'Not a bit. Help yourself to the Scotch.'
'Thanks.'
He put his feet up on the desk.
'Father made a fine showing to-day,' he said.
'Where is he now?'
'Sleeping it off. I just went up to see if the Third Mate's sober. You've never seen any of us go on watch sloshed, have you?'
'No, never.'
'It doesn't matter about the Old Man. Some of 'em kill a bottle a day and still keep their jobs.' He stretched. 'I wish this one would drop dead,' he said amiably.
'You'd get promotion, you mean?'
He nodded.
'I'm next on the list. Trouble is, all the other skippers in the Company are as healthy as apprentices. They'll have to give me a command soon,' he added, sadly. 'I'm getting too old and fat to go running up and down hatch ladders.'
'You'll get one soon enough.'
'I don't know. All I want is a command-it doesn't matter if the ship sinks as soon as we get out of port. As long as I can call myself Captain. That's what I've been at sea for all these years-all the way up, apprentice, third, second, mate. That's what keeps us sane, most of us. Waiting for a ship of our own. Then I'm going to chuck the sea and raise chickens.'
'I bet you won't.'
'It's a mug's game. When you've been at it a couple of years they've got you where they want you. There's nothing for you ashore-what good's a master's ticket in the Labour Exchange? The sea's a positive bitch. You can't run away from her if you want to.'
'I suppose you're right there.'
'You staying at sea, Doc?'
'Me? Oh, no. I'm going back to general practice in the provinces, I suppose,' I saw the grey streets, the grey skies, the grey complexions of the patients; wet winter mornings and acrid summer ones; frightened faces on the doorstep at three in the morning; four o'clock parties with conversation like the weak over-sweetened tea; hedging respectability, the eternal narrowness of the persistent provincial.
'Perhaps,' I added.
'Well,' Hornbeam said. 'The only thing to do with life is to live it, you know. Shall we have a last one?' I passed him the bottle. 'We'll be in B.A. to-morrow,' he added more cheerfully. 'You can have some fun there.'
***
'Everything's on the top line here since they had the purity campaign,' the Third said. 'Now it's as clean as Blackpool. Pity.'
We were lying off the big, white, flat city of Buenos Aires, lines of tall, angular buildings running down to the clean waterfront.
'It's pretty nice here in the New Port,' the Third went on.
'Where do we go?' I asked.
'Down by the meat works.'
Two hours later the Lotus was coaxed through the narrow entrance of the South Dock, and tied up not far from the big grey refrigerating plant.
'Smells like a farm, don't it?' Easter remarked, as we were drawing alongside. 'Don't 'arf get a lot of flies down here. Thick as coppers on a racecourse, they are.'
'So this is where the beef comes from?'
'That's it. They walk in one end and half an hour later they slides out in a tin. Smart, these boys are.'
Our reception was the same as in Santos, except that everyone spoke Spanish. The same functionaries hurried aboard, made for the Mate's cabin, and drank the Mate's gin, from which the business of the ship seemed inseparable. But Hornbeam was determined for once, to go ashore.
'I've only had a couple all day,' he said proudly to me. 'Look at the bottle for yourself. I'm going to take you lads on a treat tonight. See you about ten.'
'I'll hold you to that.'
'Word of honour, Doc.'
Hornbeam kept his promise. When Trail, Archer, and myself met him in his cabin he was glowing but not extinguished.
'Just a quick one before we leave,' he said, unclipping the cap of another gin bottle. 'It's all on me to-night, boys. I've got plenty of pesos.'
'Where did you land them from?' Archer asked.
Hornbeam winked.
'The Mate's got to have a few perks,' he explained. 'Small present from the stevedores for giving them the pleasure of our custom. Also a token from the chandlers for the honour of providing us with deck stores. Strictly against Company regs., of course. Oh, I've got about'-he pulled some notes from his pocket-'about a thousand pesos.'
'That's forty quid,' Trail said reverently.
'Nothing but the best to-night!' Hornbeam continued. 'Drink up, and we'll hit the town.'
