THE AUTHOR, MR. A. E. CRAFT.
From a Photograph.
Amongst our sailors was a Frenchman, and he, being one of our boat's crew, had made the acquaintance of his countrymen on board the other ship in his various trips, it being the custom of the captains then in port to call upon each other and all to go ashore in the one boat. Thus they benefited by having the full complement of their crew on board to work cargo—which they had to do in those days, except on the occasion when their particular boat had to act as ferry.
We had been there something like eight or ten days when part of the crew of the French ship got the usual twenty-four hours' liberty in which to go ashore and enjoy themselves.
Liberty day! The one bright day in the weary monotony of a long sailing-ship voyage—the one day in which, with a month's pay in his pocket, Jack is as good as his master, when he may eat what he likes, drink what he likes, do what he likes, so long as he turns up when the boatswain musters the hands to work after the all-too-short holiday.
So, with the jingling coins burning holes in their pockets, and their hearts as light as school-boys', they pushed off from their ship. And we, knowing where they were going, stared moodily across the bay, longing to be with them.
A diversion occurred, however, when we saw the boat's head swing in our direction, and a few minutes later range alongside our ship.
Up to our deck climbed the merry Frenchmen, laughing and jabbering like so many monkeys. Soon they were in animated conversation with our messmate, "Frenchy," whom we presently discovered, by adroit questioning, they were persuading to obtain leave from our captain and go with them.
And he got it, too—minus the month's pay—and immediately set about rigging himself out in his shore clothes. This did not suit us at all—at least, some of us. Why should he have leave of absence, and we not? we asked each other. We would go and ask the captain, too.