Under Sail 20

Under Sail 20

Frenchy, who was under the hatch, suddenly brought us to our senses.

"_Rain, boys! Rain!_" he shouted.

 

In our torture we had not noticed how dark it was getting, and when

the first large cool drops pattered down on the 'tween deck hatches

covering the cargo in the hold, we knew that relief was at hand. A

minute more and the rain came down in tropical torrents while we

struggled to get the big strongback into place, the hatch covers on,

and the tarpaulin spread. Our black tormentors had fled to cover under

a nearby shed, and the donkey engine crew were drawing the fire from

beneath their boiler. Nigger, too, had disappeared, for Scouse came up

determined to take a fall out of "that black ---- ----."

 

To say that we were thankful for the rain is mild; we were saved by

it, nothing less, and as we went to the fo'c'sle that night we were as

badly beaten a lot of men as ever cumbered the port of Honolulu.

 

"Say, Smith!" yelled Joe, shouting through the partition that separated

the fo'c'sles.

 

"Well, what do you want?"

 

"You was right when you said sumthin' about me workin' here."

 

"I told you you'd sweat, didn't I?" shouted back Old Smith.

 

"Say, Smith," in a chastened tone.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Was you sweatin', too?"

 

"Shut up! Shut up!" cried Jimmy in alarm. "If you wants to start a

fight, do it tomorrow, an' let your betters get some rest."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XV

 

HAWAIIAN HOSPITALITY

 

 

On a fateful Saturday night, the one when we drew five dollars apiece

against our payday, Peter, the boy, and I decided to go ashore and

have our hair cut by a regular barber and then indulge in the pleasure

of a luxurious bath with plenty of soap and a good big tub of hot

water. After the hair cut the bath--and this took us to a Japanese

establishment that was conducted upon true oriental lines. As a bath

house it was A1, but in addition to the supply of hot water, which was

drawn by a female attendant, I found that she (the attendant) was ready

to remain and assist in the scrubbing. Being of a modest turn of mind

myself, and unable to converse with this would-be helper, I finally

made known my desire for her removal by pushing her through the door.

The floor was slippery and in my embarrassment I may have given her

too hearty a shove, for she lost her footing and shot out in a most

undignified manner, "cutting the star" as we used to call it when

skating. Peals of laughter sounded through the flimsy walls, the Japs

taking the whole thing in good part.

 

However, in the native Japanese quarter, this sort of thing was

considered proper, and, as I afterward learned more of the Japanese,

while in their islands, I found that it was all a simple matter of

point of view and nothing at all extraordinary.

 

Of Peter a great deal might be said. He was a type of the young

American who will, when circumstances force him into it, go to sea.

However, I have only touched upon him lightly, as he in no way

represented that bygone breed of sailor that made history on the hard

square riggers of that day.

 

Peter had a delightful voice that passed in Honolulu in lieu of real

coin, at least among the Kanakas, where his wit and general good nature

won him many friends. We attended a luau up in the Nuuanu Valley, a

real native feast where we were received royally because of the high

regard in which Peter was held by the Kanakas. Poi, one finger stuff,

and none of your poverty stricken watery three and two finger poi of

the stevedores and little island traders, was on the bill of fare.

Pork, fish, and fruits of all kinds afforded by the islands were

served to us on _ti_ leaves, while _swipes_ flowed freely.

 

Peter sang "Hawaii Ponoi" over and over again with our hosts, and we

wound up late at night with the native girls dancing the Hula Hula.

All very decent, of course, but calculated to impress one with the

broader range of vision accorded simple strangers traveling in that

land of song and sunshine when without the stodgy hall mark of smug

respectability to hamper them in their enjoyment. Peter astonished the

natives by sleight of hand tricks with a pack of worn playing cards,

and before we left them had dated us up for another engagement. My head

the following morning was something to be remembered with respect,

and I swore off all further indulgence in the Kanaka's wonderful

hospitality.

 

On board, our routine became more established. After the consignment of

case oil was put over, we found the work less trying and were better

able to meet it as we accustomed ourselves to the new labor, although

the Republican-Royalist feud continued to the end of our stay. In the

main hold, directly below the hatch, we carried a locomotive boiler.

Getting this overboard called for some seamanship on the part of the

mate. He strengthened the main yard support by extra tackles, and

hoisted the fish fall up to the cargo pendant, which in turn was backed

by several parts of wire rope. The yard purchase was replaced by a

fourfold tackle rove off with new gear. Once ready, we sent the boiler

over the side in good style, setting it squarely on a flat car.

