“I’ve done it,” she cried, her eyes sparkling.
“Done what?” shouted the mystified skipper.
“Let the bear loose,” said the girl. “Ha, ha! you should have seen them run. You should have seen the fat sailor!”
“Let the—phew—let the— Good heavens! here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” he choked.
“Listen to them shouting,” cried the exultant Kate, clapping her hands. “Just listen.”
“Those shouts are from aloft,” said Hezekiah sternly, “where you and I ought to be.”
“I’ve closed the companion,” said the girl reassuringly.
“Closed the companion!” repeated Hezekiah, as he drew his knife. “He can smash it like cardboard, if the fit takes him. Go in here.”
He opened the door of his state-room.
“Shan’t!” said Miss Rumbolt politely.
“Go in at once!” cried the skipper. “Quick with you.”
“Sha—” began Miss Rumbolt again. Then she caught his eye, and went in like a lamb. “You come too,” she said prettily.
“I’ve got to look after my ship and my men,” said the skipper. “I suppose you thought the ship would steer itself, didn’t you?”
“Mutineers deserve to be eaten,” whimpered Miss Rumbolt piously, somewhat taken aback by the skipper’s demeanour.
Hezekiah looked at her.
“They’re not mutineers, Kate,” he said quietly. “It was just a piece of mad folly of mine. They’re as honest a set of old sea dogs as ever breathed, and I only hope they are all safe up aloft. I’m going to lock you in; but don’t be frightened, it shan’t hurt you.”
He slammed the door on her protests, and locked it, and, slipping the key of the cage in his pocket, took a firm grip of his knife, and, running up the steps, gained the deck. Then his breath came more freely, for the mate, who was standing a little way up the fore rigging, after tempting the bear with his foot, had succeeded in dropping a noose over its head. The brute made a furious attempt to extricate itself, but the men hurried down with other lines, and in a short space of time the bear presented much the same appearance as the lion in Aesop’s Fables, and was dragged and pushed, a heated and indignant mass of fur, back to its cage.
Having locked up one prisoner the skipper went below and released the other, who passed quickly from a somewhat hysterical condition to one of such haughty disdain that the captain was thoroughly cowed, and stood humbly aside to let her pass.
The fat seaman was standing in front of the cage as she reached it, and regarding the bear with much satisfaction until Kate sidled up to him, and begged him, as a personal favour, to go in the cage and undo it.
“Undo it! Why he’d kill me!” gasped the fat seaman, aghast at such simplicity.
“I don’t think he would,” said his tormenter, with a bewitching smile; “and I’ll wear a lock of your hair all my life if you do. But you’d better give it to me before you go in.”
“I ain’t going in,” said the fat sailor shortly.
“Not for me?” queried Kate archly.
“Not for fifty like you,” replied the old man firmly. “He nearly had me when he was loose. I can’t think how he got out.”
“Why, I let him out,” said Miss Rumbolt airily. “Just for a little run. How would you like to be shut up all day?”
The sailor was just going to tell her with more fluency than politeness when he was interrupted. “That’ll do,” said the skipper, who had come behind them. “Go for’ard, you. There’s been enough of this fooling; the lady thought you had taken the ship. Thompson, I’ll take the helm; there’s a little wind coming. Stand by there.”
He walked aft and relieved the steersman, awkwardly conscious that the men were becoming more and more interested in the situation, and also that Kate could hear some of their remarks. As he pondered over the subject, and tried to think of a way out of it, the cause of all the trouble came and stood by him.
“Did my father know of this?” she inquired.
“I don’t know that he did exactly,” said the skipper uneasily. “I just told him not to expect you back that night.”
“And what did he say?” said she.
“Said he wouldn’t sit up,” said the skipper, grinning, despite himself.
Kate drew a breath the length of which boded no good to her parent, and looked over the side.
“I was afraid of that traveller chap from Ipswich,” said Hezekiah, after a pause. “Your father told me he was hanging round you again, so I thought I—well, I was a blamed fool anyway.”
