I soon found that, with the careless, happy-go-lucky temperament of the British merchant sailor, all three men were perfectly willing to ship for the voyage—about which they had already heard something from the forecastle hands with whom they had been fraternising—especially when I told them that I had been offered the position of mate and felt strongly disposed to accept it; and accordingly I led them aft there and then, and informed the skipper that we all accepted his offer, and without further ado we went below and signed articles.
When, after signing, we all returned to the deck, and the three English seamen had gone forward, Cunningham came up to me and said, laughingly:
“You will be interested to learn, Temple, that our worthy friend here, Captain Brown, has also offered me a post, which I have accepted. As nearly as I can define it, the position is that of honorary second mate; it carries with it no pay, but in lieu of that I am to be perfectly free to leave the schooner whenever I please, and am to live in the cabin, receive cabin rations, and obtain, free of cost, an entirely new outfit of clothes from the slop chest. What do you think of my bargain?”
“I consider it a very fair one,” said I, “with perhaps a slight advantage in favour of the skipper. For although of course he could doubtless do perfectly well without you, your grub and a new rig-out will not cost him very much; and in return for that he will get—as long as you choose to remain with us—the ability to sleep in all night with a perfectly easy mind: for I can assure the captain,” and I here turned to that individual, who was standing by, intently listening to all that was said, “that although you are not a professional seaman you are quite sailor enough to take care of this schooner during your watch. Also you are a man of intellect and education, well-read, musical, and with an inexhaustible fund of intensely interesting conversation, so that I think Captain Brown will find in you a very agreeable companion.”
“Ay, ay, you’ve just hit it, Temple,” cut in the skipper. “That’s just what I thought when I was listenin’ to you two fellers talkin’ at breakfast-time. Says I to myself: ‘Now, here’s two chaps with the speech and manners of gentlefolks, chaps as can hold their own with anybody when it comes to talkin’, and yet they’re sailors too—at least one of ’em is; and if you, Eph Brown, what have never had no more eddication than what you could pick up, could only persuade them two to jine yer in this here v’yage, you’d have such a chance as you’ve never had before to learn gentlefolks’ manners, to talk proper, and ginerally to comport yourself in such a fashion as’d make your dear old Marthy fit to bust herself with pride to see and hear ye when ye get back home again, ’specially as you hopes to strike it rich this trip.’ So there you are, gents: you can call me Cap’n as often as you likes—it sounds good, and makes me feel as though I was some punkins—but otherwise I’d like you to talk to me and behave to me just as if we was all eq’als; and whenever you hear me makin’ a bad slip up in the matter of language, I’ll take it very kindly of ye if you’ll just pull me up with a round turn and p’int out where I’ve gone wrong.”
It was rather an amusing proposal, certainly, for a shipmaster to make to his officers, but the old fellow was so transparently frank in recognising his shortcomings, and so earnestly anxious to have them remedied, that both Cunningham and I entered quite heartily into the spirit of the thing, and readily undertook to do everything that lay in our power to polish up his manners and speech in readiness for the surprise which he proposed to spring upon his “dear old Marthy” upon his return to Baltimore.