 

While this special gear for getting over the heavy freight was being

rigged, the remaining running gear of the braces was unrove, coiled and

marked for stowing while old stuff was sent up to take its place, as

all such untarred rope deteriorates rapidly when exposed to the dust

of the port for any length of time. Following the discharge of the

boiler we roused out a large number of cases of heavy machinery, all

to be assembled as a complete locomotive. The _Fuller_ was stowed with

a very mixed cargo, her manifest containing every kind of agricultural

and household implement imaginable. Castle and Cook, a large importing

house in the Islands, got a lot of our cargo and as we would unload a

consignment of stuff for them they would run an advertisement in the

daily papers--

 

CASTLE AND COOK, Large assortment of the best fruit jars with patent

screw tops just received from the States by Ship _A. J. Fuller._

 

Had we been wrecked on a desert island, our freight would have set us

up as a very respectable lot of Robinson Crusoes, for we brought the

most general of general cargoes.

 

After a week in port, my mosquito mottled face having subsided to

normal, I presented a letter of introduction to Mr. William H.

McInerny, at his place of business on Fort Street. Mr. McInerny, his

mother, sister and brothers, were most kind to me, and I enjoyed

their hospitality with an appreciation made extra keen by the life of

the ship. Clean table linen and all of the ordinary necessities of

civilized existence seemed extra good. On the other hand I had sense

enough to appreciate the life aboard ship. This was never dull, and was

soon destined to become particularly strenuous.

 

Mr. McInerny called for me frequently of a Sunday and took me driving

behind a pair of fast horses. His first appearance on the ship aroused

the gravest sort of suspicions in the mind of the mate. He eyed me

critically when I went ashore in my best Sunday suit, pressed the night

before by a Chinaman on Nuuanu Street. As we drove off, so Peter told

me afterward, the mate shook his head as much as to say, "Another young

fellow gone wrong."

 

The next morning there was considerable coldness in the manner of

the mate, but nothing actively malignant. He gave me no harder work

to do than before, but he did not condescend to his customary gruff

camaraderie.

 

When Mr. McInerny called for me again on the following Sunday with

a different rig and another pair of high steppers, Mr. Zerk became

thoroughly disgusted. On Monday he called me aft just before we turned

to after the washdown, and made some very sarcastic remarks about my

"dude friend."

 

"I suppose you will be getting out of the ship?" he ventured.

 

"I have never thought of getting out," I answered.

 

"Well, I was just thinking that you might have a chance to get out.

Maybe your friends with their horses and carriages would not like to

see you working too hard."

 

"I suppose they would hate to see me work hard, seeing what an easy

time I am having now."

 

"Damn your hide, they will hate to see you work before I get through

with you. Call that thick ass Scouse aft and that ---- ---- ---- ----

Joe."

 

When these unfortunates arrived they found Mr. Zerk under a heavy

pressure of bottled-up wrath. The whole silly business had so

exasperated him that he fairly sizzled with madness. Heretofore his

outbursts were mostly impersonal, at least they always seemed so to me;

merely a part of the day's work. We were now turned over to Chips and

found that he had received instructions to clean out the limbers of the

ship, starting in the fore peak and working aft as the bottom of the

hold was uncovered. From that time on until the ship was discharged I

was kept at the most disgusting work of the voyage. Bucket after bucket

of a thick sludge, the results of a previous voyage to the Orient, when

the _Fuller_ loaded some filthy cargo in Hong Kong, was lifted out. Of

course she was never cleaned in New York, where the crew was always

discharged as soon as the hook went down, and no longshore laborer

would do the work we were set to.

 

After three days of this Joe said to me as we came up out of the hold

covered with filth: "Here is where I quits. To hell with this. That

rotten bull aft thinks he can work anything off on us. Some may be soft

an' easy, but," and here Joe came in strong, "I can get thirty dollars

a month in the coasters, an' I won't be leavin' much. To hell with the

rotten skunk, says I."

 

That night Joe found a chance to go out on the barkentine _Irmgard_ due

to sail in two days for San Francisco. Like most of the craft trading

to the Islands from the coast, the _Irmgard_ was glad to pick up a

deepwater sailor. Joe agreed to work his passage to Frisco and would

then sign on regularly before the U. S. Commissioner. Joe wanted Scouse

to join him but the big fellow shook his head as Joe urged him, during

the next two days down in the bilge dirt. All conversation on the

subject of Joe's departure was taboo in the fo'c'sle, though Joe worked

hard to have Scouse join him, even going so far as to see that it would

be all right for him to ship in Frisco.