Isaacs, who had just cut away the raft, was a short, thick-set man, with a dark, expressionless face. He went forward without saying a word, and introduced Jarwin to the men as a “new ’and.”
“And a green un, I s’pose; give us your flipper, lad,” said one of the crew, holding out his hand.
Jarwin shook it, took off his cap and sat down, while his new friends began, as they expressed it, to pump him. Having no objection to be pumped, he had soon related the whole of his recent history. In the course of the narrative he discovered that his new associates were an unusually rough set. Their language was interspersed with frightful oaths, and their references to the captain showed that his power over them was certainly not founded on goodwill or affection. Jarwin also discovered that the freeness of his communication was not reciprocated by his new mates, for when he made inquiries as to the nature of the trade in which they were engaged, some of the men merely replied with uproarious laughter, chaff, or curses, while others made jocular allusions to sandal-wood trading, slaving, etcetera.
“I shouldn’t wonder now,” said one, “if you was to think we was pirates.”
Jarwin smiled as he replied, “Well, I don’t exactly think that, but I’m bound for to say the schooner has got such a rakish look that it wouldn’t seem unnatural like if you were to hoist a black flag at the peak. An’ you’ll excuse me, shipmets, if I say that yer lingo ain’t just so polished as it might be.”
“And pray who are you, that comes here to lecture us about our lingo?” cried one of the men fiercely, starting up and confronting Jarwin with clenched fists.
“Why, mate,” replied Jarwin, quietly folding back the cuffs of his coat, and putting himself in an attitude of defence, “I ain’t nobody in partikler, not the Lord Chancellor o’ England, anyhow still less the Archbishop of Canterbury. I’m only plain Jack Jarwin, seaman, but if you or any other man thinks—”
“Come, come,” cried one of the men in a tone of authority, starting forward and thrusting Jarwin’s assailant violently aside, “none o’ that sort o’ thing here. Keep your fists for the niggers, Bill, we’re all brothers here, you know; an affectionate family, so to speak!”
There was a general laugh at this. Bill retired sulkily, and Jarwin sat down to a plate of hot “lob-scouse,” which proved to be very good, and of which he stood much in need.
For several days our hero was left very much to himself. The schooner sped on her voyage with a fair wind, and the men were employed in light work, or idled about the deck. No one interfered with Jarwin, but at the same time no one became communicative. The captain was a very silent man, and it was evident that the crew stood much in awe of him. Of course Jarwin’s suspicions as to the nature of the craft were increased by all this, and from some remarks which he overheard two or three days after his coming on board, he felt convinced that he had fallen into bad company. Before a week had passed, this became so evident that he made up his mind to leave the vessel at the very first opportunity.