“See how ridiculous you have made me look before all these men,” said the girl angrily.
“They’ve been with me for years,” said Hezekiah apologetically, “and the mate said it was a magnificent idea. He quite raved about it, he did. I wouldn’t have done it with some crews, but we’ve had some dirty times together, and they’ve stood by me well. But of course that’s nothing to do with you. It’s been an adventure I’m very sorry for, very.”
“A pretty safe adventure for YOU,” said the girl scornfully. “YOU didn’t risk much. Look here, I like brave men. If you go in the cage and undo that bear, I’ll marry you. That’s what I call an adventure.”
“Smith,” called the skipper quietly, “come and take the helm a bit.”
The seaman obeyed, and Lewis, accompanied by the girl, walked forward.
At the bear’s cage he stopped, and, fumbling in his pocket for the key, steadily regarded the brute as it lay gnashing its teeth, and trying in vain to bite the ropes which bound it.
“You’re afraid,” said the girl tauntingly; “you’re quite white.”
The captain made no reply, but eyed her so steadily that her gaze fell. He drew the key from his pocket and inserted it in the huge lock, and was just turning it, when a soft arm was drawn through his, and a soft voice murmured sweetly in his ear, “Never mind about the old bear.”
And he did not mind.
THE COOK OF THE “GANNET”
All ready for sea, and no cook,” said the mate of the schooner Gannet, gloomily. “What’s become of all the cooks I can’t think.”
“They most on ‘em ship as mates now,” said the skipper, grinning. “But you needn’t worry about that; I’ve got one coming aboard to-night. I’m trying a new experiment, George.”
“I once knew a chemist who tried one,” said George, “an’ it blew him out of the winder; but I never heard o’ shipmasters trying ‘em.”
“There’s all kinds of experiments,” rejoined the other, “What do you say to a lady cook, George?”
“A WHAT?” asked the mate in tones of strong amazement. “What, aboard a schooner?”
“Why not?” inquired the skipper warmly; “why not? There’s plenty of ‘em ashore—why not aboard ship?”
“‘Tain’t proper, for one thing,” said the mate virtuously.
“I shouldn’t have expected you to have thought o’ that,” said the other unkindly. “Besides, they have stewardesses on big ships, an’ what’s the difference? She’s a sort o’ relation o’ mine, too—cousin o’ my wife’s, a widder woman, and a good sensible age, an’ as the doctor told her to take a sea voyage for the benefit of her ‘elth, she’s coming with me for six months as cook. She’ll take her meals with us; but, o’ course, the men are not to know of the relationship.”
“What about sleeping accommodation?” inquired the mate, with the air of a man putting a poser.
“I’ve thought o’ that,” replied the other; “it’s all arranged.”
The mate, with an uncompromising air, waited for information.
“She—she’s to have your berth, George,” continued the skipper, without looking at him. “You can have that nice, large, airy locker.”
“One what the biscuit and onions kep’ in?” inquired George.
The skipper nodded.
“I think, if it’s all the same to you,” said the mate, with laboured politeness, “I’ll wait till the butter keg’s empty, and crowd into that.”
“It’s no use your making yourself unpleasant about it,” said the skipper, “not a bit. The arrangements are made now, and here she comes.”
Following his gaze, the mate looked up as a stout, comely-looking woman of middle age came along the jetty, followed by the watchman staggering under a box of enormous proportions.
“Jim!” cried the lady.
“Halloa!” cried the skipper, starting uneasily at the title. “We’ve been expecting you for some time.”
“There’s a row on with the cabman,” said the lady calmly. “This silly old man”—the watchman snorted fiercely—“let the box go through the window getting it off the top, and the cabman wants ME to pay. He’s out there using language, and he keeps calling me grandma—I want you to have him locked up.”
“Come down below now,” said the skipper; “we’ll see about the cab. Mrs. Blossom—my mate. George, go and send that cab away.”
