter on the main that hadcalled him down, and soon a 'prentice boy was mounting the rigging withropeyarns in his hand, to tell the buntlines what he thought ofthem--and of the Mate.
Bo'sun Hicks was finishing off a pair of 'shackles,' sailor handles forMunro's sea-chest--a simple bit of recreation for a Sunday afternoon.They were elaborate affairs of four stranded 'turks-heads' and doublerose knots, and showed several distinct varieties of 'coach whipping.'One that was finished was being passed round an admiring circle ofshipmates, and Hicks, working at the other, was feigning a greatindifference to their criticisms of his work.
"Di--zy, Di--zy, gimme yer awnswer, do," he sang with feeling, as hetwisted the pliant yarns.
"Mind ye, 'm not sayin' as them ain't fine shackles"--Granger was everthe one to strike a jarring note--"As fine a shackles as ever I see;but there was a Dutchman, wot I was shipmates with in th'_Ruddy-mantus_, o' London, as _could_ turn 'em out! Wire 'earts, 'emade 'em, an' stuffin', an' made up o' round sinnet an' dimon''itchin'! Prime! W'y! Look a here! If ye was t' see one ov 'isshackles on th' hend ov a chest--all painted up an' smooth like--yecouldn't 'elp a liftin' ov it, jest t' try th' grip; an' it 'ud comenat'ral t' th' 'and, jes' like a good knife. Them wos shackles as 'emade, an'----"
"Ho, yus! Shackles, wos they? An' them ain't no shackles wot 'ma-finishin' of? No bloomin' fear! Them's garters f'r bally dancers,ain't they? Or nose rings for Sullimans, or ----, or ----. 'Ere!"Hicks threw aside the unfinished shackle and advanced threateningly onhis critic.
"'Ere! 'Oo th' 'ell are ye gettin' at, anywye? D'ye siy as I cawn'tmake as good a shackles as any bloomin' Dutchman wot ever said _yaw_f'r yes? An' yer _Ruddy-mantus_, o' London? I knows yer_Ruddy-bloomin-mantus_, o' London! Never 'ad a sailorman acrost 'erfo'cas'le door! Men wot knowed their work wouldn't sail in 'er,anyhow, an' w'en she tided out at Gravesen', all th' stiffs out o' th''ard-up boardin'-'ouses wos windin' 'er bloomin' keeleg up!_Ruddymantus_? 'Er wot 'ad a bow like the side o' 'n 'ouse--comin' upth' Mersey Channel a-shovin' th' sea afore 'er, an' makin' 'igh waterat Liverpool two hours afore th' Halmanack! That's yer _Ruddy-mantus_!An' wot th' 'ell d'you know 'bout sailorizin', anywye? Yer never wosin a proper ship till ye come 'ere, on a dead 'un's discharge, an' yecouldn't put dimon' 'itchin' on a broom 'andle, if it wos t' get ye apension!"
Here was a break to our peaceful Sunday afternoon; nothing short of around or two could set matters fair after such an insult to a man'slast ship!
Someone tried to pacify the indignant bo'sun.
"'Ere, bo'sun! Wot's about it if 'e did know a blanky Dutchman wotmade shackles? Them o' yourn's good enough. I don't see nuthin' th'matter wi' them!"
"No--no! A-course ye don't, 'cos ye'r like that b----y Granger there,ye knows damn all 'bout sailorizin' anywye! Didn't ye 'ear 'im say asI couldn't make shackles?"
A chorus of denials, a babel of confused explanation.
"A-course 'e did," shouted the maker of shackles. "'E sed as I didn'tknow 'ow t' work round sennit an' dimon' 'itchin', as I wos never in aproper ship afore, as 'e knowed a bloomin' Dutchman wot could makebetter shackles nor me; sed as 'ow my shackles worn't fit f'r agrip----"
"'Ere! 'Ere!! bo'sun--I never sed nuthin' ov th' kind!" Theunfortunate Granger was bowing to the blast. "Wot I sed wos, 'ow themwas good shackles; as fine a shackles as ever I see--an' I wos onlytellin' my mates 'ere 'bout a Dutchman wot was in th' _Ruddymanthus_along o' me as could make 'em as smooth to the 'and----"
"An' wot's the matter wi' them?" Hicks picked up the discarded shackleand threw it at Granger, striking him smartly on the chest. "Ain'tthem smooth enough for yer lubberly 'an's, ye long-eared son of a----"
"_Fore-tops'l sheet, the watch there!!_"
The Mate had seen the slack links and the row in progress at the samemoment. The order came in time; strife was averted.
