The Shellback's Progress Part 7

"We had no intention of killing them or pillaging their ship, and they had both of these designs on us," said the logical lady, "so that we were justified in saving ourselves by the means which I fear have proved so fatal to them."

The steward was henceforth looked upon with great devotion, so much so that Mrs Macvie induced her husband to include him as one of the legatees in his will.

For many years after this episode the _Boadicea_ continued her trading.

Captain Macvie made a great deal of money and then retired in favour of a younger man who was destined to have a short career as commander, for, on the second voyage from the Brazils, and almost within sight of his own home, his vessel was driven ash.o.r.e by a hurricane and all hands were drowned. A few days later the weather was fine enough to allow fishermen to put to sea, and on rounding a rugged point on the coast some of them heard the piteous howling of a dog. They made towards it, and found it had taken shelter on the arm of a steep cliff. It was taken from its perilous position with great difficulty. A bra.s.s collar bearing the name of the ship and the owner suggested that it was the only survivor of the shipwreck. Poor Curly's body was discovered on the same day on a patch of yellow sand inside a cave. It was taken to a fisherman's hut, and round his neck was found a gold locket with four little portraits. Mr and Mrs Macvie were the idolised of one case, and his own wife and little girl were in the other. His body was put in the ground with reverence. Soon afterwards a cheque for five hundred pounds was received by his widow.

Mr Macvie and his wife lived to a ripe age in a very unpretentious way.

Years later I came across my old commander and owner seated outside a small cottage which faced the sea in a remote part of Northumberland.

The common in front of him was ablaze with shining flowers, and the sweet song of the lark swelled in the air. A sad, pensive look hallowed his comely face, which made me hesitate to interrupt the reverie; but he realized my presence and asked me to share his seat. He began to tell me that his mind was reviving some of his early experiences at sea.

"Ah!" said he, "I was thinking what a terrible end Curly and the old vessel came to. Poor Jake, he was a fine, swaggering fellow; a smart sailor, and as brave as a Turkish Bashi-Bazouk. He was very wayward at times, but always faithful as a mastiff dog to me. His apparent disregard for breaking the Sabbath grieved me, and when I rebuked him for it he frequently took me in a sort of humorous way as though it were a good joke to talk to him of religion. But he had periods of despondency and remorse which brought out visions of spiritual life. He would speak of death coming to take him from his wife and little girl in the most piteous way, and then I had to say to him, 'Do not be so irreverent to your Creator. Think of His imperishable goodness in saving you and me from the abysses that have so often confronted us.

Think of those piratical throat-cutters whom He a.s.sisted us in vanquishing, and remember when G.o.d wants to take you He will take you.'

I often quoted to him these words: 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: He that keepeth thee will not slumber.' I do hope he remembered to say, when the hurricane woke out of the sky and was bearing them to destruction, 'Into Thine hand I commend my spirit: Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord G.o.d of Truth.'"

"I never realized the intensity of your attachment to him, Captain Macvie," I interjected.

"Yes, it was very great," he soliloquised, "and the memory of his long a.s.sociation with me and the perilous life that he led and the horror of the tragic finish has caused my mind to revert to an occasion which nearly ended in the same way. We were caught by a heavy southerly gale when off Candia. I carried sail until she nearly jumped her masts over the side and herself out of water. We were then carrying the double reefed topsails, reefed courses, inner jib, fore and main topmast staysail, but the gale had so increased I gave orders to close-reef the topsails and furl the mainsail. I thought it better to run no further risk of dismasting her, as there was always a chance so long as they were kept standing. All hands were up reefing the main topsail and I had the wheel. I saw the black shadow of the mountains in the darkness towering far above our heads, and we seemed to be amongst the broken water to leeward. Every moment I expected her to strike and send us to our doom. A simple thought of the last words of my mother about Jesus and the sea flashed into my mind. I lashed the wheel for a moment or two, went to the lee side, knelt down, and offered a fervent prayer to Almighty G.o.d. I asked Him, if it was His will to save us, to do it in His own way. I had no sooner taken hold of the wheel again than the sails were caught aback by the wind veering and coming with the force of a hurricane from the opposite direction. It rushed from the mountain tops as from a funnel. I called to the men to come down and turn the yards round smartly. I feared she would not back off quickly and that she might get stern way on and knock the stern in and founder. My voice failed to carry through the vast roar of the tempest, but the men knew as well as I did that a critical moment had come, so they made their way on deck; the yards were quickly trimmed and I ran her dead off the land. We had not run more than eight to ten miles to the south amid a mad conflict of broken sea that twisted and lashed at the vessel, when all of a sudden the old wind came back and the struggle with the opposing legions for mastery kept for a time the vessel in imminent peril. Ultimately the southerly force prevailed, but fortunately it blew itself out in a few hours, and we sailed into fine weather. Never was a vessel so near destruction without being destroyed, and never were human lives so near pa.s.sing from time into eternity. Even the most wayward of my crew attributed our safety to the pity of G.o.d, and they thanked Him with the usual condescension that sailors adopt even towards the Deity; but they never knew that I had addressed the Almighty on their behalf and on my own; and that is really how it comes that I am here to tell the tale."

