I roused up with a start, not; knowing where I was at first; but it was not long before the fact was made patent to me that I was aboard ship, and a cabin boy as well to boot—a sort of ‘Handy Billy,’ for every one to send on errands and odd jobs—the slave of the cuddy and fo’c’s’le alike!
Before he had imbibed so much rum, and just prior to his going on the poop that time when he startled us all so much in the fo’c’s’le by his hail for Tom Bullover and the rest of the starboard hands to come aft and relieve the port watch, Captain Snaggs, as I afterwards learnt, had spoken to the steward, telling him that he was to take over poor Sam Jedfoot’s duties for awhile, until the men selected a new cook from amongst themselves. Jones was told to commence work in the galley the next evening, with especial injunctions to be up early enough to light the fire under the coppers, so that the crew could have their hot coffee at ‘eight bells,’ when the watches were changed—this indulgence being always allowed now in all decent merchant vessels; for Captain Snaggs, if he did haze and bully the hands under him, took care to get on their weather side by looking after their grub, a point they recollected, it may be remembered, when he appealed to them in reference to his treatment of poor Sam.
Now, Morris Jones did not relish the job; but, as the first-mate had been present when the captain gave his orders, albeit Mr Flinders was rather limp at the time, from the physicking he, like the skipper, had had from the jalap in the stew, the steward knew that he would recollect all about it, even if the rum should have made the captain forget. So, much against his inclination, he turned out of his bunk at daybreak to see to lighting the galley fire; when, whom should he chance to come right up against on his way forward but me, just as I had wriggled myself out of the tarpaulin and sat up on the deck, rubbing my half-opened eyes.
Jones was delighted at the opportunity for ‘passing on’ the obnoxious duty.
“Here, you young swab!” he cried, giving me a kick to waken me up more thoroughly, and then catching hold of me by the scruff of the neck and pulling me up on my feet, “stir your stumps a bit and just you come forrud along o’ me. I’m blessed if I’m going to do cook an’ stooard’s work single-handed, an’ you lazy rascallion a caulkin’ all over the ship! First I finds yer snug down snoozin’ in the cabin, an’ now here, with the sun ready to scorch yer eyes out. Why, yer ought ter be right down ’shamed o’ yerself. I’m blessed if I ever see sich a b’y for coilin’ hisself away an’ caulkin’ all hours of the day and night!”
Jones was fond of hearing himself talk, as well as pleased to have some one he was able to bully in turn as the skipper bullied him; and so, he kept jawing and grumbling away all the while we were getting up to the galley, although that did not take very long—not by any means so long as his tongue was and the stream of words that flowed from it when he had once begun, as if he would really never end!
“Now, you young beggar,” said he, opening the half-door of the cook’s caboose and shoving me inside, “let us see how soon you can light a fire an’ make the water in the coppers boil. I’ll fill ’em for you while you’re putting the sticks in; so heave ahead, an’ I’ll fetch a bucket or two from the scuttle butt!”
He spoke of this as if he were conferring a favour on me, instead of only doing his own work; but I didn’t answer him, going on to make a good fire with some wood and shavings, which Sam used to get from the carpenter and kept handy in the corner of the galley, ready to hand when wanted. I knew by this time, from practical experience, that words on board ship, where cabin boys are concerned at all events, generally lead to ‘more kicks than ha’pence,’ as the saying goes!
Soon, I had a good blaze up, and the steward on his part filling the coppers, they were both shortly at boiling-point; when, going aft to his pantry, Jones fetched out a pound of coffee, which he chucked into the starboard copper, which held about four gallons, and was not quite filled to the brim. He evidently had determined to propitiate the crew at the start by giving them good coffee for once and plenty of it; as there were only eighteen hands in the fo’c’s’le, now that Sam had gone, besides himself and me—leaving out the captain and mates, who belonged to the cabin, and of course did not count in, but who made our total complement in the ship twenty-three souls all told.
Jones, too, dowsed into the copper a tidy lot of molasses, to sweeten the coffee; and so, when it was presently served out promptly at ‘eight bells,’ he won golden opinions in this his first essay at cooking, the men all declaring it prime stuff. I think, though, I ought to have had some of the credit of it, having lighted the fire and seen to everything save chucking in the coffee and molasses, which anybody else could have done quite so well as the steward!