While Gerald went down the harbour, Owen landed, taking with him Dan and Pompey. The purchase of the guns was an easy matter, as there were plenty to be had, taken out of prizes. He chose two long brass guns, 9-pounders, and two short ones of heavier calibre. The stores were quickly ordered, too; but to procure the men was more difficult. It would be hopeless to expect to get them at all, were he particular as to how he got them or what class of men he got. Still, if he could have his choice, he would take a smaller number of good men rather than his complement of inferior hands. There were, of course, crimps who would be ready to supply him, and he was compelled to apply to one of these personages, who promised to send him on board six or eight hands before next morning. In the mean time Pompey met two old shipmates, blacks like himself, for whom he could answer; and Dan fortunately found a countryman of his own, also a trusty fellow. With these three hands Owen returned to the ship, and the following day the guns and stores were received on board, the former mounted on their carriages and the latter stowed away. Sufficient hands only were wanting to enable him to sail. His friend, the crimp, was as good as his word; which was not surprising, considering that he was to be well paid for it. Towards evening a boat came alongside with the crimp and six men, two of whom only were sitting upright, while the rest were lying along the thwarts. Jonas Jobson, the crimp, a big-boned mulatto, dressed in a broad-brimmed hat, nankeen trousers, and a white jacket, dispensing with a shirt or other clothing, came up the side.
“Dere dey are, cappen,” he said, “prime seamen when dey come to demself, and only just a little drunkee now. Dese two will answer for dem. Here, you come up, Sam Tar, and you, Jack Noddin.”
The two men summoned managed to get up the side, though it was very evident that they were half-seas over. Still they answered for themselves in a tolerably satisfactory manner, and assured the captain that they knew the others, who were as good seamen as ever stepped—only, when they could get a drop of liquor, they would. “There’s no denying of it,” said Sam Tar, “and so do I—only I knows when to stop, and they don’t;” and Sam gave a lurch against Mr Jobson, which called forth an angry rebuke from that gentleman. Owen was not, as may be supposed, altogether satisfied, however. The men were hoisted on board and laid on the deck. Except for their breathing, they might have been so many corpses, so utterly helpless were they.
“You’ve brought me a pretty lot,” said Owen; “they’re not likely to come to till I get to sea, and then it’s more than probable, to my mind, that they’ll not be worth their salt. You should have brought off sober men, that I might have judged of them.”
“Ah, cappen, you berry hard on me. How could I keep the men sober? And berry likely if I did dey not come ’tall,” answered Mr Jobson, with wonderful effrontery. “You werry ’tickler; oder cappens take any dey can get—drunkee or no drunkee, dese men prime hands when dey come to demself.”
Still Owen was firm in refusing to take the drunken men, even though Tar and Noddin muttered that if their mates did not join, neither would they; whereat Mr Jobson began to fear that he should have his labour for nothing, and calling for a bucket, filled it alongside and dashed it over the inanimate forms placed on deck. At first the shower-bath produced not the slightest effect, but after several buckets had been thrown over the men, one of them began to move and to stretch out his arms as if swimming; then another grunted, and desired with sundry unsavoury epithets to be left alone; while a third actually sat upright, and looked stupidly about him. The fourth, however, remained motionless as at first, when Mr Jobson threw another bucket of water over him. At last one of the mates lifted the man’s arm; the moment he let go it fell to the deck. He then felt the hand.
“Why, Mr Jobson, you’ve brought us off a dead man!” he exclaimed. “He is as cold as ice already.”
Mr Jobson stooping down, having convinced himself of the fact, coolly observed, “Why, he alive yesterday when he come to my house.”
“Yes, and you allowed him to drink himself to death,” said Owen. “You’ll take him on shore with you, for he couldn’t have died on board this vessel.”
Mr Jobson demurred. “Why for dat?” he exclaimed. “You take him to sea and throw him oberboard; it save much trouble, and I no charge you for him.”