'This is the Boca,' Hornbeam explained, as we walked over the railway tracks towards the gawky German gantry bridge. 'One of the toughest spots in South America. A bos'n I sailed with once got beaten up about here. Left him only his shoes. He was a big chap, too.'
'I wish they wouldn't put ships in such insalubrious districts,' I said. 'It's like living in the slums.'
'They reckon the slums are good enough for sailors, I suppose.'
To reach the town we climbed into a small boat and were rowed across the slimy river towards the Boca's main street.
'Hard work finding a taxi in B.A. these days,' Trail said. 'We'd better climb in a colectivo.'
'A quick one in old Mother Whitehead's first,' Archer insisted. 'After all, it's known to every Liverpool fireman since steam came in.'
We had a couple of drinks described guardedly as Special Cocktails, and ate bits of chopped meat, nuts, mussels, cheese, and olives from the small plates the citizens of Buenos Aires expect to be handed with their drinks.
'On me,' Hornbeam said firmly, pulling out a fifty-peso note. 'Now let's go down town and have a steak.'
We went to the broad, bright Avenida Corrientes, the Broadway of B.A. In one of the grill rooms we sat down and ate steaks three inches thick.
'Nothing like nourishment,' Hornbeam observed. 'I'm going to have another of these. How about you, Doc?'
I shook my head, as my mouth was too full to speak.
'You'll want it in a few weeks' time when you're treating yourself to a nice spaghetti on toast. How about a bottle of Argentine wine? It's not bad. All on me, you blokes.'
We rose uneasily from the table when Hornbeam paid the bill. By now his already generous feelings towards the evening were accentuated by heavy feeding.
'I'm going to show you boys the town,' he said handsomely. 'Everything's my treat. Where shall we go to?'
'How about El Nidito?' Archer suggested. 'Or L'Atelier?'
'There's a joint I used to know round the corner,' Hornbeam said, scratching his forehead. 'Little redhead in there plays the guitar.'
He was delighted to find the bar was still there, though, reasonably enough, the redhead wasn't. It was a small, dim place with a band playing sambas in the corner and a tall girl caressing a microphone not much thinner than herself.
'Lovely grub!' Hornbeam said with relish. 'What's it to be? Scotch?'
There was no Scotch but they gave us the locally distilled whisky, which tasted like an old-fashioned carminative mixture. Trail got into earnest conversation with the girl behind the bar, who came from Lytham St. Anne's, and I sat wondering what the whisky was doing to my gastric lining.
'I've had this place,' Hornbeam said impatiently after a few minutes. 'Let's move on.'
'But we've only just arrived.'
'It's too quiet. Come on, blokes. It's my party, so I can take it anywhere.'
We went to a good many bars. They all offered the same-darkness, sambas, local whisky, and a girl behind the bar who came from some spot comparable to Lytham.
'It's half-past one,' I said to Archer later. 'Doesn't anyone go to sleep in B.A.?'
'Things are only beginning. They go on like this all night.'
'They must be a tougher race than we are. Apart from the hours, they seem to put up with their own whisky.'
Hornbeam was seized with a final inspiration.
'Let's go to the Saratoga, boys,' he announced.
'That's a posh do,' Trail told him dubiously. 'It's an expensive joint, particularly at this hour of the night.'
'Only the best is good enough for us,' Hornbeam insisted. 'Saratoga next stop. I want to see the dancing girls.'
We found a cab and drove down the street to the Saratoga. It was a class above the bars and night clubs we had been to-a small silk-lined place with two bands, a tiny dance floor, and a stage. Hornbeam strode in and demanded a table at the front.
'This is more like it!' he said contentedly. 'I'm fed up with slumming.'
He ordered some champagne.
I looked around me and saw it was certainly more fortunate in its clientele than the other places we had visited. The tone was marred only by our party, in which Hornbeam was now leaning back in his chair, clapping his hands, and demanding 'Bring on the fat women!'
'There aren't any here, are there?' I asked Archer.
'You wait, Doc,' he said. 'Three blokes can't sit down alone anywhere south of Panama without something turning up.'
He was right. A good-looking blonde in a white evening gown sat on the chair beside me.
'You buy me a t'rink, no?' she said.
