Part 22 (1/2)
”She looks very pretty,” observed Fritz admiringly.
”Blow thet!” exclaimed the skipper with a laugh. ”Folks would think you were talkin' 'bout a gal; but, what ken a longsh.o.r.e fellow know 'bout a shep!” he added compa.s.sionately. ”What d'ye say 'bout her Mas' Eric, hey?”
”I say she's a regular clipper, captain,” answered the lad in prompt sailor fas.h.i.+on, much to the skipper's delight. Eric's encomium was all the more appreciative from the fact of his having been familiar with the s.h.i.+p through part of her last voyage. Then, she was all battered and bruised from her conflict with the elements during her cruise in southern seas; so, now, her present transformation and gala trim made the difference in her appearance all the more striking to him, causing her good points to s.h.i.+ne out with all the greater display and hiding most of her drawbacks.
”Ah, thet's your sort of 'pinion I likes,” said the skipper in reply to Eric's tribute to the vessel's merits. ”Yes, suttenly, she's a clipper, if ever there wer one; an' a beauty to the back of thet, I reckon, hey, sonny?” and he gave the lad one of his thundering pats of approval across the shoulders with his broad hand that almost jerked him off the jetty.
”I guess,” he added presently, ”the only thing we've got to do now is to shep a tol'able crew aboard; an' then, I kalkerlate, mister, she'll be the slickest whaler this v'y'ge as ever loos'd tops'les an' sailed out o' Narraganset Bay!”
”Will there be any difficulty in getting men?” asked Fritz.
”No, I reckon not, mister,” replied the skipper, with a huge guffaw at his ignorance. ”Why, the crimpers would send 'em to me in shoals, fur Job Brown is as well-known in Providence as Queen Victoria is in England, G.o.d bless her fur a good woman, too! The diff'culty lies in pickin' out the good ones thet air worth their salt from the green hands, as ain't up to a kid of lobscouse fur all the work they ken do aboard a shep!”
”Well, I hope you'll get the men you want,” said Fritz cordially.
”Nary a doubt 'bout thet,” answered the other, slewing round and trotting across the wharf to a line of warehouses and merchants' offices on the other side. ”I'm just a-goin' to my agents now; an' I ken tell you, fur a fact, thet Job Brown is never licked, no, sir, not when he makes up his mind to anythin'!”
In the evening of the same day he astonished Fritz somewhat.
”Who d'ye think wished fur to sign articles with me to-day fur the v'y'ge?” said he, after he mentioned that he had s.h.i.+pped his crew and that the _Pilot's Bride_ would haul out into the stream the next morning, preparatory to starting off altogether on the following day.
”I'm sure I can't say,” replied Fritz.
”Who but our old friend Nat Slater!” said the skipper with a broad grin.
”I guess Nathaniel Was.h.i.+ngton hez come down in the world ag'in, fur all his tall talkin' about what he wer goin' to do to help you, hey?”
”Have you taken him on?” asked Fritz, somewhat dubious about the pleasure which the society of the whilom ”deck hand” of the steamboat would afford him when the two of them should be cooped together on board the same vessel for any length of time, especially after the way in which that individual had behaved to him.
”Yes, I let him jine,” answered the skipper. ”I couldn't do else, considerin' the poor cuss wer so down on his luck as to ask me; 'sides, mister, I knewed him afore he went to the bad; an' if he du come with me, it'll do him good in one way. He'll never get none o' thet infarnal drink till he comes back ag'in to Providence, fur I never allows a drop o' pizen in any craft I sails from the time we leaves port till we casts anchor ag'in!”
”I'm glad to hear that,” said Fritz. ”There's mischief enough done with it on land without taking it to sea.”
”Right you air, mister,” rejoined the other; ”but, mind you, I don't ask my men to do what I don't do myself. This old hoss doesn't believe in a fellow's preachin' one thing and practisin' another; no, sirree! I ain't a teetotaler, nohow; but I never touches a drop o' licker from the time I sots foot aboard s.h.i.+p till I treads land ag'in--an' what I does, every man Jack o' my crew shall do ditto, or I'll know an' larn 'em the reason why, you bet! Howsomedever, mister, I guess we'd all better turn in now,” he added, making a signal which Mrs Brown and Celia always interpreted as meaning their departure to bed. ”Recollect, this'll be our last night ash.o.r.e, fur we shall all hev to rise airly in the mornin'
to git the _Pilot's Bride_ under weigh.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE VOYAGE OF THE s.h.i.+P.
When Fritz awoke the next day, however, he could not quite make out what was going on in the place. There was a strong smell of gunpowder in the air, and he could hear the cracking reports of small cannon, let off at frequent intervals with much noise in the streets by a crowd of boys, whose voices mingled with the excruciating sound of squeaking trumpets and the shrill, ear-piercing scream of penny whistles.
For the moment, he thought he was dreaming again of the old days of the war, and that the confused medley, which became each moment louder, was but the half-waking recollection of the bivouac around Metz, with its many constant alarms of sallies and sorties from the beleaguered fortress; but, when he came downstairs from his bedroom, he was speedily undeceived as to the reason for the pandemonium without.
The captain and Eric had already started off for the s.h.i.+p, and only Mrs Brown and Celia were below waiting breakfast for him.
”What on earth is the matter?” he asked. ”It seems like Bedlam broken loose. Is there an insurrection going on?”
”Ah, they're having a fine time, ain't they!” said Miss Celia.