CHAPTER XIII C. B.’s Narrowest Escape
The life now led by C. B. was a most distracting one for him, and stirred his somewhat easy mind to its depths. He gave not one thought to the dark feelings of hatred with which he knew he was regarded by certain of his shipmates in the conscientious discharge of duties. He was much ashore and mixed freely with the Kanakas, who abated no jot of the reverence with which they had first heard of his doings upon closest acquaintance with him. It is pleasant to record that he came and went among them blamelessly. All sorts of gifts were pressed upon him, some of them such as we need not inquire into more particularly, but specially of drink and other forms of hospitality. He readily accepted food when he needed it, but kept his abstinence from intoxicants or tobacco without any effort, because having never known their taste he was not disposed to make a trial of them. Doubtless he was virtuous, but if he had been given to self-analysis he would have said that if it was virtue it was entirely unconscious on his part.
Which gave it its peculiar charm, for few persons are more offensive than the ostentatiously virtuous, who are usually Pharisees of the very worst type. His influence over his men was so great that he could always be depended upon to take a party ashore on a wood and water expedition and get the work done without any trouble, while on the several occasions when the other boat-steerers went on similar errands there was always an aftermath of quarrels and fighting due to liquor. Then when the captain intervened and pointed out the difference between the behaviour of the men who went ashore with C. B. and those whose conduct was under review, the debt of hatred steadily accumulated.
But the work went steadily on until the ship was nearly ready for sea, and the captain gave liberty to the port watch. In it were Pepe and Louis and most of the Portuguese in the fo’c’sle, who, dressed in their best and with money to spend, left the ship early in the morning with leave until twenty-four hours later. C. B. spent a quiet day on board, there being little to do, until just after dark the captain called his boat away, and with C. B. in his usual place was pulled ashore to an evening party. There was the usual little group of loafers at the landing-place, and when the captain, dismissing the boat, ordered C. B. to return for him at eleven o’clock the information spread. Like a wise commander the skipper saw the boat on its way back to the ship before he left the beach, not that he could not trust C. B. to keep his men together, but from sheer force of habit.
Now the gang of Portuguese who were ashore, fired with drink, had waited all day in the hope of catching C. B. when he came ashore, and when they heard of the order given they chuckled hugely, for they felt that if they had luck they could get him out of the way once for all. And they laid their plans carefully to entrap him when he came ashore at eleven and kill him, trusting that under cover of the night none of them would be recognized. C. B., all unconscious of any danger, called away his boat’s crew at eleven, and as he was about to step into the boat himself he was surprised to find Mr. Merritt at his elbow, who said—
“All right, I’m comin’ with you. I’ve took a fancy t’ run ashore.”
C. B. said nothing, although he wondered much whatever Merritt could want ashore at that time of night. However, Merritt was his superior, so he merely said—
“All right, sir, will you steer?”