The Tale of Timber Town Part 14

"An' a corkscrew?"

"It's here."

"Then we've just what the doctor ordered: not this doctor--make no mistake o' that. An' them sons o' sea cooks, forrard there, haven't yet found a duplicate key to my locker. Wonderful! wonderful!"

The crew grinned, and put their backs into every stroke, for they knew "the old man" meant that they shouldn't go dry.

"I'm the Pilot o' this here port, eh?"

"Most certainly," said the doctor.

"An' Harbour Master, in a manner o' speaking?"

"That's so."

"And captain o' this here boat?"

They were hugging the sh.o.r.e of the island, where the strength of the incoming tide began to be felt in the narrow tortuous channel. The bluff old Pilot put the steering-oar to port, and brought his boat round to starboard, in order to keep her out of the strongest part of the current.

"Now, lads, shake her up!" he shouted.

The men strained every nerve, and the boat was forced slowly against the tide. With another sudden movement of the steering-oar Summerhayes brought the boat into an eddy under the island, and she shot forward.

"Very well," he said; "it's acknowledged that I'm all that--Pilot, Harbour Master, and skipper o' this boat. Then let me tell you that I'm ship's doctor as well, and in that capacity, since we're outside and there's easy going now under sail, I prescribe a good stiff gla.s.s all round, as a preventive against plague, Yellow Jack, small-pox, or whatever disease it is they've got on yonder barque."

Sartoris uncorked a bottle, and handed a gla.s.s to the doctor.

"And a very good prescription, too," said the tall, thin medico, who had a colourless complexion and eyes that glittered like black beads; "but where's the water?"

"Who drinks on my boat," growled the Pilot, "drinks his liquor neat. I drown no man and no rum with water. If a man must needs spoil his liquor, let him bring his own water: there's none in my locker."

The doctor took the old seaman's medicine, but not without a wry face; Sartoris followed suit, and then the Pilot. The boat was now under sail, and the crew laid in their oars and "spliced the main brace."

"That's the only medicine we favour in this boat or in this service,"

said the Pilot, as he returned the key of the locker to his pocket, "an'

we've never yet found it to fail. Before encount'ring plague, or after encount'ring dirty weather, a gla.s.s all round: at other times the locker is kept securely fastened, and I keep the key." Saying which, he b.u.t.toned the flap of his pocket, and fixed his eyes on the strange barque, to which they were now drawing near.

It could be seen that she was a long time "out"; her sails, not yet all furled, were old and weather-worn; her sides badly needed paint; and as she rose and fell with the swell, she showed barnacles and "gra.s.s" below the water-line. At her mizzen-peak flew the American ensign, and at the fore-truck the ominous quarantine flag.

As the boat pa.s.sed under the stern, the name of the vessel could be seen--"_Fred P. Lincoln_, New York"--and a sickly brown man looked over the side. Soon he was joined by more men, brown and yellow, who jabbered like monkeys, but did nothing.

"Seems they've got a menag'ry aboard," commented Sartoris.

Presently a white face appeared at the side.

"Where's the captain?" asked the Health Officer.

"With the mate, who's dying."

"Then who are you?"

"Cap'n's servant."

"But where's the other mate?"

"He died a week ago."

"What's wrong on board?"

"Don't know, sir. Ten men are dead, and three are sick."

"Where are you from?"

"Canton."

"Canton? Have you got plague aboard?"

"Not bubonic. The men go off quiet and gradual, after being sick a long time. I guess you'd better come aboard, and see for yourself."

The ladder was put over the side, and soon the doctor had clambered on board.

The men in the boat sat quiet and full of contemplation.

"This is a good time for a smoke," said the Pilot, filling his pipe and pa.s.sing his tobacco tin forrard. "And I think, Sartoris, all hands 'd be none the worse for another dose o' my medicine." Again his capacious hand went into his more capacious pocket, and the key of the locker was handed to Sartoris.

"Some foolish people are teetotal," continued Summerhayes, "and would make a man believe as how every blessed drop o' grog he drinks shortens his life by a day or a week, as the case may be. But give me a gla.s.s o'

liquor an' rob me of a month, rather than the plagues o' China strike me dead to-morrer. Some folks have no more sense than barn-door fowls."

A yellow man, more loquacious than his fellows, had attracted the attention of Sartoris.

"Heh! John. What's the name of your skipper?"

The Chinaman's reply was unintelligible. "I can make nothing of him,"

said Sartoris. But, just at that moment, the man who had described himself as the captain's servant reappeared at the side of the ship.

"My man," said Summerhayes, "who's your captain?"

"Cap'n Starbruck."

"Starbruck!" exclaimed Sartoris. "I know him." In a moment he was half-way up the ladder.

"Hi! Sartoris," roared the Pilot. "If you go aboard that vessel, you'll stay there till she's got a clean bill o' health."

"I'm going to help my old shipmate," answered Sartoris from the top of the ladder. "Turn and turn about, I says. He stood by me in the West Indies, when I had Yellow Jack; and I stand by him now." As he spoke his foot was on the main-rail. He jumped into the waist of the quarantined barque, and was lost to sight.

"Whew!" said the Pilot to the vessel's side. "Here's a man just saved from shipwreck, and he must plunge into a fever-den in order to be happy. I wash my hands of such foolishness. Let 'im go, let 'im go."

The thin, neat doctor appeared, standing on the main-rail. He handed his bag to one of the boat's crew, and slowly descended the ladder.