CHAPTER VIII
There was a tensity in the "Push" that night, a sense of expectancy and foreboding, according to how they were constituted who felt it. There were minor squabbles. The lower deck gang had several to settle, and they never seemed to be settled. There was some slight friction in Candlass's gang also over the fact that, thanks to the whim of their straw-boss, they numbered three men less than the lower deck gang. Two of these three that had been made a gift of to Cockney were present when the subject was discussed, and the rising storm over that matter made several wonder where the third was—the youth in the long coat.
"Where's Four Eyes?" someone asked.
"Oh, to hell!" said several, which being interpreted means that they thought he was not worth worrying over.
Mike put his head on one side wondering, trying to remember if Four Eyes had been present in the crowd wrangling for food, but he could not remember, so he dismissed the subject. He was glad the fellow was out of his sight anyhow, and not in his gang. And as for defending himself in his action, which they now discussed, though he opened his mouth once or twice to do so, he desisted on each occasion. "Let them wrangle," his expression seemed to say. Charles, to give the Inquisitive One his name, was agitated; he had set this discussion agoing, and Mike's silence he began to feel as ominous. Mike was well aware that he had started the "grouse" about being three men short, and in an attempt to allay his forebodings, Charles now drew forth his mouth organ, and began to play. Some of the younger fry danced. One or two, who were mouth-organ experts, cocked their ears. They thought they could play every whit as well as the Inquisitive One. His rapid-fire eyes perceived this, and when he finished one tune, and these young men made a grab for the instrument, he leapt back snarling. There were shrieks of "Damn your eyes!" and "Half a mo'!" and "Give me a chance!" and "To hell with you!"
"Give us a lend of it then!"
"Half a mo'!" shrieked Charles, and broke into another tune, holding the mouth organ between the flattened palms of his hands, and putting a tremolo into the music by the adroit movement of them. The other would-be players drew back, sat down on their bunks. One of them, when the dancers added shouts to their dancing, growled: "A little less yelling like that. Let us hear the music."
"Who are you talking to?" said another, who had interspersed his dance with many whoops. It was a mistake, for the man who had ordered silence was that devilish, depravedly handsome, dandiacal person called Jack. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and rose. There was an expression at his mouth as of boredom. The youth who had "lipped" him dived out of the cabin. Jack strolled after him. One or two gave ear, listening for what sounds from outside might come through the music within. They made up their minds that nothing had happened, when suddenly there came throttling cries, and they listened anew, listened briefly, and then said: "Oh, to hell!" Jack strolled back again and looked at the two young men who had shown themselves as especial friends of the man he had been chastising out there in his own way. It was a brief but meaningful glance he gave to them; neither had any response. The music went on, with a few interludes after that fashion.
"Yes, very nice," said Mike eventually, gloomily. "Now we're going to sleep. There's a few of youse fellows is going to have a happy day to-morrow."
Some fell silent; others said: "Oh, we'll let them see!" It was growing cold on deck, and one by one the men who had been above came down into the stuffy cabin. The fellow who had "lipped" Jack crept in and retired to his bunk. Mike, backed by Michael and others, belligerently ordered the crew to strip. Several had already done so. They were not too cold; the place was reekingly hot, and for all the tendency of their oaths to be based upon naked matters, nakedness brought forth no giggling comments. The stripped men reclined in all manners of attitudes, carrying on conversations, rising on an elbow to gesticulate, hanging a leg over a bunkside in excitement—but there was none of that, no giggling at each other's nakedness. Now and then Scholar was inclined to smile, but it was a wholly humorous smile; he was thinking of what the people in the walk of life he came from would think if they were present. He was picturing his father reclining on the ottoman at home, rising up on an elbow as he discussed politics or taxation with other friends similarly at ease. Several grimly refused to strip.
"Oh, very well," said Mike. "Only I'm telling ye ye'll be lousy before we reach Liverpool, wearing yer pants day and night."
Jack and Johnnie whispered together, and then went up on deck with the air of young men going out on a "tear" for the evening. They were off to see if they could amuse themselves by discovering the lairs among the hay of one or two who had not come down to the cabin, to tickle the ears of these men with blades of hay, or to pelt them with sheep dung, or to interview their pockets, according to what seemed feasible. One or two others slipped away anon, but did not go on deck, and presently they returned tittering, vaulted into their bunks, and stretched out. There was quiet for a little while, save for the lowing of the cattle and the everlasting churn and beat of the propeller pulsing underfoot. Then came Rafferty's voice from the distance asking somebody, in the name of Saints and Devils, if he could not tie them up himself. The answer was inaudible, even to those who were wide awake, but Rafferty's voice came again:
"All of them? A lot of them! I'll come and see."
A titter again exploded from a bunk, a whispered "Shut up!" came from another. In plunged Rafferty, wire rope in hand, and roaring: "Tumble up, the lower deck"! Some of the men woke, thinking it was morning.
"Come on, you fellows!" Rafferty said, and they followed him. Mike wakened.
"I just tell you fellows right now," he said, "you can confine your letting loose of the steers in the darkness of the night to your own deck, or there'll be some slaughtering done. Mind! Now when I say a thing I mane it!"
