It would have been worth a sailor’s life to offer a mirror to me and in all the years I was on board I don’t believe it occurred to any of the men forward. Aft, there was only one looking-glass, a small cracked one used by Father when he shaved in port, and even that he kept carefully hidden from me. My only chance to see myself was in the rain barrels on deck. If you think you can get a good idea of your personal appearance by looking into a rain barrel on a swaying, rolling ship, try it. My face used to ripple back at me like a blurred cabbage. As far as I knew I looked exactly like that image reflected in the rain barrel, so of course I believed Father when he told me I was so ugly that women ashore looking at my face would laugh at me.
Since then Father has confessed he made me think myself hopelessly ugly so that I should never be conceited. He said it was one of his dreams for me that I should be unspoiled and be beautiful inside. But, I did not know that then, and I believed all he said about my personal appearance.
How I used to envy the barmaids and the sweethearts about the docks! To me they seemed so beautiful and the sailors were always so glad to see them. No sailor, save old Stitches, ever seemed really glad to see me. The crew all thought I was a nuisance. Father’s warning was unnecessary. I would not have dared to speak to those beautiful land women.
The day after he so put me on my guard I was sitting on the skylight aft, watching the cargo boom dip down in the hold and bring up a rope-net full of copra and swing it over to the dock where the stevedores dumped it into a big dory. McLean and Axel Oleson were on duty at the mizzen hatch where they bellowed orders to the crew below to get the “barnacles off their sterns and load up the nets quicker.” The men below seemed in no mood to hurry, judging by Oleson’s remarks to them, for he traced their ancestors to dubious origins in English and Scandinavian. It was no novelty to me to hear such talk—it wasn’t even varied enough to keep me interested.
I was beginning to get tired of watching when from my perch on the skylight I saw a pretty woman coming down the dock. She walked slowly as if she wasn’t sure of her destination, but when she drew close enough to the ship to be noticed she became all smiles. She pretended she didn’t see McLean and Axel on deck, but I could tell she did see them by the careful way she avoided looking at them. She came up the gangway, which was just forward of the poop deck and spoke to me.
“Hello, little girl,” she said.
I got all goose flesh, I was so thrilled at being noticed. All thought of Father’s warning vanished.
“Hello,” I answered. “Where the hell are you going? Have you got business on this ship?” I was being very nautical, as it was my one chance to show off my authority.
She was so fluffy and soft-looking, surely she couldn’t hurt me. Now she was staring at me—at my overalls and my bare feet sticking out beneath them.
“You know you’re a bloody pretty kid,” she said. I flushed to the roots of my hair. It was the first time I had ever been paid a compliment. I studied her face closely to see if she was just making fun of me, but she seemed sincere.