Three sulky pulls at a tackle on the sheets, a tightening of thebraces, then: "That'll do, the watch there! Coil down and put away thetackle!" Again the gathering at the fore-hatch. Hicks picked up hiswork and resumed the twisting of the yarns.
A great knocking out and refilling of pipes.
"'Bout that 'ere Dutchman, Granger? 'Im wot ye wos shipmates with."
Granger glanced covertly at the bo'sun. There was no sign of furtherhostilities; he was working the yarns with a great show of industry,and was whistling dolefully the while.
"Well, 'e worn't a proper Dutchman, neither," he began pleasantly; "'imbein' married on a white woman in Cardiff, wot 'ad a shop in Bute Road.See? Th' Ole Man o' th' _Ruddymanthus_, 'e wos a terror onsailorizin'----" Granger paused.
Again a squint at the bo'sun. There was no sign, save that thewhistling had ceased, and the lips had taken a scornful turn. "'E wosa terror on sailorizin', an' w'en we left Sydney f'r London, 'e said as'ow 'e'd give two pun' fer th' best pair o' shackles wot 'is men couldmake. There worn't many o' us as wor 'ands at shackles, an' there woronly th' Dutchman an' a white man in it--a Cockney 'e wos, name o'Linnet----"
The bo'sun was staring steadily at the speaker, who added hastily, "'ana damn good feller 'e wos, too, one o' th' best I ever wos shipmateswith; 'e wos a prime sailorman--there worn't many as could teach 'imanythin'----"
Bo'sun had resumed work, and was again whistling.
"It lay a-tween 'im an' this 'ere Dutchman. All the w'yage they wos atit. They wos in diff'rent watches, an' th' other fellers wos allusa-settin' 'em up. It would be, ''Ere, Dutchy, you min' yer eye.Linnet, 'e's got a new turn o' threads jes' below th' rose knots'; or,'Look-a-here, Linnet, me son, that Dutchman's puttin' in glossy beads,an' 'e's waxin' 'is ends wi' stuff wot th' stooard giv' 'im.' Thewatches wos takin' sides. 'Linnet's th' man,' says th' Mate's watch.'Dutchy, he's th' fine 'and at sailorizin',' says th' starbowlines.Worn't takin' no sides meself"--a side glance at the bo'sun--"me bein''andy man along o' th' carpenter, an' workin' all day."
The bo'sun put away his unfinished work, and, lighting his pipe--a signof satisfaction--drew nearer to the group.
"Off th' Western Islands they finished their jobs," continued Granger(confidently, now that the bo'sun had lit a pipe and was listening as ashipmate ought). "They painted 'em, an' 'ung 'em up t' dry. Fine theylooked, dark green, an' th' rose knots all w'ite. Dutchy's shackleswos werry narrer; worn't made f'r a sailorman's 'and at all, but 'eknowed wot e' wos a-doin' of, for th' Ole Man wos one o' them dandyblokes wot sails out o' London; 'an's like a lidye's 'e 'ad, an' w'enthey takes their shackles aft, 'e cottons t' Dutchy's at onest. 'Now,them's wot I calls shackles, Johnson, me man,' sez 'e. 'Jest fits me'and like a glove,' 'e sez, 'oldin' ov 'em up, an' lettin' 'em fallback an' forrard acrost 'is wrist. 'Linnet's is too broad,' 'e sez.'Good work, hexellint work,' 'e sez, 'but too broad for th' 'ands.'Linnet, 'e sed as 'ow 'e made shackles for sailormen's 'ands; sed 'edidn't 'old wi' Captains 'andlin' their own sea-chests, but it worn'tno use--Dutchy got th' two quid, an' th' stooard got cramp ov 'is 'andshevery time 'e took out th' Ole Man's chest ov a mornin'. An' th' Mategiv' Linnet five bob an' an ole pair o' sea-boots f'r 'is pair, an'cheap they wos, for Linnet, 'e wos a man wot knowed 'is work."
"A Mate's th' best judge ov a sailorman's work, anywye," said thebo'sun pleasantly.
"'Im? 'E wor a good judge, too," said the wily Granger. "'E said as'ow Linnet's wos out-an-out th' best pair. I knowed they wos, for themDutchmen ain't so 'andy at double rose knots as a white man!"
"No! Sure they ain't!"
The Brassbounder: A Tale of the Sea Page 22