Tramping on Life Part 26

"Wait till I get on sh.o.r.e ... this little shanghaiing party of the captain's will cost him a lot of hard money," he said, in a low voice, to me,--standing idly by, his hands in his pockets, while I was bending over the bra.s.s on the bridge railing, polishing away.

"But they've nearly killed you, Franz ... will it be worth it?"

"All I can say is I wish they'd use me rougher."

"You know, Franz, I'm not a bit sorry for you now ... I was at first."

"That so?... I don't need anybody to be sorry for me. In a week or so, when I have won my suit against the captain through the Sailors' Aid Society, I'll be rolling in money ... then you can be sorry for the captain."

Sydney Harbour ... the air alive with sunlight and white flutterings of sea gulls a-wing ... alive with pleasure boats that leaned here and yon on white sails.

Now that we were safe in harbour, I hesitated whether to run away or continue with the ship. For I had signed on to complete the voyage, via Iqueque, on the West Coast of South America, to Hamburg ... I hesitated, I say, because, on shipboard, you're at least sure of food and a place to sleep....

Karl and I had been set to work at giving the cabin a thorough overhauling. We fooled away much of our time looking into the captain's collections of erotic pictures and photographs ... and his obscene books in every language.

And we discovered under the sofa-seat that was built against the side, a great quant.i.ty of French syrups and soda waters. So we spent quite a little of our time in mixing temperance drinks for ourselves.

Cautiously I spoke to the cook about what Karl and I were doing. For he knew, of course, that I knew of his marauding ... and of the mates' and sailmaker's ... so it was safe to tell him.

"You'd better be careful," the cook admonished me.

"But what could Captain Schantze want with so many bottles of syrup and soda water aboard?"

"The English custom's officer who comes aboard here is an old friend of Schantze's, and a teetotaler ... so the captain always treats him to soda water."

"But Karl and I have drunk it all up already," I confessed slowly.

"You'll both catch a good hiding then when he calls for it and finds there is none."

The next day the customs man came aboard.

"Have a drink, Mr. Wollaston?" Schantze asked him.

"Yes, but nothing strong," for probably the tenth occasion came the answer.

Then offhandedly, the captain--as if he had not, perhaps, said the same thing for ten previous voyages: "I have some fine French soda water and syrup in my private locker, perhaps you'd like some of that, Mr.

Wollaston?"

Mr. Wollaston, whose face and nose was so ruddy and pimply anyone would take him for a toper, answers: "Yes, a little of that Won't do any harm, Captain!"

"Karl!--Johann!" We had been listening, frightened, to the colloquy. We came out, trembling.

"Look under the cushions in my cabin ... bring out some of the syrup and soda water you find there."

"Very well, sir!"

We both hurried in ... stood facing each other, too scared to laugh at the situation. The captain had a heavy hand--and carried a heavy cane when he went ash.o.r.e. He had the cane with him now.

After a long time: "You tell him there is none," whispered Karl.

"Well, what's wrong in there?" cried Schantze impatiently.

"We can't find a single bottle, sir!" I repeated, louder.

"What? Come out here! Speak louder! What did you say?"

"We can't find a single bottle, sir!" I murmured, almost inaudibly.

Then Karl, stammering, reinforced me with, "There are a lot of empty bottles here, sir!"

"What does this mean? Every voyage for years I have had soda and French syrup in my locker for Mr. Wollaston."

"Oh, don't mind me," deprecated the little customs man, at the same time as furious as his host.

Karl had already began to blubber in antic.i.p.ation of the whipping due.

The captain laid his heavy cane on everywhere. The boy fell at his feet, bawling louder, less from fear than from the knowledge that his abjectness would please the captain's vanity and induce him to let up sooner.

"Now _you_ come here!" Schantze beckoned me.

He raised the cane at me. But, to my own surprise, something brave and strange entered into me. I would not be humiliated before a countryman of my mother's, that was what it was!

I looked the captain straight in the eye.

"Sir, I did not do it, and I won't be whipped!"

"Wha-at!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Schantze, astonished at my novel behaviour.

"I didn't touch the syrup." Karl looked at me, astonished and incredulous at my audacity, through his tear-stained face.

The captain stepped back from me.

I must be telling the truth to be behaving so differently.

"Get to your bunk then!" he commanded.

I obeyed.

"Who is he?" ... I heard the little customs man ask the skipper; "he doesn't talk like an Englishman."

"He isn't. He just a d.a.m.n-fool Yankee boy I picked up in New York."

They had rounded Franz up and locked him away. The captain was determined to frustrate his little scheme for reimburs.e.m.e.nt, which he had by this time guessed.