The Deep Sea's Toll. James B. Connolly
looks like a load’d come off his chest.
“He was goin’ to turn in then, when he happened to think he’d like to have a mug-up. So he gets a mug of coffee and a slice of pie, and takes a seat on the wind’ard locker. There was plenty wind stirrin’ then, mind you, but there he was havin’ a nice little mug-up for himself, sittin’ on the weather-locker and all oiled-up, leanin’ over the table, his mug o’ coffee to one hand and a wide wedge o’ pie to the other. Man, I have to laugh every time I think of him. ‘The cook of this vessel does make the finest apple pie, don’t he?’ he says, and you could see his spirits was beginnin’ to rise, with the hot coffee gettin’ inside of him. The Colleen was bumpin’ herself all this time, rollin’ over like she was goin’ to lie down, and then gettin’ up again, rearin’ her head and fannin’ herself with her forefeet, standin’ on her hind legs and then comin’ down again, doin’ all those kind of things you gets used to on her when the Skipper’s tryin’ to sail her in a blow. Well, I watches this little Jimmie for awhile, till I happens to think that so long’s I had another watch to stand I might’s well have another pipeful while I was waitin’. I was thinkin’ of steppin’ over for a bit of tobacco out of big Jerry’s bunk, which was right over where this Jimmie Johnson was sittin’, when the Colleen gave an extra good lurch, and with it all at once this lad sank down about a foot or so, and Jerry at the same time most comes through the bottom of his bunk. The lad, he gets pale, and makes as if he was tryin’ to stand up but couldn’t. ‘What is it?’ I said, and wonders what was wrong with him. ‘My oil-skins,’ said he. ‘All the looseness in my oil-pants is ketched tight.’ And then Jerry woke up, with the noise he made in fallin’, I s’pose, and the most surprised man you ever saw. ‘Mother o’ mine!’ says Jerry, ‘what’s that?’ and just for’ard of him Aleck McKenzie leaps a full three feet into the air, hittin’ the deck beam so hard he must’ve left pieces of himself stickin’ to it. ‘What in the—!’ says Aleck, and when he got that far he sees this Jimmie Johnson. ‘Did you do that?’ he says.
“‘No,’ says he, and tryin’ himself to get off the locker Aleck notices him.
“‘What you doin’ there anyway?’ says Aleck.
“‘I dunno,’ says Jimmie, and just then the Colleen falls the other way and lets him loose again, and he leaps for the gangway and up on deck. Man, he fair flew, and I went up after him, not knowin’ what might happen to him, and Jerry and Aleck below swearin’ like crazy men.
“Up on the deck there was the Skipper just able to keep his feet and talkin’ to Dal Skinner,
“All the looseness in my oil-pants is ketched tight.”
who was to the wheel. It was dark enough, but you c’d make him out where the light of the binnacle hit on his wet oil-skins. Up to him popped the little man from somewhere. ‘My God, but it’s a wild night, ain’t it, Captain?’ says he.
“‘Who the divil’s that?’ says the Skipper, and he peeks along the deck to where Jimmie was hangin’ to the weather rail. After takin’ another peek and seein’ who it was, the Skipper don’t pay no more attention to him, but goes on talkin’ to Dal.
“‘I’m thinkin’,’ says the Skipper, ‘that it’s moderatin’ a bit and maybe she’d stand the stays’l pretty soon.’ Jimmie, I guess, was listenin’ to that and couldn’t hold in any longer. ‘Oh, Captain, Captain,’ says he, ‘she’s fallin’ apart forward,’ and tells him what happened in the forec’s’le. ‘How long you been sleepin’ for’ard?’ asks the Skipper.
“‘Four nights now,’ says Jimmie.
“‘Only four nights? That’s it, you’re not used to sleepin’ for’ard yet. You mustn’t mind that. They all used to think that at first. But Lord bless you, don’t you mind that. That’s just a little way she has. She don’t mean any harm.’
“‘But Jerry fell through his bunk.’
“‘And why wouldn’t he? sure he weighs a ton.’
“‘But,’ says Jimmie, ‘she pinched my oil-pants, her planks opened up so wide!’
“‘That so? And what size oil-skins do you wear?’
“‘I dunno,’ says he—‘these belong to Clancy.’
“‘There it is,’ said he, ‘Clancy’s a big man, and your oil-skins are too loose. Go below and see if you can find some that are four sizes smaller and get the loan of ’em. Go below anyway,’ says he, ‘and finish your mug-up. You’ll feel better.’
“‘If you don’t mind, Captain,’ says he, ‘I’d rather stay on deck awhile—it’s safer, I think.’
“‘All right,’ says the Skipper, ‘but don’t get in the way.’
“He hadn’t got that fair out, when ‘Hard down—hard down!’ comes ravin’ from the watch for’ard. ‘Down,’ hollers Dal, and the Colleen makes a shoot, and the booms start to come over. And just then the Skipper makes a jump for the waist after this Jimmie and slings him out of the way of the fore-boom. He saved Jimmie from having his head split open and knocked overboard and lost, but he couldn’t save himself. Even a man like Tom O’Donnell can’t sling a man out of the way on a wet and driving deck with one hand like he was a feather, and the boom ketches him side the head just as the vessel heels down again on the other tack and over the railing he goes——”
“Not overboard, Tommie!”
“Yes, overboard and into the black sea, and me standing by couldn’t save him from it. I jumped, but he was gone, and over on the other side the clumsy ark of a vessel we had to turn out for went on by. The watch must’ve been asleep aboard of her. I stood and cursed her lights as they went away from us. Yes, sir, cursed ’em out between the times I was hollering for the gang to come up.
“‘On deck everybody—all hands on deck!’ I roars it loud’s I could, and had the gripes slashed off the nest of lee dories by the time they came up flying.
“‘The Skipper is gone,’ says I—‘over with a dory!’ and we had one over in no time, and Jerry and me jumps in—Jerry in his stockin’ feet—and out we goes. We couldn’t sees so much as a star in the sky, if there was one—not even the white tops of the seas—but we drove her out, and ’twas all we could do to keep the dory from capsizin’ by the way. ‘To looard!’ I says, and to looard we pushed her, and then, ‘Hi, the Colleen Bawn! On your lee quarter.’ ’Twas the Skipper’s voice. And maybe we didn’t row! But ’twas one thing to hear his voice, and another in that night and sea and blackness to find him, and keep the dory right side up at the same time. But he kept singin’ out and we kept drivin’ away, and at last we got him. A hard job he must’ve had trying to keep afloat with his big jack-boots on, and everything else on, for the fifteen minutes or more it took us to find him.
“‘Lord!’ says he, ‘but I’m glad to see you. Paddling like a porpoise I’ve been since I went over the side. But drive for the vessel—there’s her port light—and I’ll keep bailin’, if one of ye’ll lend me your sou’wester.’
“We got alongside, and the Skipper climbs over the rail. ‘Put her on her course again,’ he says, and then starts to go below to overhaul his head.
“And then Jimmie Johnson steps up. ‘How’d it come, Captain,’ he says, ‘you fell overboard?’ By the light from the cabin gangway the Skipper sees him, and——
“‘You little—I dunno what—but go below. Take him for’ard, somebody,’ he says, ‘and tie him in his bunk, or give him laudanum out of the medicine-chest, afore we have all hands lost tryin’ to look after him.’
“Then