Mrs. Blossom, briefly acknowledging the introduction, followed the skipper to the cabin, while the mate, growling under his breath, went out to enter into a verbal contest in which he was from the first hopelessly overmatched.
The new cook, being somewhat fatigued with her journey, withdrew at an early hour, and the sun was well up when she appeared on deck next morning. The wharves and warehouses of the night before had disappeared, and the schooner, under a fine spread of canvas, was just passing Tilbury.
“There’s one thing I must put a stop to,” said the skipper, as he and the mate, after an admirably-cooked breakfast, stood together talking. “The men seem to be hanging round that galley too much.”
“What can you expect?” demanded the mate. “They’ve all got their Sunday clothes on too, pretty dears.”
“Hi, you Bill!” cried the skipper. “What are you doing there?”
“Lending cook a hand with the saucepans, sir,” said Bill, an oakum-bearded man of sixty.
“There ain’t no call for ‘im to come ‘ere at all, sir,” shouted another seaman, putting his head out of the galley. “Me an’ cook’s lifting ‘em beautiful.”
“Come out, both of you, or I’ll start you with a rope!” roared the irritated commander.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Mrs. Blossom. “They’re not doing any harm.”
“I can’t have ‘em there,” said the skipper gruffly. “They’ve got other things to do.”
“I must have some assistance with that boiler and the saucepans,” said Mrs. Blossom decidedly, “so don’t you interfere with what don’t concern you, Jimmy.”
“That’s mutiny,” whispered the horrified mate. “Sheer, rank mutiny.”
“She don’t know no better,” whispered the other back. “Cook, you mustn’t talk like that to the cap’n—what me and the mate tell you you must do. You don’t understand yet, but it’ll come easier by-and-bye.”
“WILL it,” demanded Mrs. Blossom loudly; “WILL it? I don’t think it will. How dare you talk to me like that, Jim Harris? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
“My name’s Cap’n Harris,” said the skipper stiffly.
“Well, CAPTAIN Harris,” said Mrs. Blossom scornfully; “and what’ll happen if I don’t do as you and that other shamefaced-looking man tell me?”
“We hope it won’t come to that,” said Harris, with quiet dignity, as he paused at the companion. “But the mate’s in charge just now, and I warn you he’s a very severe man. Don’t stand no nonsense, George.”
With these brave words the skipper disappeared below, and the mate, after one glance at the dauntless and imposing attitude of Mrs. Blossom, walked to the side and became engrossed in a passing steamer. A hum of wondering admiration arose from the crew, and the cook, thoroughly satisfied with her victory, returned to the scene of her labours.
For the next twenty-four hours Mrs. Blossom reigned supreme, and performed the cooking for the vessel, assisted by five ministering seamen. The weather was fine, and the wind light, and the two officers were at their wits’ end to find jobs for the men.
“Why don’t you put your foot down,” grumbled the mate, as a burst of happy laughter came from the direction of the galley. “The idea of men laughing like that aboard ship; they’re carrying on just as though we wasn’t here.”
“Will you stand by me?” demanded the skipper, pale but determined.
“Of course I will,” said the other indignantly.
“Now, my lads,” said Harris, stepping forward, “I can’t have you chaps hanging round the galley all day; you’re getting in cook’s way and hindering her. Just get your knives out; I’ll have the masts scraped.”
“You just stay where you are,” said Mrs. Blossom. “When they’re in my way, I’ll soon let ‘em know.”
“Did you hear what I said?” thundered the skipper, as the men hesitated.
“Aye, aye, sir,” muttered the crew, moving off.
“How dare you interfere with me?” said Mrs. Blossom hotly, as she realised the defeat. “Ever since I’ve been on this ship you’ve been trying to aggravate me. I wonder the men don’t hit you, you nasty, ginger-whiskered little man.”
“Go on with your work,” said the skipper, fondly stroking the maligned whiskers.