The pacific men of the main deck thought to themselves: "Oh, Lord! There'll be a free fight with all that lower deck crowd." The men who had sleepily and subconsciously followed Rafferty came back presently; two divisions of the steers, they reported, had been loosened and were milling.
"Huh!" said Mike. "A nice night watchman that!" and rolled over.
Jack and Johnnie, after the others were asleep, stole back again, muttering something about "divvy in the morning." The morning came with awful celerity. "Tumble up, you sons of——!" and there was Rafferty in the doorway, wire rope in hand, going from bunk to bunk roaring, and coming down whack on the sleepers. One man sat up and pointed at him before he drew near.
"Now look out, Rafferty!" he warned. "I'm not on your deck. If you touch me I'll have it into you one way or another."
Rafferty glared at him, realised that the man was not on his deck, and passed on. But all were awake now. Scholar, hauling on his clothes, thought to himself: "Now we are going to have an exhibition of discipline at sea!" Then suddenly, in a top bunk amidships, up sat one of the pickpocket-faced youngsters, one of those referred to, in a bunch, as "youse" by Mike. And he piped up: "Call me in another hour, Rafferty, and fetch me me shavin' water."
Rafferty rushed at him, but the skimpy youth slipped to the deck on the far side. The boss pursued, and amid cheers and whoops they ran, like boys at tag, round and round the bunks. They grew winded. The pickpocket-faced kid paused, made feints of coming this way that way, and Rafferty, suddenly, abruptly, fled from the cabin.
"Better get out now, you," somebody said to the youngster, but he delayed, uncertain; and as he delayed there, gaining his breath, Rafferty returned with a pitchfork and charged upon him. A man in a lower bunk thrust out his leg, and Rafferty cannoned over it, dropping the pitchfork; but the wire rope was to hand. It fell from his pocket where he had thrust it on arming himself with the sharper weapon, and he grabbed it and scrambling up whirled back to the bunk of the man who had tripped him, and down came the wire rope again and again.
"Eh?" came a sharp voice, exploding in the doorway, and there was Candlass, white and very grim. "Main deck men, tumble up!" he ordered. Behind him was a middle-sized, square man with a pepsin jaw, slightly bent forward, left foot a little in advance of the right, clenched fists almost touching over his midriff. Candlass became aware of him. "That's all right," he said over his shoulder, in an easy tone, and the pugilistic person, who bunked in Candlass's cabin, and who was on board to bring over a dozen stallions penned amidships near the galley, turned away. The main deck crowd filed out, Mike delaying to watch them go, like a sergeant in command.
"You go ahead then," said Candlass to him. "I'll be after you presently."
Rafferty had his man down still, out of the bunk, on the floor—not the kid who had set the trouble going, but the man who had tripped the Mad Boss up. They were fighting for possession of the wire rope, grappling each other's throats, and it; but at last Rafferty gave up his hold upon the rope. Candlass, motionless, kept an eye upon those who seemed to be drawing on their boots with purpose. Several of the lower deck men thought it safer to go forward than to wait and see the finish here. They began to file out, past Candlass, who let them go, eyeing each carefully, and then glancing back at the bout in progress on the floor. Suddenly his hand shot out and he grabbed the throat of one passing him, instinct telling him that this thin and evil-faced young man was in too great haste. Rafferty rose then, commented: "That will keep you thoughtful for a day or two!" and spun round looking for the originator of this trouble.
"Where's that——" he began. "Oh, that's all right, Candlass; I want to see him. Get out, the rest of ye."
"Don't go!" shrieked the youth.
"Get a move on, you fellows," said Candlass. "Shake a leg lively out of that door."
Johnnie looked at Jack; Jack went white. He arranged his scarf.
"Don't go, you fellers!" screamed the youngster that Candlass had now relaxed grip upon; he tried to plunge out of the door, but the boss of the main deck had planted himself in the entrance, hands on hips, and an elbow touched either side.
"What are you going to do with him?" said Jack, and there was a slight thickness in his voice, and he canted back his head a little more than usual. His shorter partner struck an attitude much like that adopted by William a few minutes ago, he who had charge of the stallions, when he thought Candlass might require assistance.
"Eh?" snapped Rafferty. He made a movement like one in a weird dance, whirling on his heel, advancing to the door, and he sent the youth who wanted his shaving water off his feet like a skittle well hit, sent him flying the breadth of the cabin, rushed after him, and as he was clutching a bunk stanchion to save a fall, flung his arms round him, bear-hugged him, flung him again, as Jack and Johnnie ran forward, not wholly certain what to do—flung him clear through the door, by the side of which Candlass stood. There was a sound that indicated that the insolent youth's head had hit something hard out there.
"Guess that will do," said Candlass.
Jack and Johnnie, and the dazed man who had tripped Rafferty up, and one or two others who had not yet left, moved toward the door. Those in the lead showed an impulse to pass the Mad Boss with a slight parody of a seaman's roll that might have been taken for insolence. But before they came to where Candlass stood they changed their gait, all save Jack—but his gait was generally swaggering, and even he looked strained as he went out. They passed through the door with a lowering of their heads, somewhat as many people go into church. In the passage outside the perky one, blubbering, rose and shuffled forward with them.