V

SAILORS' OPINIONS OF NOTABLE PUBLIC MEN

The old-time sailors held strong opinions on law, i.e., sea law. The merits of military and naval notables and prominent politicians came within the limit of their strange discussions. Their naval heroes were Charlie Napier, Collingwood, Nelson and Hardy. They loved Napier best of all because he dared to be kind to his men and fight their battles for them against the authorities; they were never quite sure whether to give the weight of their respect on the side of Collingwood or Nelson; but as the latter came to grief at Trafalgar, he was generally given the benefit of any doubt as to superiority, and his devoted Hardy was regarded as a strong backer of the redoubtable national hero. They never got over the idea that poor Nelson was shot from the maintop by some of his own men and not by the French sharpshooters. It was a point that could never be cleared up to their satisfaction, hence the impression that his sailors must have had some grudge against him was very prevalent. His a.s.sociation with the King and Queen of the two Sicilies was said to have gone a long way towards giving him a swelled head, and in truth it was no mean distinction to be on terms of friendship with a daughter of Maria Theresa and sister to Marie Antoinette. They believed that Nelson had been influenced by the king and queen when in a soft-headed mood to commit an act that can never be obliterated. It was not only cruel and heartless, but it had close resemblance to a crime. "They talk," said they, "of the murder by Napoleon of their duke (Duke d'Enghien), but was it not as bad of Nelson to have Commodore Francisco Caracciolo tried by a court martial composed of the prisoner's enemies (Neapolitan officers) which sat only two hours aboard the _Faudroyant_ and found him guilty of rebellion against his sovereign?" He was ordered by Nelson to be hanged at the fore yardarm of the _Minerva_. The sight of this poor man dangling at the yardarm must have had a revolting impression on the minds of those who witnessed it, and the aversion of the public who merely heard of it must have been equally well founded. No wonder that it was handed down to subsequent generations of seamen, and caused them to say, as I have heard them that, "Nelson should have left the dirty, b.l.o.o.d.y business to his pal the King of the Sicilies and kept his own hands clean." They always spoke of his death as retribution. "If there isn't something in it," said they, superst.i.tiously, "why was Collingwood and Hardy not hit?"

His relationship with Lady Hamilton was vigorously defended; both voluble and comic reasons were poured forth in support of his action.

"Had she not on more than one occasion saved the fleet, and had she not rendered great service to the British Government by her clever tongue and alluring beauty, to say nothing of a supreme genius for intrigue?"

