Part 5 (1/2)
”_I_ am!” says Captain Jesse, jumping back, mad as a b.u.mblebee. ”_I_ am; that's _me_! I don't own this boat nor nothin'! I've got to be told what I'm to do, I have!”
”Sure!” says Eli, undisturbed.
”Well, all right,” says the captain, calm as anything. ”What makes you so hasty, Eli? Does he pay his pa.s.sage, or work it?”
”He gives you five dollars in hand, and works the rest of it,” says Eli.
The cap'n gave a horrible grin, showing a set of teeth like a small horse.
”And won't he work it!” says he, rubbing his hands together. ”Dry land'll do for him, two weeks out.”
”Yaaas,” says Eli. ”You're a turble person, you are--you'd ought to been a pirate, Jess.”
Cap'n Jesse got mad again--he was more like a little boy than anybody of his weight I ever see. He come up to Eli and shook his finger under that hawk-bill of a nose.
”I don't want none of your slack, Eli!” he says. ”You've tried me often”--here he got impressive, talking very slow--”don't you try me once too much!”
Eli grabbed the hand, stuck the finger in his mouth, and bit it.
”Aaoow!” yells the captain, grabbing his finger. ”You quit your foolin'!”
By this time I was lost entirely. What to make of the proceedings was beyond guessing. Boylike, I thought men always acted with some big idea in view, but the next minute Eli and Cap'n Jesse had grabbed holt of one another and was scuffling and giggling around the deck like a pair of kids. Captain Jess was stout about the shoulders; he had Eli waving in the breeze once, but at last Eli gave him a back trip and down they come. Then up they got; each cut off a hunk of chewing and began to talk as if they'd acted perfectly reasonable. Seems that's the way they always come together.
The three of us took a look about the boat. She was an able, fine three-master, the pride of Jesse's soul; 'most as big as a s.h.i.+p.
Them were the days when most folk built deep and narrer, but Jesse had ideas of his own when he laid down the lines of the _Matilda_, of Boston. She looked bluff and heavy in the bows and her bilges turned hard, but she walked over the water, and don't you forget it. Moreover, she was the kindest boat in a seaway I ever boarded. Old _Matilda_ girl would heel just so far; after that the worst draft that ever whistled wouldn't put her under an inch; she'd part with her sticks first. Handy boat, a schooner, too; sensible and Yankeefied. Lord! what a claw-and-messing on board a square-rigger, compared to it! And taking two men to the schooner's one at that.
The _Matilda_ was fitted for pa.s.sengers. She had eight nice clean cabins, and fine quarters for the crew. In most such boats you can't more 'n stand up, if you stretch between hair and shoe-leather the way I do, but here there was head-room a-plenty. And Uncle Jesse ate the boys well, too. Good old craft and good old boy running her. Soon's you realized that all his spitting and swearing and roaring didn't amount to no more than a hearty sneeze, you got along with Jesse great, if you was fit to get along with anybody.
We took aboard four pa.s.sengers that night, one of 'em being a lady. The next morning at four we pulled out with the ebb-tide.
Before we got into the open water, I felt such a joy boiling inside me I had to sing, no matter what the feelings of the rest were. Oh! Oh! The blue, bright sky; and the blue, crinkly, good-smelling water; the quant.i.ties of fresh air around, and _Matilda_ picking up her white skirts and skipping for Panama! Neither man nor money will ever give me a feeling like that again. But then,--ah, then! And there's 'most always a then,--when the _Matilda_ tried to spear a gull with her bowsprit, and, shamefaced at the failure above, tried to harpoon some little fishy with the same weapon,--why, I hope I'll never have a feeling like that again, neither.
I hung over a bunk like a snarl of rope. Jesse come down and grinned at me. I couldn't even get mad. ”Tell mother I died thinking of her,” was all I could say.
