"Who'd ever expect to get the 'flu' on board, anyway," he asked, as though it were my fault. "I've got all the medicines I need for the usual ailments and brandy will cure most of the sicknesses that occur on this ship. I'll give you all the brandy, rum, and gin there is, and then you go to it!"
He was panic-stricken and practically told me I was to take command of his ship, except that he would take care of the navigation and discipline. I told him the first thing I wanted was assistants, and asked him to summon all the passengers to the saloon. When they were assembled, I got up and told them what it was all about.
"These poor devils of Javanese are dying like rats in a hole," I said, "and I want volunteers to help me save them. There isn't much we can do, and every time you go among them you stand a chance of catching the 'flu.' They may not be good Christians, but they are certainly our fellow men and it is our duty to help them! I want volunteers and want them now. Who will join my life-saving crew?"
Instantly the lady to whom I had given my cabin and my Canadian friend volunteered. The others followed one by one, with the prominent exception of the missionaries. I was astounded that they were not among the first, and turned to them.
"What's the matter?" I asked, by that time annoyed at their holding back. "Don't you want to practice a little practical Christianity? Are none of you going to give us a hand in this fight?"
They did not deign to answer. Instead, they looked at their leader, a tall gentleman with lean jowls, and he calmly turned and left the saloon. They trooped after him, and then our captain exploded.
"Of all the yellow dogs!" he exclaimed. "So that's the sort of people they send out as missionaries! I'd like to throw them all overboard! Why, they'll hoodoo my ship! I was brought up to believe a parson put a curse on a ship, and now I know it's so!"
Well, we pitched in and laid out our fight. It was a seemingly hopeless job. These Javanese did not appear to want to help themselves. Their only idea was to die, if they were called, and there was never a peep out of any of them.
Men died and were sent to the sharks, leaving their women mute in their agony; wives and mothers died, and their men never turned a hair; children died in their mother's arms and were cast into the sea without the least outward sign.
I mention the sharks, but even now I hate to think of them. They loafed along beside the ship, their great bodies slipping easily through the water, with now and then the flash of a white belly as they turned to meet the falling body. The Javanese were dying at a rate of between fifteen and twenty a day, and we soon ran out of weights for their bodies. The sharks increased in number until it seemed as though word had been sent out that there was a "death ship" on the sea. Before long they were fighting for the bodies. I watched one such conflict, but one was quite enough.