They believed that she had sacrificed everything to serve her country, and now that Nelson had smashed the combined fleets of Spain and France, and lost his life through it, this precious government had no further need for her services, so threw her helpless on a callous, canting world. They built a monument for him, and left his poor Emma, whom he regarded in the light of a good spirit, to starve, though he had begged that she should be provided for. That was the view the sailors took of it. They believed that Nelson's infatuation for the lady was his affair and hers, and n.o.body else's; but be that as it may, there were very few seamen in the merchant service who did not warmly sympathize with this poor, wretched, woman's fate. Nelson was often made responsible for that which he might have nothing to do with, and sailors have not spared him for his supposed share in inst.i.tuting that monstrous system of pressing honest, respectable men into a service that reeked with the odour of disgraceful bureaucratic cruelty. I know something of the legacy of prejudice which extended to bitter, vindictive recollection of these days of brainless despots. I was reared amid an eighteenth-century environment; both my grandfathers fought at the Battle of the Nile; both were taken by force from their vessels which were owned by themselves and their relatives. One of them rose to the position of sailing-master; the other was a junior officer; but such was the condition of this kidnapping service they could not hope to rise higher. Both these men's lives were broken, as hundreds of others' were. Was it any wonder that strong feelings of wrong were handed down and indiscriminately fastened on to whosoever held any prominent authority? That is why Nelson came in for his share of condemnation. Personally, I think he was credited with more than he deserved. I believe he thought so well of that branch of the service, and his patriotism was so strong, that he wondered why there was any necessity to inst.i.tute press-gangs. I should imagine that he was often amazed that men did not join in droves. But had he gone to the right source for information he would soon have become disillusioned. These gangs of ruffians preferred seamen as their prey, but they did not discriminate very much. If they could not get a sailor they took whatever came to hand--the bigger the better. And so, while on one of their prowling expeditions, it came to pa.s.s that a gentleman called Willie Carr was seized, and at the point of the bayonet or musket made to embark aboard their boat. This person was a ship's blacksmith. His strength was abnormal, and his feats of swimming were a marvel. He was known to fame as the Hartley giant. Tradition has it that they put Willie in the bow of the boat, and after they had got a little way on their journey he asked them if they could all swim. This question excited great laughter; but the giant coolly placed his hands on each of the gunwales of the boat, set his knees in position, called out, "then sink or swim, you B----," and with one mighty wrench he severed both sides of planking from the stem. Willie swam ash.o.r.e, and how many of the men were said to be drowned I do not remember, though I have given the main facts as I heard them scores of times in my boyhood days. This story is told by Mr Soulsby in his excellent little history of Blyth.

Their military champions were: the great Emperor of the French ("Bonny"

as they familiarly called him). Next came "the martyr" Ney, and then Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and the Prussian General, Blucher. The relative merits of these great men were discussed sometimes with foaming partiality. Napoleon and Ney were their favourites. Their wrath against the allied Powers was unappeasable. How often have I heard them thunder out that Bonny would have wiped Wellington and his myrmidons off the field but for the treachery of Fouche, Talleyrand, and his own generals (Fouche in particular).

Wellington's prayer for "night or Blucher" was always used in mitigation of what might be called an unpatriotic opinion. I have listened to the diatribes of these rugged critics who claimed for their hero that he imbued his soldiers with a high sense of honour in contrast to our barbarous disciplinary methods of flogging. The image of the great man, and the part Wellington played in having him banished to St Helena, never faded from their memories. They believed the Iron Duke to be the instigator and encourager of a shabby trick. It was a wonderful phenomenon that made these men talk so systematically of their magical enemy, and yet they never lost an opportunity of showing their national dislike for and superiority over the French people as a whole. So strong was this instinct that it permeated British crews from the captain to the cabin-boy. Of course there were at times violent differences of opinion, but as a rule the Emperor was singularly popular, and the aversion to his former subjects, especially civilians, was never disguised. They showed frequent hostility towards coal-heavers, dockers, sailors, fishermen, and sundry other grades of workmen with whom they came in contact, but that is not to say they were always successful in their attacks, though they invariably took the initiative. In the old days the average British tar could not solve the mystery as to what foreigners, and especially Frenchmen, were made for; even at the present time they put on a lordly air when they come in contact with people whom they regard as aliens. This att.i.tude is adopted independent of all reason, and becomes quite infectious. I must have caught it early in life. I went to a French port on my first voyage to sea, and although I was a mere child of twelve and a half years, I became smitten with the forecastle belief that my country and countrymen had suffered irreparable mischief at the hands of the French nation. I therefore deemed it my duty to be avenged, so picked out a French youth apparently my senior by some years, reminded him of Trafalgar and Waterloo, and called him by the opprobrious name of Johnny c.r.a.po, the meaning of which I did not understand. I was promptly made to run for my life before a sudden Napoleonic onslaught of about half-a-dozen small boys, who had congregated to see their friend demolish the avowed foe of their country.

