Part 21 (1/2)
”So?” sneered the captain. ”I won't? And why not?”
”Because I'm no friendless seafarer. And also because--here's my card.
Read it. It's the card of your boss, the man who can hire or fire you, or any other man or officer of this line. And I don't have to give you a reason unless it pleases me. But I'll give a reason at the right time--in your case. And the reason will leave you where you'll never again set foot on the deck of any s.h.i.+p of this line or of a good many other lines.”
The captain had set his back to the rail and bared his teeth. Noyes, thinking he was about to spring, braced his feet and waited. Noyes himself was no angelic-looking creature at the moment. His jaw seemed to shoot forward, his eyes to contract and recede.
”And so that's who you are, is it? And you'd break me?”
”Break you, yes. And perhaps put you in jail before I'm done with you.
Now will you put him in irons?”
The captain did not spring. He walked to his room instead. And he gave out no order just then; but soon the mess-boy came out and whispered to the first officer, and the first officer said, ”Kieran, you're to return to duty,” and pocketed his irons and called off the men.
It was an hour after the fight. Kieran had had time to clean up, and now, with the pa.s.senger, he was pacing the long gangway.
”And would you have gone over the side?” the pa.s.senger had asked.
”I guess I'd had to, wouldn't I?”
”And would you have reached sh.o.r.e?”
”Why not? Five miles--it's not much in smooth water.”
”But the sharks?”
”Sharks? Black boys in West Indian ports will dive all day among them for coppers. Sharks and whales--writers of sea stories certainly ought to pension them. There may have been a shark who once made a meal off a sailor, but let you or me drop over the side, and if there's one anywhere near, he wouldn't stop racing till he was a mile away, and if any harmless slob of a whale ever killed a sailor, be sure he did it through fright. But that's no matter. What does matter, though”--Kieran halted and faced the pa.s.senger--”are the men who did go over the side, and not within swimming distance of any pleasant sandy beach either.
'Tisn't every protesting seaman who finds the boss of the line on deck to back him up. And, what's harder, how about the men who never had the choice of going over the side? And think of the poor creatures who got so that in time they didn't even want to go over the side, who might have grown into honest, free men, but who, instead of that, learned only to live for the day when they too would have the power to make their inferiors stand around and cringe and whine.”
They paced the length of the deck twice before Kieran spoke again.
”They wonder at the decay of our merchant marine. I wonder did they ever stop to think of what men--seamen--think of the service? In the days of sailing s.h.i.+ps a man going to sea met with real danger and hards.h.i.+p, and they developed courage and skill and character of some kind. What training does he get to take the place of that now? He's a hand nowadays, a helper, a lumper--not a sailor--on a great big hulk to which disaster is almost impossible.”
”But disasters do happen.”
”They do, but what is the truth about them? Nine out of ten of them have a disgraceful cause. But the public doesn't hear of that, because the public doesn't go to sea--except as a saloon pa.s.senger. The public gets its story from the steams.h.i.+p company's office--always, and you know what kind of a story they put out--put out through newspapers that carry their advertising. You know what that chief clerk or that second clerk of yours would tell any inquiring outsider in case of a loss of life on one of these s.h.i.+ps. He'd lie and lie and lie and lie and think he was serving a good cause at that, and the papers publis.h.i.+ng the lie would think they were serving a good cause, too--especially the constructive organization papers, as they call themselves. Our big steams.h.i.+p officers these days--outside of the navy--don't get the kind of work that keeps men up to the mark, and not getting it they grow soft--their bodies and their souls become flabby. Engineer officers nowadays have the work cut out for them and they are doing good work, but the bridge officers are no longer men of the sea--they're clerks, agents in floating hotels. And the crew take their tone from the officers. When the commander's weak, your whole outfit is apt to weaken, especially under a strain.”
They resumed their pacing, Kieran with head high in the air, inhaling deep breaths of the fresh salt air.
The pa.s.senger came out of a deep meditation. ”Kieran, you can do a good work for us. Is there any berth with this line you'd like to have? If there is, say so. You can have it. You can have that head clerk's job if you want it. And I think that after a while I could get you mine, for I'm only there to fill a gap.”
Kieran shook his head. ”It wouldn't do.”
”Why not? You're the man for the job.”
”No, I'm not the man. You haven't got me quite right. I can point out errors, but I'm not the man to correct them. I'm not a good executive.”
”You certainly were the good executive in the bosun's case.”