The Island Treasure. John C. Hutcheson
stowed and the reef let out of the foresail.
Later on, the top-gallants were set, as well as the spanker; and the Denver City, under a good spread of canvas, began to show us how she could go through the water on a bowline; for, the sea having gone down a bit, besides running the same way we were going, she did not take in so much wet nor heel over half so much as she did an hour before, when beating to windward, while every stitch she had on drew, sending her along a good eight knots or more, with a wake behind her like a mill race.
During the commotion that ensued when we were bracing the yards and letting out reefs and setting more sail, I had lost sight of Sam Jedfoot, the men bustling about so much forward that I retreated under the break of the poop, out of their way; but, from here, I noticed that Sam made himself very busy when the clew-garnet blocks were hauled aft, on the mainsail being dropped, his powerful arms being as good as any two men tailed on to a rope, for there was “plenty of beef” in him, if he were not up to much in the matter of size.
After the bustle, however, I was called in to the cabin by the steward, to help wait at table, as the captain had come down to dinner at last, now that everything was going well with the ship and we were fairly out at sea, the first-mate accompanying him, while Jan Steenbock was left in charge of the deck, with strict orders to keep the same course, west sou’-west, and call Captain Snaggs if any change should take place in the wind.
“I guess the stoopid cuss can’t make no durned mistake about thet,” I heard the captain say to Mr. Flinders, as he came down the companion hatchway, rubbing his hands, as if in anticipation of his dinner; “an’, by thunder, I dew feel all powerful hungry!”
“So do I, sir,” chimed in the first-mate. “I hope the stooard hez somethin’ good for us to eat. I feels raal peckish, I dew!”
“Hope ye ain’t too partick’ler,” rejoined Captain Snaggs; “fur this ’ll be the last dinner thet air conceited darkey, Sam, ’ll cook fur ye, Flinders. He goes in the fo’c’s’le to-morrow, an’ this hyar lout of a stooard shall take his place in the galley.”
“ ‘Changey for changey, black dog for white monkey,’ ” observed the first-mate with a snigger. “Eh, cap?”
“Ye’ve hit it, Flinders, I reckon,” said the other; and, as he gave a look round the cabin before taking his seat, which the Welsh steward stood behind obsequiously, although he could not draw it out, as it was lashed down to the deck and a fixture, the captain added: “Ye’d better see about gettin’ the deadlights up to them stern ports, Flinders, afore nightfall. They look kinder shaky, an’ if a followin’ sea shu’d catch us astern, we’d be all swamped in hyar, I guess.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” said the first-mate, seating himself, too; that is, as soon as he noticed that the steward, who had instantly rushed forward to the galley for the dinner, which was keeping hot there, had returned with a smoking dish, which he placed in front of the captain, dexterously removing the cover almost at the same instant—“I’ll see to it the first thing when I go on deck again.”
“An’, Flinders,” continued Captain Snaggs, ladling out a good portion of the contents of the dish into a plate, which the steward passed on to the first-mate, “I see a rope’s-end hangin’ down thaar, too, like a bight of the signal halliards or the boom-sheet, which some lubber hez let tow overboard. Hev it made fast an’ shipshape. I hate slovenliness like pizen!”
“So do I, sir, you bet,” answered the mate, with his mouth full. “I’ll watch it when I go on the poop agen; but, ain’t this fowl an’ rice jest galumptious, cap?”
“Pretty so so,” said Captain Snaggs, who seemed somewhat critical, in spite of his assertion of being ravenous and ‘a reg’ler whale on poultry,’ as he had observed when Jones took off the dish cover. “Strikes me, thaar’s a rum sort o’ taste about it thet ain’t quite fowlish!”
“M–yum, m–yum; I dew taste somethin’ bitterish,” agreed Mr. Flinders, smacking his lips and deliberating apparently over the flavour of the fowl; “p’raps the critter’s gall bladder got busted—hey?”
“P’raps so, Flinders,” rejoined the skipper; “but I hope thet durned nigger hasn’t be’n meddlin’ with it! Them darkeys air awful vengeful, an’ when I hed him up jist now, an’ told him he’d hev ter go forrud, I heard him mutter sunthin’ about ‘not forgettin’’—guess I did, so.”
Captain Snaggs looked so solemn as he said this, with his face bent down into his plate to examine what was on it the more closely, and his billy-goat beard almost touching the gravy, that I had to cough to prevent myself from laughing; for, I was standing just by him, handing round a dish of potatoes at the time.
“Hillo!” he exclaimed, looking up and staring at me so that I flushed up as red as a turkey cock, “what’s the matter with ye, b’y?”
“N–n–nothing, sir,” I stammered. “I—I couldn’t help it, sir; I have got a sort of tickling in my throat.”
“Guess a ticklin’ on yer back would kinder teach ye better manners when ye’re a-waitin’ at table,” he said, grimly. “Go an’ tell the stooard to fetch the rum bottle out of my bunk, with a couple of tumblers, an’ then ye can claar out right away. I don’t want no b’ys a-hangin’ round when I’m feedin’!”
Glad enough was I at thus getting my dismissal without any further questioning; and, after giving Jones the captain’s message, I went out from the pantry on to the maindeck, and so forward to the galley, where I expected to find Sam.
He wasn’t there, however; but, hearing his voice on the fo’c’s’le, I looked up, and saw him there, in the centre of a little knot of men, consisting of Tom Bullover, the carpenter, Hiram Bangs, and another sailor, to whom, as I quickly learnt from a stray word here and there, the darkey cook was laying down the law anent the skipper and his doings.
“De ole man’s a hard row to hoe, yer bet,” I heard him say, “but he don’t get over dis chile nohow! I’se heer tell ob him afore I ship’t as how he wer the hardest cap’n as sailed out ob Libberpool.”
“Then, why did you jine?” asked Hiram Bangs; “good cooks ain’t so common as you couldn’t git another vessel.”
“Why did yer jine, Mass’ Hiram, sin’ yer sailed wid him afore, an’ knowed he was de bery debble?”
“ ’Cause I wants ter go to ’Frisco,” replied the other; “an’, ’sides, I ain’t afeared of the old skunk. He’s more jaw nor actin’, an’ a good sailor, too, an’ no mistake, spite of his bad temper an’ hard words.”
“Golly, Hiram, nor ain’t I’se funky ob him, neider! My fader in Jamaiky he one big fetish man; an’ I not ’fraid ob Captain Snaggs, or de debbel, or any odder man; an’ I wants ter go ter ’Frisco, too, an’ dat’s de reason I’se hyar.”
Presently, when I had the chance of speaking to him, I told him of the captain’s suspicions; but he only laughed when I begged him to tell me if he had put anything into the cabin dinner, and what it was.
“Yah-yah, sonny! I’se tole yer so, I’se tole yer so—hoo-hoo!” he cried, doubling himself up and yelling with mirth. “I’se tole yer, ‘jess wait till bymeby, an’ yer see one big joke;’ but, chile, yer’d better not know nuffin ’bout it; fo’, den yer ken tell de troot if de cap’n ax, an’ say yer knows nuffin.”
This was no doubt sound advice; still, it did not satisfy my curiosity, and I was rather indignant at his not confiding in me. Of course, I was not going to tell the captain or anybody, for I wasn’t a sneak, at all events, if I was only a cabin boy!
Vexed at his not confiding in me, I turned to look over the side at the scene around.
The sun had not long set, and a bit of the afterglow yet lingered over the western horizon, warming up that portion of the sky; but, above, although the leaden clouds had all