The end of it was that we got the desired leave—five of us, Frenchy making the sixth—but only for the one night. We were given to understand we must be on board by four bells—six o'clock—next morning ready to turn to.
"And look here, Craft," was the captain's parting injunction—"no monkey tricks, mind. I look to you, as leading seaman, for the good behaviour of the rest. Further, I shall hold you responsible for these men turning up in the morning, or else"—he shook a warning finger at me—"not another hour's liberty this voyage for any of you."
Promising obedience—I would have promised anything just then for a run ashore—we hustled off to prepare ourselves. This did not take long. Throwing aside our coal-grimed dungarees, we each donned white trousers and jackets and broad-brimmed straw hats. With these on we felt equal to the best, happily unconscious of a few small rents, a missing button, or the fact that the virgin whiteness of our "shore togs" was marred by many and various stains.
But what about money? For the moment we had forgotten that. True, the Frenchmen had a month's pay in their pockets, but we had no intention of sponging upon them. Well, then, we would take some clothing, we decided. There were numerous places in Antofagasta where we could trade them. There was old Don Carlos, as he was called, whom we had heard so much about, and his Jew partner Miguel. Perhaps they were not so black as they were painted, and we had been told they would buy anything from a hard-up sailor. For myself, I was the envied possessor of a whole Australian sovereign, so you may guess my bearing was in accordance with my wealth.
"Now, then, all aboard!" sang out one of the Frenchmen. Into the boat we scuttled with our bundles, and, giving way with a will, we soon covered the stretch of water between the ship and jetty and pulled the boat alongside, mooring her head and stern.
Not a hundred yards along the quay, who should we come suddenly upon but Don Carlos and his partner.
"Talk of the old gentleman!" cried someone in the rear. "I shouldn't wonder if the old sharks haven't been watching us all the while. I bet you they know we have something to trade."
"Halloa, boys"—Don Carlos's greeting was hearty enough, as was the hand-shake all round—"going to have a little run round? That's right, amigos; nothing like it. Too much salt water is not good for anybody. What! no money! Well, now, that's too bad. Got something to sell, have you? All right, come along to the store and have a drink with me; then we'll talk business. Come on, now, boys, every one of you. A drink at my expense!"
For a Chilano he spoke excellent English, with a slight American intonation and accent, and had a certain geniality of manner which appealed to the simple minds of the sailors.