Frank Brown, Sea Apprentice

by Frank Thomas Bullen

The eldest boy present piped up, “We’re supposed to be stowing the stores, but, as we don’t know anything about it, we’re not getting on very fast. We heard that the third mate was coming to-day, and then I s’pose we shall be all right.”

Frank laughed, but with a supreme effort, for his heart was very heavy, and said, “Well, I’m supposed to be the third mate, so I’d better start in, I think. But first of all, what’s your names?”

“Mine’s Thompson,” piped up the first speaker.

“Selden me,” chipped up another.

“Fitzgerald,” said a third.

The new-comer, who had not settled yet after his ragging, sullenly mumbled, “My name is Reginald Percy Smith, and I want to complain to the captain.”

There was a short, violent burst of laughter from the other young rascals at this, and Frank, tapping him kindly on the shoulder, said, “All right, Reggie, we’ll see about complaining afterwards. At present what we’ve got to do is to get these cases and bags and barrels stowed away snugly, so that they won’t get adrift when we are at sea. So here goes,” and seizing one of the cases he up-ended it, and worked it into a vacant space which gaped to receive it.

In five minutes the whole of them were labouring energetically under Frank’s direction to get the chaos of packages reduced to something like order. And then the mate came down with words of snarling disparagement of Frank’s ability as a stevedore, made them do most of the work over again, while Frank set his teeth and said nothing. But even the new-comer could see the purposeful malice in the mate’s behaviour, and, although he could not understand it, he dimly resented it, for it reminded him of the bully at school.

Now I do not care to dwell further upon the way in which, during the remaining days of the ship in dock, the mate endeavoured to make life a burden to the young third mate, and succeeded in making him nervous and diffident about his work, anxious as ever to do that work well, but doubtful of his ability. Still I must record one fact that commends itself to me as being the act of a brave man, to say nothing of a youth. In the midst of this sore trial Frank allowed no word of complaint to escape him to his father or the owner. And this he did knowing as well as possible what a voyage was awaiting him. I feel that he was quixotically heroic, but there it is, he made up his mind that he would go through this thing no matter what the cost might be. And out of this grew one good thing. The other lads, three of whom were new and the other four all second voyagers, grew to admire him immensely, some of them to love him, and of course that helped.

Then came sailing day, and with it a crowd of wasters, the dregs of Liverpool, there being a dearth of foremast hands just then, and skippers being glad to take what they could get. Only three out of the twenty appeared to be good sailormen, the rest looked as if a tramp steamer was the only kind of craft they had ever known, and in consequence they were almost as much out of place on board of a ship dependent for her motive power upon the wind as a landsman would be, except for the matter of sickness.