In discussing the many phases of Napoleon, the sailor was never perplexed in coming to conclusions as to the right and wrong of his (Napoleon's) actions. Their quotations and manner of using them were at times amazingly tempestuous and erratic. Captain Maitland, of the _Bellerophon_, was generally believed to have behaved with becoming generosity towards the dethroned monarch, but the question as to whether he gave himself up voluntarily and without reservation, or, as Napoleon maintained, that he was prevailed upon to become the guest of England, and put himself under the protection of her laws, was a point that occasioned great diversity of opinion, and I think it may be said that Maitland's version in the majority of cases was thought to be correct. Admiral Sir George c.o.c.kburn came in for a good deal of harsh criticism for complaining about the Emperor rising from the table as soon as coffee had been served, and the well-known reminder of Madame Bertrand was quoted in a form that almost put the original beyond recognition, and had it been correct would have justified the admiral in putting the lady into solitary confinement for the remainder of the pa.s.sage, for using language to him that was not only coa.r.s.e and impolite, but unwarrantably seditious. Instead of this, Madame Bertrand merely remarked with all the charm of a cultured courtier: "Do not forget, admiral, that your guest is a man who has governed a large portion of the world, and that kings once contended for the honour of being admitted to his table." They had some misty notion that that admiral was not always considerate to his guest, and disliked his attentions to the officers and crew of the _Northumberland_, not one of which it is said could resist the magical influence of his actions and words. It was natural that the salient incidents of a voyage with such a man should be pa.s.sed on and handed down to later generations of seamen.

The story of the pa.s.sage of the line was an everlasting theme retailed in order to justify the goodness of Napoleon. The boatswain represents Neptune and becomes sovereign for a time. Neither rank nor position is exempt from the customary shaving and baptism, but on this occasion Neptune graciously respected the distinction of the exiles, and reminded them that they had too often received the baptism of fire and of glory to require additional attention from him. The Emperor consented to have Neptune presented to him, and gave him through the grand marshal five hundred napoleons in order that he and his court might drink his health. Well might this generous gift bring forth wild hurrahs and loud cries of "Long live the Emperor Napoleon." The amount by common consent was handed over to the captain to be distributed when the crew were discharged, but this did not prevent Neptune and a number of his subjects intoxicating themselves, and it was only through the interposition of the Emperor and his suite with the admiral that they were saved from being cruelly flogged. "They may talk about this man as they like," said one of the crew, "but I won't believe the bad they say of him." His popularity with the sailors of the _Northumberland_ was not created by merely seeing him sitting for hours day by day on the gun which was named "The Emperor's." He became their hero now as pa.s.sionately as he had previously appeared to them as being the foe of all that was humane. His little attentions and kindnesses, accompanied by an irresistible smile, and the act of putting them through some form of drill, endeared him to them long before they reached his lonely rock. Then the story of Sir Hudson Lowe's treatment of him in so many petty ways, such for instance as seizing a small bust of his son, the King of Rome, which had been sent to the exiled monarch, made friends for the Emperor in thousands; and not the least of them were the brave fellows who had traversed the ocean with him, and whose souls were filled with sympathy and horror at the crime that was being committed.

Their testimony was that no one could live in close contact with him without instinctively realizing that he was a much maligned person. No wonder that this impression was spread widely not only through the whole navy but also throughout the whole mercantile marine. What a blunder the whole savage, senseless business was!

But while the British sailors claimed the little corporal as their idol, they did not think that even for political reasons the Emperor had any right to divorce Josephine, though they thought he might have reasons other than those commonly understood to have been engineered by the arch-traitor Fouche, and ultimately agreed to by the Emperor. The Empress, when she was plain Josephine, had the reputation of carrying on violent flirtations with other gentlemen while her husband was in Italy, and subsequently, when he was in Egypt swiftly forging his way to fame and to his destiny. So that when Napoleon was accused of cruelty in putting her from him, there were ever some champions ready to palliate the act by putting her unfaithful conduct before their opponents. But the Emperor's divorce of the little Creole was never quite approved by his sailor admirers, more especially as they had a strong dislike to Marie Louise, the Austrian arch-d.u.c.h.ess who took the place of the poor, wayward Josephine, and who forsook her imperial husband in the first hour of his adversity to become the mistress of an ugly Austrian count, named Neipperg, who was minus an eye. Subsequently this man entered into a morganatic marriage with the gentle Marie, and she bore to him several children who were declared to be legitimate, and this happened notwithstanding the fact that the Emperor her husband was still living in anguish under a tyranny and cruel despotism inst.i.tuted by the British oligarchy. This was the kind of anecdote that filled the sailors with sympathy for the great man who in the decline of his days was at the mercy of a lot of little men. Then they had stories of how he could throw off the thought of his wretched position, and enter into a frolic with Betsy Balcombe and her sister at the Briars. He would play for hours with the two little girls, and also with the other children that became attached to him. The smattering knowledge and comic rawness of the discourses on this great personality were always intensely attractive. Faith in the accuracy of their own views was strong. Long before I was old enough to be allowed to take part in the forecastle Napoleonic discussions I used to listen to them with eager interest, and well remember the attention given to even a wrongly-informed orator. The subject was always made fascinating by serving up the tales in their own forecastle fashion. None of the other military notables of Napoleon's time claimed their admiration or devotion as he did; not even Wellington.