Now that was n.o.ble of me. Many a man has cashed his checks not feeling half so bad; but if any poor soul ever regretted a good deed, I did that one. That last message to my mother seemed to remain in the memory of our s.h.i.+p's company, long after I was willing to forget it.
For two solid days I didn't live inside of myself,--mind floated around in s.p.a.ce. After that, I got up, ready for anything in the line of eating they had on board. Jesse brought me a smoked herring and a cup of coffee,--the first coffee I ever tasted, mother thinking it wasn't good for boys. Within ten minutes after my meal, William De La Tour Saunders belonged to himself once more. Never had a squirm of seasickness since.
For the first week I wasn't quite up to the mark, but Jesse told me to take a cup of sea-water every morning before breakfast, which tuned me up in jig-time.
I saw our lady pa.s.senger when she come up for air. A girl of about twenty, supple and balanced as a tight-rope walker; you thought she was slim when you first looked at her, yet when you looked the second time you couldn't prove it. What a beautiful thing is a set of muscles that know their business! Muscles that meet every roll of a boat, or whatever it is they should meet, without haste and without loss of time,--just there, when they should be there! Why, to see that girl walk twenty feet on the schooner's deck was a picture to remember for the rest of your days. Kid that I was, I noticed there wasn't a line in her makeup that said, ”Look at me.” Afterward I learned to shake my head at graceful ladies, but I feel kindly toward them still, out of memory of that first girl. My mother moved beautifully, likewise Mattie. They were quiet, though; restful women; this one was all spring and ginger,--for Heaven's sake, don't think I mean prancy! Nor that I haven't met a prancy girl or two who was all right, when I say that,--fat and jolly, yellow-haired girls, to go with good meals and a romp,--but this My Lady was made of the stuff Uncle Shakspere wrote. She was clean and sweet as pine-woods after rain, but full of fire, sense, and foolishness.
I remember thinking, ”When this girl turns round she ain't going to be handsome in the face. With that head of hair, that back, and that walk, Providence will feel square on the deal.” And when she did turn round I simply spread my hands, mouth, and eyes, and looked at her. I forgot being aboard s.h.i.+p, I forgot where I was going and why, I forgot who I was and everything else; all I knew was that a kind of human I never believed lived was walking toward me.
I caught one glance of her eyes; outside their beauty was fun, kindness, and a desire to be friends; from that minute one red-headed puppy-dog found something to live for.
My devotion had nothing to do with the ordinary love-affair. As for marrying her, no such idea entered my loft. I had no jealousies. All I wanted was for her to be near me, to be a friend of mine, and that she might be on hand to approve if I did something surprising. I wanted the privilege of her hearing me talk about myself; and, for the rest of it, I could sit and look at her beauty, the same as you or me could sit and listen to the greatest music. It meant more than just good looks; I wouldn't go too far if I said it was a kind of religion. And the devil take my soul if I forget the horse-sense and kindness that girl used in teaching a foot-loose boy what a different place this world is, from what he'd been like to think it, without her. A young feller's first outpourings toward a woman has more effect on him than even his mother's years of care. He kind of takes mother for granted. The other woman represents his own endeavors. I played in luck.
We were introduced, bang! When about ten feet away from me she took her hand from the rail to gather in one end of a shawl. At that minute the _Matilda_ saw a whale, or something, and s.h.i.+ed. We struck the mainmast together, me trying to hold her up. She said, ”Why, how do you do?” I said I did very well, and was she hurt? She said, not in the least, thank you, except in her feelings, at being so clumsy. I said, if _she_ was clumsy, why, then, why, then--Now I was a little bashful. n.o.body could be a clodhopper who lived with my mother, and ordinarily I acted quite like a man when necessary, but this was a little sudden. I couldn't reach the word I looked for. With one hand braced against the mainmast, her hair standing in a black cloud about her head, the color whipped to her cheeks, she gave me a flash from the corner of her eye: ”I'm afraid I lose my compliment,” said she.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”The _Matilda_ saw a whale, or something and s.h.i.+ed”]