“Ess, mister. She was on the Western Ocean trade then, too.”
“Aye! Lumber out o’ St. John’s to Liverpool.” He lays down the paper. “Mr. McAlnwick, now wait while I tell ye. Ye talk of honesty at sea? I joined that ship in Glasgow, an’ we signed on for the voy’ge, winter North Atlantic. General cargo for St. John’s, Newf’unlan’, with deals to bring back to Liverpool. And, though you may consider me superstitious, not havin’ been long at sea” (Nicholas stands, legs apart, glass in hand, head nodding sagely), “not havin’ been long at sea, I say, ’twas the Second and Fourth engineers who brought us black luck!”
“How, Mr. Honna?”
“This way. Nicholas, sit ye down and listen. I was Mate, as I am here. I went up from London and joined her, an’ the Chief, who’s here now, was thick as thieves with the old man, an’ was courtin’ the youngest daughter, tho’ he never married her—he came to lay down the law to me. There was a spare stateroom for’ard of the alley-way, port side. The door was locked, an’ I wanted it open. Ses he, ‘’Tis locked.’ Ses I, ‘I want it open.’ Ses he, ‘Who are you?’ Ye know his way, Mr. McAlnwick? Ses I, ‘I’m the Mate o’ this ship, an’, by Gawd, if that door isn’t opened smart, ye’re a better man than I am.’ And I took off me coat. ‘Oh,’ ses he, ‘’tis all right, mister, I’ll have it opened.’ Ye see, there was women aboard, an’ the Second and Fourth were responsible.”
“They were inside!” snickers Nicholas, looking at his cigar reminiscently.
“They was, Mr. McAlnwick. ’Twas scandalous—that Chief, too, trapesin’ away out to Scotstoun Hill every evenin’ to play cards an’ shilly-shally, while his juniors had loose females aboard the ship. Well, we put out, made St. John’s in sixteen days, and discharged in a fortn’t. ’Twas there the Second an’ Fourth began again, but they took me in. I came on deck one Saturday afternoon, the old man being ashore, and saw two females, with sealskin muffs and furred spats, lookin’ roun’ the poop an’ liftin’ their skirts over the ropes, for all the world like real ladies. An’ I treated them as such, never thinkin’ what they were, for to me a lady’s a lady, an’ I know how to behave to them. But the Second Mate stopped me as I was showin’ ’em over all, and ses he, ‘D’yer know what she is, Mr. Honna?’ pointin’ to the one with a heliatrope blouse under her jacket.”
There is another snicker from Nicholas, and the Mate goes on:
“I would not believe it, Mr. McAlnwick. I’ve had my weaknesses, I have some now, or I would not be Mate of this ship. But I’ve never insulted my employers by makin’ a—a bloomin’ seraglio o’ the ship, nor have I ever seen it done without bringin’ black luck. Now, wait till I tell ye. The nex’ mornin’, being on deck at seven o’clock, I saw the Second and Fourth racin’ up the dock. Their collars were loose at the back, an’ their waistcoats were all out o’ gear, an’ they’d made hat-bands o’ their ties. Mr. McAlnwick, ye may laugh, but they were a disgrace to the ship!
“Well, we put out o’ St. John, deck-loaded with deals, in a fog, and we stayed in a fog for three days. We were all among the ice, too, an’ that afternoon I came on deck to relieve Mr. Bruce, the Second Mate. The old man had her in an ice-lane, goin’ full speed. Ses I, ‘She’s goin’ fast, sir.’ ‘Oh,’ ses he, ‘she steers better so.’ ‘Ay,’ ses I, ‘but if she hits anything, she will—hit it.’ A minute after, he come up out o’ the fog, an’ ses he, ‘Stop her, Mr. Honna, stop her!’ I’d me hand on the telegraph and me eye on the foc’sle head when she struck—bang! An’ all the canvas caps on the foc’sle ventilators blew up an’ went overboard. We’d hit a cake. The Second Mate ran out of his berth in his shirt-sleeves, and went for’ard, an’ I followed him. There she was, her nose crunched into a low-lyin’ cake not two feet above the waterline. I kept all my spare gear in the fore-peak, an’ the Second Mate went down to—to reconnoitre. ‘’Tis all right, mister,’ ses he. ‘’Tis all right here.’ Ses I, ‘I don’t think, Mr. Bruce, I don’t think!’ An’ when I went down an’ put me foot on those piles of rope an’ bolts of canvas, they went down, all soft, under me. Ye understand? Oh, I knew there was somethin’, rememberin’ those flighty women, an’ the foc’sle bonnets blowin’ off. The water had rushed into the fore-peak, an’ had driven the air up, ye see.