When the cargo was loaded Father went ashore to bail his crew out of jail. He found all of them except the second mate willing to come back and ship out. The second mate refused to be bailed, and it put Father in a hole because officers for American ships are difficult to get in a foreign port.
“Why don’t you make Nelson second mate?” I ventured to Father when I heard him grumbling about his bad luck with crews. The idea appealed to him, for he said to the first mate:
“Send Nelson aft to me, Mr. Owens.”
I was delighted. If Nelson was made an officer I would see him every day at the table. We would eat together—oh, the thrill of that thought! To eat with him three times a day for a six months’ voyage! I could be friends with a second mate, according to Father’s code of discipline, but not with a common sailor.
Nelson came into Father’s quarters very much ill at ease.
“Yes sir, Captain. You sent for me, sir?”
“I’m going to ship you out as second mate. If you make good from here to Adelaide, I’ll indorse your license for Officer’s papers. Get your sea bag aft, at once. Your duty begins now,” and Father turned to his bills of lading as the way of dismissing the conversation.
I stood near grinning, I was so happy. I saw Nelson’s face flush bright red. He looked at Father. Then he looked at me and back at Father again. The flush had gone out of his face and his mouth made a straight line.
“I have to refuse, Captain. I don’t want to be a second mate. I’d like my discharge, sir,” Nelson said, almost defensively.
Father turned on him as if he hadn’t heard him rightly.