Part 28 (2/2)

When I awoke to consciousness I was in chains, and the captain by my side.

”Well, Tretheway,” said he, ”and this is the way you carry on?”

I was silent.

”I took you for a decent lad, perhaps my better in many things, and yet, here I find you fightin' like th' old Nick himself.”

”What have I done?” I said sulkily.

”Done! Why disabled two men, unfitted them for work for a week at least, knocked two more into a c.o.c.ked hat, and would have killed 'em if the whole crew hadn't seized you and took you below here and put you in irons!”

”Somebody has struck me,” I said. ”I've a wound on my head.”

”A chap said he were obliged to do that or you'd a bin the death of him.”

”Captain,” I said, ”you know the truth about this, and that I sought no quarrel; but now, now--if one of them dares to trifle with me I'll----”

”You won't have the chance, Tretheway, my boy. Every man jack of 'em declares they will not sail with you. They've all given warnin' unless you are dropped at the first port.”

”Why?”

”Because they say you are not a man but a devil. They say yer eyes were red, and they see a flame a comin' from yer mouth as you fought, and although they're a bad lot I hain't got time to get a fresh crew to suit you, so you must either be left in irons until we get to London, or be dropped at Dover.”

”I'll go to London,” I said; ”I may stand a better chance there.”

The captain left me, and I was again alone. I did not feel at all excited, but a kind of despair possessed me. I was not at all surprised or annoyed at the men. I felt that they were right. I should have done harm to them had I remained at liberty. I was not fit to have my irons knocked off. The spirit of hatred possessed me, hatred that was dark and murderous, and hatred is the devil.

I spoke to no one during the time I remained on the vessel. I spoke not when the irons were knocked off my feet and hands by the captain.

I climbed to the deck, and saw the men huddled together as if in fear, and I stood and watched them; then I looked and saw we were anch.o.r.ed in a great tidal river, and that London, great London, was on either side of me. Once it would have aroused all the enthusiasm and excitement of my nature. Now I was unmoved. I was about to leave the boat, when a thought struck me and I turned to the captain.

”Captain Luke Miller,” I said, ”you know the whole meaning and history of this matter, and that I picked no quarrel. I don't grumble; but I want you to stretch a point for me. Can you give me a certificate as an able-bodied seaman?”

He did not speak, but put a piece of paper in my hand, and pointed to the board by which I was to leave the boat. I gave him a look of thankfulness and left.

I tramped through the crowded London streets unheedingly. I did not realise the seething surging, ma.s.ses of people; I forgot that I was in the greatest city of the world, the centre of thought, and power, and learning.

At length I came to London Bridge. I did not know it at the time, but I have since learned that such was the fact. I stood for a little while wondering at the great crowds of busy people, and then I looked at the broad, dirty river. A large vessel was being unloaded of her cargo, and I went straight to the captain.

I asked him for a place among the crew. He looked at me suspiciously and then said, ”Who was your last captain?”

I told him.

”Let's have a look at your papers,” he said.

Although I had not looked at what Captain Luke Miller had given me, I handed the certificate to this skipper, who read it carefully.

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