Their views on politics and politicians, and their mode of expressing them, were extremely queer. The prominent statesmen they talked of most were Fox, Pitt, Lord John Russell, Palmerston, Peel, Gladstone and Disraeli; and apart from the fault they had to find with the latter as a statesman, they believed him to be unwilling to legislate in their interests, though even they didn't appear to have the ghost of an idea as to how those interests were to be legislatively served. They knew there was something the matter, that was all. They also had a strong antipathy to Disraeli owing to his Hebrew origin. In fact, they regarded the great Jew in the light of a foreigner, whose intrusion into English politics was a humiliation to all British-born subjects.

The confusion of opinions as to the character and duties devolving on members of Parliament was very embarra.s.sing even to themselves, and the vivacity with which they delivered orations to each other on the merits or demerits of members was exquisitely droll. The rivalry between Fox and Pitt was a subject that involved them in vehement chaos, just as the rivalry between Disraeli and Gladstone did in later years. They had some mystified idea that those political gentlemen were ever thirsting for each others' blood. They had gathered from some gossipy source that Mr Fox was a hopeless gambler, and that Pitt was exclusively responsible for the Napoleonic wars, and that Palmerston was a mischief-maker who set his impudence up to everybody, and his rashness either ended in war or coming near to do so. It was the latter that was accused in forecastle circles of bringing on that Crimean War which caused so much suffering and loss of life both to sailors and soldiers.

I have heard Sir Robert Peel spoken of in words of vituperation for having introduced "peelers," now known as "bobbies," to interfere, as they said, with poor people's rights. Many of them were full of wrath at his having repealed the Corn Laws. They had got some garbled notion, which was pa.s.sed down to later generations, that it would tend to spoil their chances of getting employment and otherwise lower their wages.

This doctrine had been well thumped into them by some agency or other, and it led to many a quarrel with the minority who held free trade views. They were opposed to the introduction of Board of Trade examinations for the purpose of obtaining certificates of competency, which is another evidence of their undeveloped sense. And I have actually known instances where exception was taken by common sailors to the close scrutiny of Board of Trade surveyors into the defects of a vessel they had long sailed in and had formed a strong regard for. The Reform Bill did not appeal to them in the same way as it did to other workmen. They had occasional opportunities of hearing that a great noise was going on about household suffrage and the extension of the franchise, but they had a very hazy conception of the meaning of the terms. It is no exaggeration to say that the former was often spoken of as having reference to the sufferings of somebody in the houses of the people, and the latter was talked of as having some French connection!

They adhered to the idea of the nation being governed by the upper cla.s.ses, and yet they used to curse them with unrestrained fury for their indifference to the needs of the common people. Gladstone was very frequently in disfavour with them: for instance, they did not altogether approve of the abolition of purchase in the army. It was considered a gratuitous interference with a person's freewill. "Why,"

said they, "shouldn't a commission be purchased if a man wants to spend his money in that way? It was no business of his!" Besides, their fears were excited lest the army should become composed of low-bred wasters.

Their views on these particular questions were always very paradoxical and very breezily expressed. How I used to listen and gape at the flow of what I deemed gifted intelligence when there was a heated discussion on. I did not understand it; indeed they did not understand it; but they talked with a volubility and a.s.surance that made deep impressions on me and on them. The advent of Thomas Burt from the mine into the political arena was not welcomed with a gush of enthusiasm by seamen.