“Don’t you talk to me, Jim Harris,” said Mrs. Blossom, quivering with wrath. “Don’t you give ME none of your airs. WHO BORROWED FIVE POUNDS FROM MY POOR DEAD HUSBAND JUST BEFORE HE DIED, AND NEVER PAID IT BACK?”
“Go on with your work,” repeated the skipper, with pale lips.
“WHOSE UNCLE BENJAMIN HAD THREE WEEKS?” demanded Mrs. Blossom darkly. “WHOSE UNCLE JOSEPH HAD TO GO ABROAD WITHOUT STOPPING TO PACK UP?”
The skipper made no reply, but the anxiety of the crew to have these vital problems solved was so manifest that he turned his back on the virago and went towards the mate, who at that moment dipped hurriedly to escape a wet dish-clout. The two men regarded each other, pale with anxiety.
“Now, you just move off,” said Mrs. Blossom, shaking another clout at them. “I won’t have you hanging about my galley. Keep to your own end of the ship.”
The skipper drew himself up haughtily, but the effect was somewhat marred by one eye, which dwelt persistently on the clout, and after a short inward struggle he moved off, accompanied by the mate. Wellington himself would have been nonplussed by a wet cloth in the hands of a fearless woman.
“She’ll just have to have her own way till we get to Llanelly,” said the indignant skipper, “and then I’ll send her home by train and ship another cook. I knew she’d got a temper, but I didn’t know it was like this. She’s the last woman that sets foot on my ship—that’s all she’s done for her sex.”
In happy ignorance of her impending doom Mrs. Blossom went blithely about her duties, assisted by a crew whose admiration for her increased by leaps and bounds; and the only thing which ventured to interfere with her was a stiff Atlantic roll, which they encountered upon rounding the Land’s End.
The first intimation Mrs. Blossom had of it was the falling of small utensils in the galley. After she had picked them up and replaced them several times, she went out to investigate, and discovered that the schooner was dipping her bows to big green waves, and rolling, with much straining and creaking, from side to side. A fine spray, which broke over the bows and flew over the vessel, drove her back into the galley, which had suddenly developed an unaccountable stuffiness; but, though the crew to a man advised her to lie down and have a cup of tea, she repelled them with scorn, and with pale face and compressed lips stuck to her post.
Two days later they made fast to the quay at Llanelly, and half-an-hour later the skipper called the mate down to the cabin, and, handing him some money, told him to pay the cook off and ship another. The mate declined.
“You obey orders,” said the skipper fiercely, “else you an’ me’ll quarrel.”
“I’ve got a wife an’ family,” urged the mate.
“Pooh!” said the skipper. “Rubbish!”
“And uncles,” added the mate rebelliously.
“Very good,” said the skipper, glaring. “We’ll ship the other cook first and let him settle it. After all, I don’t see why we should fight his battles for him.”
The mate, being agreeable, went off at once; and when Mrs. Blossom, after a little shopping ashore, returned to the Gannet she found the galley in the possession of one of the fattest cooks that ever broke ship’s biscuit.
“Hullo!” said she, realising the situation at a glance, “what are you doing here?”
“Cooking,” said the other gruffly. Then, catching sight of his questioner, he smiled amorously and winked at her.
“Don’t you wink at me,” said Mrs. Blossom wrathfully. “Come out of that galley.”
“There’s room for both,” said the new cook persuasively. “Come in an’ put your ‘ed on my shoulder.”
Utterly unprepared for this mode of attack, Mrs. Blossom lost her nerve, and, instead of storming the galley, as she had fully intended, drew back and retired to the cabin, where she found a short note from the skipper, enclosing her pay, and requesting her to take the train home. After reading this she went ashore again, returning presently with a big bundle, which she placed on the cabin table in front of Harris and the mate, who had just begun tea.
“I’m not going home by train,” said she, opening the bundle, which contained a spirit kettle and provisions. “I’m going back with you; but I am not going to be beholden to you for anything—I ‘m going to board myself.”
