Mother Carey's Chicken Part 4

"He's a bit waxy to-day. Just going outer dock into the river, and there's a lot o' work to be done."

"But I thought my father was captain of this ship?" said Mark.

"So he is, youngster, but old Greg does what he likes when the skipper aren't aboard. Oh, here is the skipper!"

"Ah! Mark, my lad, here you are then. So you've brought the dog?"

"Yes, father, and--"

"Where's Mr Gregory?"

"Over yonder, sir," said Billy Widgeon. "Pst!" he whispered to Mark, "say somewhat about the dog."

"Do you want him to stay then?" said Mark.

"Stop! Sartin I do. Why, theer'll be him and old Jack, and they'll have no end of a game aboard when theer's a calm. There, the skipper's gone to old Greg, and you aren't said a word."

"But I will," said Mark. "Who is Jack?"

"Who is Jack! Why, I thought every one knowed who Jack is. Our big monkey. He's tucked up somewhere 'cause it's cold. You wait till the sun's out."

"Well, Captain Strong, I object to dogs and cats on board ship."

"They are no worse than monkeys."

"A deal, sir, and I object to them."

"Nonsense, Gregory!" said Captain Strong persuasively. "The boy's only going as far as Penzance, and he loves his dog."

"Can't help that, sir. Dogs are no addition to a crew."

"Not a bit, Gregory. Neither are monkeys; but, to oblige me--"

"Oh very well, captain, if it's to oblige you, I have no more to say, and the dog can stop."

"Hear that, youngster?" said Billy.

It was plainly audible to half the deck; and as Mark nodded his head he fell a-wondering how it was that his father, who was captain, could allow his inferior officer to be so dictatorial and to bully every one about him.

"It's all right," said Billy Widgeon, with a confidential wink and a smile; "he's going to let him stop."

This was another puzzle for Mark, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Look here--where are you going to stow him?" continued the little sailor, speaking of the dog as if he were a box or bale.

"Keep him with me," replied the lad.

"But you'll want a place for him somewheres. You come along o' me and I'll find you one in the forksle."

After a momentary hesitation Mark accepted the offer, and the sailor pointed out a suitable corner, according to his ideas.

"He'll be pretty close to my berth, and I can give an eye to him."

The offer was friendly, and Bruff seemed disposed to accept the sailor's advances to some extent, suffering himself to be patted and his ears pulled; but when the friendliness took the form of a pull at his tail he began to make thunder somewhere in his chest, and turned so sharply round that by an involuntary action Billy. Widgeon popped his hands in his pockets.

All the same when Bruff was told to lie down in there he flatly refused, and followed his master aft once more, the little sailor having run before them in answer to the mate's shout; and Mark saw him directly afterward hauling away at a rope with some more so as to raise the main-yard, which was not quite to the mate's satisfaction.

"What a disagreeable brute!" thought Mark as the mate seemed to spend his time in shouting here, finding fault there, and everywhere making himself disagreeable, while the captain looked on once or twice and then got out of the way as fast as he could, and appeared to be generally of no account whatever.

CHAPTER FOUR.

HOW THERE WAS AN UNWELCOME Pa.s.sENGER.

"Here, Mark, my boy," said the captain; "come here and I'll show you your cabin."

The lad was standing watching half a dozen men who were reefing a square sail high up on the mainmast, and the process gave him a peculiar sensation of moisture in the hands and chill in the back, for the men were standing upon a rope looped beneath the yard, and apparently holding on by resting the top b.u.t.ton of their trousers upon this horizontal spar, their hands being fully occupied with hauling in and folding up the new stiff canvas of the sail.

"I say, father," he said, "isn't that dangerous?"

"What, my lad?"

"The work those men are doing."

"What, up aloft? H'm, yes, no! They're so used to it that it has ceased to be dangerous, my boy. Use is second nature. It would be dangerous for you or me."

Mark followed, and the captain showed him his cabin.

"You're a lucky one," he said. "There's a place all to yourself. Are you going to stay aboard?"

"Yes, father. I've sent my bag, and mother is going to meet me here this evening."

"That's right. Now I must be off to see the owners. Keep out of the way as well as you can. I suppose you will find plenty to amuse yourself."

Mark said, "Oh, yes!" but he felt as if there was going to be very little that was amusing; and as he saw his father go toward the gangway and speak to the first-mate, who seemed to reply with a surly nod, the office of captain seemed of less account than ever.

The scene was not inspiriting. It was a dull, cold, cheerless afternoon in May; the deck was one chaos of bales, packages, and boxes. Ropes were lying about as if there was no such thing as order on board a ship.

Forward there was a pile of rusty chain, and if the new-comer stirred a step he was sure to be in somebody's way; and when, in response to a hoa.r.s.e "by yer leave," he moved somewhere else, it was to find himself in a worse position still.

Bruff quite shared his feelings, and showed it by shivering from time to time, and, after getting behind Mark, trying to drive his head between his master's legs, an attempt that was always met by a rebuff, for Mark had not yet gained his sea-legs and taken to walking with his feet very wide apart.

But all the same there was a deal to notice, and by degrees the lad grew interested as he wondered how it was possible for the yawning hatch in the middle of the deck to swallow up such an endless number of crates and boxes, bales and packages, of all kinds. While what seemed more astonishing was the fact, that as fast as the cargo disappeared more was brought aboard from the quay, where it was unloaded from vans and carts.

"Here, hi! young Strong!" cried the mate suddenly. "Come here."

Mark walked up to him hastily as he stood near the gangway, talking to a custom-house officer.