The waiter had already appeared and brought her a thimbleful of red liquid in a liqueur glass. He also brought a green counter, which he handed to her. This she placed in her handbag.
'I'd better put you wise,' Archer said across the table. 'Out here you buy the coloured water and she gets the commission. If you can last out till four you go home with her buckshee.'
'I don't think I can last out the next ten minutes.'
The girl swallowed her glassful swiftly, like a bad medicine.
'You buy me another t'rink, no?'
The waiter gave her a second glass, and another counter.
'This is going to work out expensive,' I said.
'All on me, Doc,' Hornbeam said grandly. 'Tell her to send her friends over.'
Two more girls appeared and started drinking with the frightening rapidity of their companion. However, we all became very friendly, and Hornbeam ordered some more champagne.
When Trail fell asleep on the table I said, 'Hadn't we better get the bill, Chief? I could do with some sleep myself.'
'Mozo!' Hornbeam demanded. 'Bill, pronto!'
It was given to him immediately, neatly folded on a plate. He scowled at the figures, and began counting notes from his pocket.
'You buy me anot'er t'rink, no?' said the blonde.
'No. The bar's down.'
She got up and walked away.
'Say, Doc,' Hornbeam called. 'Can you lend me five hundred pesos?'
'What!'
'I seem to be a bit short.' Hornbeam spread his notes on the table. He had been carried away by his generosity into a ditch of insolvency.
We searched in our pockets, waking Trail up to join in.
Ninety-eight pesos,' Archer said. 'That's all we can muster.'
Hornbeam looked shiftily over his shoulder. The waiter, with that second sight which waiters have, was aware that some hitch had arisen and threw dark glances at us. Visions of Argentine prisons shimmered before my eyes: I was sure the Buenos Aires police would arrest with the alacrity of their comrades in Santos.
'This is serious,' I said. 'Hasn't anyone got any money at all?'
We searched our pockets again.
Not a centavo,' Trail said. 'I've got a couple of bob though.'
'Someone will have to go back to the ship and raise the wind,' Archer said. 'That's all there is for it. The others will sit here and pretend they're enjoying themselves. We'll toss for who goes.'
We tossed a twenty-centavo piece. I lost.
'Better take the ninety-eight pesos and see if you can get a cab,' Hornbeam said. 'Make it snappy. Ten pound notes will cover it at black-market rates.'
I stood outside in the hot dry air, already feeling the apprehending hand on my shoulder. I saw an empty cab on the other side of the street and leapt towards it.
'Dock Sul,' I said.
But the driver could take me only as far as the rowing boat. I had to cross the river and walk alone across the railway tracks to the ship. I strode breathlessly along the middle of the road, looking behind me more than in front. A cat leapt across my path from shadow to shadow and I yelped. I ran through the dock gates and up the gangway.
The Lotus was dead. The quartermaster was in a chair by the gangway, asleep. Everyone not ashore was in their bunks, wallowing in the deep unhindered unconsciousness of watch-keepers in port.
I thought my best chance was represented by the Chief Engineer. He was lying with his mouth open on top of his bunk.
'Chief!' I called softly. I shook him. 'Chief!'
He stopped snoring and grunted.
'Chief! Wake up!'
He opened his eyes.
'Stop the feed pumps and stand-by all engineers,' he said.
'No Chief! It's the Doc. Can you lend me some money?'
'Money? What for, man? At this hour of night.'
'I'll explain later. But I must have it now. In a hurry.'
'Wait till I put my teeth in, lad.'
He gave me five pound notes. The rest I collected by rousing Whimble, the Second Steward, three or four of the engineers, and Easter.
I ran back to the ferry, crumpling the notes in my hands. I had to walk half a mile up the long road to the City before I found a taxi. When I jumped out I found my expedition had taken the best part of an hour, and the Saratoga was rising to a final burst of activity before closing for the night. I looked in nervously, wondering if my companions had already been extracted by the police, or had generously been allowed to wash dishes in the basement.
Neither of these misfortunes had occurred to them. In my absence they had all drawn a second wind and were enjoying themselves hugely. They had three new girls and another bottle of champagne.
'I've got the money,' I said breathlessly, falling into a chair.'
