As I stood there viewing her yacht-like lines and noticing the shark's fin on her bowsprit, I was satisfied that she was in a class by herself.
As he turned to go I said, "Captain, do you need a mate?"
"Are you a mate? If you can get your trunk and bag on board we will sail within an hour."
"But I have neither bag nor trunk. If you want me you will have to take me as I stand."
"Have you a sextant?"
"No, but I can borrow one from the tug boat captain. He never leaves sight of land. I am sure he will rent it to me for this voyage."
"Very well," said he. "Get your sextant, and we will find some way of getting rubber boots and oil skins," and off he strolled up to the Company's office.
Two hours later, with the deck lashings set up, tug boat alongside, everything ready for our voyage, our Captain sang out "Let go forward, starboard your helm, Murphy,"—the tug boat gave a "toot, toot," and we were off for the open sea.
By this time I had a chance to size up the crew. The second mate was a short, thick, heavy-set Dane, seemingly a good sailor. Our cook was a greasy, dirty-looking German and, from what few words I had with him, showed that he was a Socialist. The sailors were Dagoes, Irish, Swedes and Russian Finns.
With the wind freshening as we neared the open sea, the Captain sang out, "Mr. Mate, loose and set the foresail and main jib." With the gaskets off I gave the order to hoist away. I noticed one very large Swede hardly pulling a pound. I say "large"; he stood six feet or more and weighed upwards of two hundred. "What is your name?" said I.