After this declaration she made herself tea and sat down. The meal proceeded in silence, though occasionally she astonished her companions by little mysterious laughs, which caused them slight uneasiness. As she made no hostile demonstration, however, they became reassured, and congratulated themselves upon the success of their manoeuvre.
“How long shall we be getting back to London, do you think?” inquired Mrs. Blossom at last.
“We shall probably sail Tuesday night, and it may be anything from six days upwards,” answered the skipper. “If this wind holds it’ll probably be upwards.”
To his great concern Mrs. Blossom put her handkerchief over her face, and, shaking with suppressed laughter, rose from the table and left the cabin.
The couple left eyed each other wonderingly.
“Did I say anything pertickler funny, George?” inquired the skipper, after some deliberation.
“Didn’t strike me so,” said the mate carelessly; “I expect she’s thought o’ something else to say about your family. She wouldn’t be so good-tempered as all that for nothing. I feel cur’ous to know what it is.”
“If you paid more attention to your own business,” said the skipper, his choler rising, “you’d get on better. A mate who was a good seaman wouldn’t ha’ let a cook go on like this—it’s not discipline.”
He went off in dudgeon, and a coolness sprang up between them, which lasted until the bustle of starting in the small hours of Wednesday morning.
Once under way the day passed uneventfully, the schooner crawling sluggishly down the coast of Wales, and, when the skipper turned in that night, it was with the pleasant conviction that Mrs. Blossom had shot her last bolt, and, like a sensible woman, was going to accept her defeat. From this pleasing idea he was aroused suddenly by the watch stamping heavily on the deck overhead.
“What’s up?” cried the skipper, darting up the companion-ladder, jostled by the mate.
“I dunno,” said Bill, who was at the wheel, shakily. “Mrs. Blossom come up on deck a little while ago, and since then there’s been three or four heavy splashes.”
“She can’t have gone overboard,” said the skipper, in tones to which he manfully strove to impart a semblance of anxiety. “No, here she is. Anything wrong, Mrs. Blossom?”
“Not so far as I’m concerned,” replied the lady, passing him and going below.
“You’ve been dreaming, Bill,” said the skipper sharply.
“I ain’t,” said Bill stoutly. “I tell you I heard splashes. It’s my belief she coaxed the cook up on deck, and then shoved him overboard. A woman could do anything with a man like that cook.”
“I’ll soon see,” said the mate, and walking forward he put his head down the fore-scuttle and yelled for the cook.
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered a voice sleepily, while the other men started up in their bunks. “Do you want me?”
“Bill thinks somebody has gone overboard,” said the mate. “Are you all here?”
In answer to this the mystified men turned out all standing, and came on deck yawning and rubbing their eyes, while the mate explained the situation. Before he had finished the cook suddenly darted off to the galley, and the next moment the forlorn cry of a bereaved soul broke on their startled ears.
“What is it?” cried the mate.
“Come here!” shouted the cook, “look at this!”
He struck a match and held it aloft in his shaking fingers, and the men, who were worked up to a great pitch of excitement and expected to see something ghastly, after staring hard for some time in vain, profanely requested him to be more explicit.
“She’s thrown all the saucepans and things overboard,” said the cook with desperate calmness. “This lid of a tea kettle is all that’s left for me to do the cooking in.”
The Gannet, manned by seven famine-stricken misogynists, reached London six days later, the skipper obstinately refusing to put in at an intermediate port to replenish his stock of hardware. The most he would consent to do was to try and borrow from a passing vessel, but the unseemly behaviour of the master of a brig, who lost two hours owing to their efforts to obtain a saucepan of him, utterly discouraged any further attempts in that direction, and they settled down to a diet of biscuits and water, and salt beef scorched on the stove.
Mrs. Blossom, unwilling perhaps to witness their sufferings, remained below, and when they reached London, only consented to land under the supervision of a guard of honour, composed of all the able-bodied men on the wharf.