“Sure there is slave trading today,” said Father grudgingly. “It’s called blackbirdin’ in the South Seas. Some sea captains on sailin’ ships take cargoes of natives and ‘contract’ them for a pound apiece for five years to the planters in Northern Australia. When the natives have been worked almost to death the planters pay the sea captains to take the natives back to the islands they stole them from. Instead of takin’ them back to their own islands, the captains dump their loads of blacks on the first handy island that lies in their course. That’s why now you hardly ever see a pure breed of native in any tribe—the blackbirders have mixed them up.”
“Astonishing!” was the comment of the learned questioners. “Astonishing!” Mother didn’t tell Father to sssh! They didn’t dare openly dispute Father so they turned back on me. First they asked about storms at sea, adventures on our voyages—then they disbelieved them. The professor of economics was the worst.
“You are a very interesting study, little girl.” He rose from the table leaving me feeling like a germ under a microscope. I could see that navigating wasn’t going to be so easy with those landlubbers.
That night I slept for the first time in my life in a regular bed. The sheets felt so tickly and cool and the mattress was soft, but I couldn’t sleep. The house was so still and it didn’t rock! The stillness made me feel seasick. I couldn’t hear the noise of feet on deck above me. My bird and cats were in the hold, or rather what is called on shore, the cellar of the house. And so I lay awake most of the night pitching and tossing and wishing the house would just rock a little bit so I could go to sleep.
The following morning I was up at daybreak. I dressed quickly and ran through the house calling:
“All hands on deck. It’s four bells!”
Father came out of his room and caught me by the back of the neck.
“Pipe down, you. There’s folks asleep,” he said. It was time to eat breakfast according to ship schedule. The boarders were awakened by my cries. Mother served them their breakfast as soon as she could prepare it. When she called breakfast I dashed to the table and grabbed the biggest portion of scrambled eggs and a stack of pancakes and began scoffing them.
“Where are your manners?” It was Mother speaking as she took my self-helping away from me.
“I got here first,” I protested, “and it’s first come first get!” But Mother just couldn’t understand.