'Ah, there's the old Doc!' Hornbeam said with surprise. 'Where did you come from?'
'I went to get some money to pay the bill,' I said angrily. 'Don't you remember.'
'That's right,' Archer agreed. 'Good old Doc. Mozo! Bill!'
Another bill was presented. Before they read the figures I knew what was coming.
'That ten quid means five hundred pesos,' Hornbeam said solemnly. 'Then there's this here-have you got any left, Doc?'
I threw him a few peso notes.
'Umm,' he said. 'Looks as if we need about five hundred pesos.'
'Well,' Trail said brightly. 'The Doc had better go back for some more.'
I banged the table.
'No!' I said. 'No, I damn well won't! I don't care if we all go to jail, but I'm not going back to the ship!'
The manager, who had been hovering in the distance like a well-preened vulture, put his head into our group.
'Anything wrong, gentlemen?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said. 'We can't pay the bill.'
I folded my arms and prepared to be arrested with the dignity of an Englishman. 'Unfortunate,' said the manager.
'Bloody unfortunate,' Hornbeam said.
'How much are you gentlemen short? Five hundred pesos, I see. You are seafaring gentlemen, are you not?'
'Don't we look like it?' I said.
'A not uncommon predicament. Always seafaring gentlemen. A nice watch you have,' he said to Trail. 'Must be worth at least a hundred pesos.'
'It cost me twenty quid in Durban,' Trail said hotly. I stopped him.
'Hand it over,' I said.
He sulkily unstrapped his watch.
'You other gentlemen have equally valuable timepieces,' the manager continued.
'Your turn,' Trail said, brightening a little.
Hornbeam, Archer, and I surrendered ours.
'I think,' the manager continued, 'a Parker 51 would settle it.'
I gave him the pen from my pocket.
'Now get the hell out of here, you bums,' he said, 'or I'll get the cops on you.'
We stood, a forlorn quartet, on the pavement.
'Oh well,' said Hornbeam. 'You know what I told you the ot
her night. The only thing to do with life is to live it. Now let's start walking back to the ship.'
Chapter Fourteen
If you must be broke, there are many conveniences in being broke as a seafarer on ship's articles. The necessities of life, such as food, shelter, cigarettes, and gin, continue to be supplied regularly, either free or on account until the end of the voyage; and the state arouses among one's companions a lively sympathy expressed on land only on occasions of severe illness or other bitter natural misfortune. When the story of our visit to the Saratoga spread round the ship the next morning we were chivvied with offers of help from all hands.
'Had a bit of a night of it, I hear, Doctor,' Easter said jovially.
'I'm afraid so.'
'I don't hold with that there Saratoga,' he continued reflectively. 'Mind you, they has some very posh tarts there, very posh. But they don't 'arf burn up the rhino. Is it worth it? I ask you. Now, me and Chippy goes ashore quiet like, and has a few beers in old Ma Whitehead's. If we feels like indulging, as you might say, we goes round the back to a little place what Chippy reckons he was first taken to by his father when he was sailing as a deckboy. Mind, they ain't no great beauties in there. In fact, Chippy reckons they're the same ones what his father knew. But they come economic like, and that's something these days, ain't it, Doctor?'
'Thank you, Easter. I appreciate your little lecture on thrift.'
'We lives and learns, Doctor. How about a small contribution, if you've run yourself short?' He pulled a bundle of peso notes from his jacket pocket.
'Definitely no!' I held up my hand, 'I insist on suffering justly for my indiscretions. Besides, I am already in debt to you. If you lent me any more you might not have enough left for your own modest pleasures, such as you have just described.'
'That's all right, Doctor. I just flogged some of that there penicillin what was expired. Dr. Flowerday and I used to split it fifty-fifty, but I don't mind taking forty-sixty to oblige. Barmy on penicillin, these Argentinos, I got rid of them there pills we didn't know what they was-them green ones in the back of the locker. Told 'em they was good for virility and charged a peso each. They go in for that sort of stuff a lot down here.'
'It is very kind of you, Easter, but-for reasons which I should be ashamed to confess-I much prefer you to keep the proceeds to yourself.'
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