Frank Brown, Sea Apprentice

by Frank Thomas Bullen

He paused a moment, and Frank, his eyes sparkling and his whole frame quivering with delightful excitement, cried, “Oh, Captain Jenkins, I feel it will be the chance of my life! I am so glad to go, I can’t tell you. I would have begged you to let me if you hadn’t said anything about it, but I felt sure you would. I’m immensely thankful to you, sir. Shall I run and pack up, sir?”

The skipper merely nodded, for his heart was full as he noted the eager joy in the dear lad’s face, and saw how whole-hearted he was in the matter. And a fervent hope filled him that nothing would happen to mar or stop so promising a career.

The next couple of hours were tremendously busy ones, for two or three trips had to be made between the ships before all was ready. It was found that she was exceedingly poorly provisioned, but she had plenty of water and spare sails; in fact she was fairly well equipped for any moderate passage, except that her stores of all kinds were poor and scanty. By dint of hard work, however, midday saw all the necessary transhipments made, the chronometer had been compared, and two or three sails, just sufficient to give her steerage-way to the light south-westerly breeze which was just springing up, were bent and set. Then the flag was found and hoisted, dipped three times, and the two ships drew slowly away from each other, one for London and the other for New York. By nightfall, the breeze having increased, they were hull down apart.

And now we must leave the Sealark to pursue her legitimate voyage towards America with her largely reduced crew, and follow Frank’s fortunes in the Woden. The first few hours on board were of furious toil, for, fine though it was, that part of the ocean is proverbially unstable in its weather, and they were liable at any hour to find a gale beginning. So that they all worked their hardest to try and get the running gear in its place and fit for service, and also, a far heavier task, to get sufficient sail bent to take full advantage of the present slant of wind. So hard did they work that when, amid much astonishment, eight bells (midnight) was announced, all hands, though feeling desperately weary, realised gratefully that as the result of their toil the Woden was once more fit and ready to be handled, and that they might safely take a little rest.

So Mr. Jacks, having previously ordered the cook to prepare as good a meal as possible, called his little crew together, numbering five, not counting the man at the wheel and the cook, or seven all told. He then divided them into two watches, taking himself two hands and the cook, and appointing the other three men, two Scotchmen and a Finn, as the starboard watch.

“And now, men,” he said, “Frank here is going to stand the watch, and I want you to remember that although he is young he’s a clever fellow, and fully capable of handling the ship, besides knowing all the navigation necessary. So in spite of his youth I hope you’ll all do your best for him and yourselves, and I feel sure we shall rub along splendidly. The grub isn’t up to much, but we’ll all fare alike and do as well as we can on it. Now you, Bill and Tom, of my watch, go and get some grub as soon as you can, so as to let the watch below go to sleep. I’ll go down and relieve August at the wheel.”

Then turning to Frank he said, “Tell the cook to bring something aft for us as soon as he has given the chaps theirs. You don’t want to waste any time in getting to your bunk. When you’re as old as I am you’ll wonder how people can sleep as they do.”

When at 4 A.M. Frank heard Mr. Jacks’ gruff voice calling him to rise, he sprang up as usual, but his brain was in a tangle of conflicting recollections. But as he dragged on his clothes, one fact began to separate itself from the rest—responsibility. And it was with a novel sense of trepidation and a certain diffidence and distrust of his own powers that he hurried on to the poop, and approaching the captain said, “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr. Brown,” replied the skipper pleasantly, without the slightest suspicion of sarcasm, and Frank felt a glow of satisfied ambition pervade his whole frame. It did more, that simple little salutation, to nerve him for his duty and to dispel his distrust than any long address could have done. But the skipper went on to say, “Now, Frank, don’t be afraid of yourself. I’m not afraid for you. I’ve watched you close ever since our first unfortunate meeting, for a long time trying to find fault with you, and you’ve made me more fond of you than I’ve ever been with a shipmate before. Now I’m going below, tired out, but quite satisfied to leave her to you. And I don’t want you to call me unless you are absolutely obliged to. I can trust you fully. Oh, you might give her a sluice down, easily you know, nothing elaborate, and then if you have any time, see if you can find any topgallant sails in the sail-locker. If you can, get ’em up ready for bending. Course is E.N.E. and the weather’s steady. Good morning.” And away he went below, leaving Frank in charge.

I am not going to attempt any elaborate analysis of Frank’s feelings as he stood there, the autocrat of the quarter-deck. But certainly the paramount sensation was one of perfectly legitimate pride, happy pride in the result of honest endeavour allied to the eager hopefulness of youth that it would be still better further on. And so the time flew rapidly until the cook shouted “Coffee!” and that ever-welcome reviver with its aromatic smell was dispensed, Frank taking the wheel while the man whose trick it was went forward and got his coffee without delay.