They doubted the wisdom of a republican miner being allowed to enter a legislature composed of aristocracy and landed gentry! The idea seemed to have gripped their minds that this refined and gentle little man was destined to inflict severe punishment on dukes, marquises and earls, and in other ways disturb the British nation! Mr Burt was not long in Parliament before he showed marked indications of wise statesmanship.

Men on both sides of the House soon learnt to respect and admire him.

He made it clear that he was not a mere cla.s.s representative, and during the whole time he has been in Parliament the sailors have had no truer friend than he. I think they have long been satisfied of this themselves.

These st.u.r.dy, commonplace fellows, taking them as a whole, knew no more about politics than Tom Brown's horse; but, like many other simple, ill-informed people, they had a calm belief in their unmeasured knowledge which was void of all reason, and when they were thrown into contact with sh.o.r.e people it was one of the funniest things in the world to witness the lordly air they a.s.sumed in the initial stages of acquaintanceship, and the humour of it was exhilarating when the period for evaporation came, and they shone forth in all their artless simplicity. I cannot pretend to portray or exactly reproduce the scene of a sailor's political or any other controversy for that matter; I can only hope to convey some idea of it; and the rest must be left to the imagination of the reader.

Some twenty years ago a group of sailing-ship masters was seated at a table under a verandah outside a Russian snap-shop. There were two of the old school amongst them, and these were being egged on to a debate by the younger men on a question that was creating a vast amount of interest at that time. The heir to the Tichborne estates had left home to travel abroad, and as nothing was heard of him for several years, his mother became anxious and began advertising very widely in the Colonial, English, and Continental press. The result of this was that a person calling himself Sir Roger Tichborne turned up. He paid a visit to Wapping, and then presented himself to Lady Tichborne, who was in bed. She flung her arms around his neck in an ecstasy of joy and claimed him as her long-lost son. The real Roger Tichborne was supposed to have been lost in a vessel called the _Bella_, which had sailed from Rio in South America for Australia. A claim was made on the Tichborne baronetcy. The claimant's counsel, Dr Keneally, who did not get on very well with the judges, commenced a paper called the _Englishman_, which gave full accounts of the trial. It was widely read by enthusiasts who believed that Dr Keneally's client was the real Sir Roger. It was this trial that the coterie of commanders had gathered together to discuss. One of them, Captain Rush, was a staunch believer in the claimant. He had just received the paper, and was brim-full of the convincing proofs that it contained. Another fine old salt, who had neither education nor manners, endeavoured to take an intelligent interest in the discussion. His name was Mark Grips. Both he and Captain Rush belonged to the old school, and both were Northumbrians who spoke the dialect without any attempt at moderation.

"Ah," grunted Captain Rush, almost jumping off his seat with delight; "Keneally has Hawkins there!"

"Where?" said Mark.

"Why, here," replied Rush.

"Nothing but d.a.m.ned nonsense," said Mark.

"Nothing but nonsense? What? What? What d'ye say?" screamed Rush. "D'ye mean to tell me that Keneally doesn't know what he's talkin' about?"

"No; you divent knaw what yo're talkin' about."

"What? I divent knaw what I'm talkin' about? I tell ye' what it is, sor, Roger's the man!"

"Beggared a one," said Mark. (It wasn't exactly "beggared" a one that he said, but that is near enough.)

"D'ye mean to tell me," said Captain Rush (as he frothed with wrath), "that a man doesn't know the a.s.s's Bridge when he's asked about it?"

"Beggared a one," said Mark.

"Then you're a leir."

"A leir, d'ye say? Then I say beggared a one!"

"Another thing: d'ye mean to tell me, Mark, that a mother doesn't know her own son?"

"Beggared a one," replied Mark.

"D'ye say that again?" said Rush; "I tell you, when a woman puts her arms around her son's neck, d'ye think she doesn't know it's her son?"

Mark by this time is also frothing at the mouth; and, standing in a bellicose att.i.tude, hisses:

"I says 'beggared a one.' Roger's not the man!"

Rush becomes speechless, and his eyes flash with anger, and he flings the _Englishman_ at Mark, who in turn calls his friend, "Coward; that's the only argument you have. I tell you again, Roger's _not_ the man!"

"Who are you?" retorted Rush; "do you think yourself the Lord High Admiral Dundas, then?"

"No," said the excited Mark; "I'm Mark Grips, one of Jimmy Young's skippers, and I tell ye Roger never was the man!"