reefed jib. By the time we had finished the wind had forced up such a tremendous
sea that it was impossible to heave her to. Away we flew on the wings of the
storm through the muck and flying spray. A wind sheer to starboard, then another
to port as the enormous seas struck the schooner astern and nearly broached her
to. As day broke we took in the jib, leaving not a sail unfurled. Since we had
begun scudding she had ceased to take the seas over her bow, but amidships they
broke fast and furious. It was a dry storm in the matter of rain, but the force of the
wind filled the air with fine spray, which flew as high as the crosstrees and cut the
face like a knife, making it impossible to see over a hundred yards ahead. The sea
was a dark lead color as with long, slow, majestic roll it was heaped up by the
wind into liquid mountains of foam. The wild antics of the schooner were
sickening as she forged along. She would almost stop, as though climbing a
mountain, then rapidly rolling to right and left as she gained the summit of a huge
sea, she steadied herself and paused for a moment as though affrighted at the
yawning precipice before her. Like an avalanche, she shot forward and down as
the sea astern struck her with the force of a thousand battering rams, burying her
bow to the catheads in the milky foam at the bottom that came on deck in all
directions- forward, astern, to right and left, through the hawse-pipes and over the
rail.
The wind began to drop, and by ten o’clock we were talking of heaving her to. We
passed a ship, two schooners, and a four-masted barkentine under the smallest of
canvas, and at eleven o’clock, running up the spanker and jib, we hove her to, and
in another hour we were beating back again against the aftersea under full sail to
regain the sealing ground away to the westward.
Below, a couple of men were sewing the “bricklayer’s” body in canvas
preparatory to the sea burial. And so with the storm passed away the
“bricklayer’s” soul.
THE LOST POACHER
(First published in The Youth’s Companion, March 14, 1901)
“But they won’t take excuses. You’re across the line, and that’s enough. They’ll
take you. In you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. And as for Uncle Sam, why,
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
18
what’s he to know about it? Never a word will get back to the States. ‘The Mary
Thomas,’ the papers will say, ‘the Mary Thomas lost with all hands. Probably in a
typhoon in the Japanese seas.’ That’s what the papers will say, and people, too. In
you go, Siberia and the salt-mines. Dead to the world and kith and kin, though
you live fifty years.”
In such manner John Lewis, commonly known as the “sea-lawyer,” settled the
matter out of hand.
It was a serious moment in the forecastle of the Mary Thomas. No sooner had the
watch below begun to talk the trouble over, than the watch on deck came down
and joined them. As there was no wind, every hand could be spared with the
exception of the man at the wheel, and he remained only for the sake of
discipline. Even “Bub” Russell, the cabin-boy, had crept forward to hear what was
going on.
However, it was a serious moment, as the grave faces of the sailors bore witness.
For the three preceding months the Mary Thomas sealing schooner had hunted the
seal pack along the coast of Japan and north to Bering Sea. Here, on the Asiatic
side of the sea, they were forced to give over the chase, or rather, to go no farther;
for beyond, the Russian cruisers patrolled forbidden ground, where the seals
might breed in peace.
A week before she had fallen into a heavy fog accompanied by calm. Since then
the fog-bank had not lifted, and the only wind had been light airs and catspaws.
This in itself was not so bad, for the sealing schooners are never in a hurry so long
as they are in the midst of the seals; but the trouble lay in the fact that the current
at this point bore heavily to the north. Thus the Mary Thomas had unwittingly
drifted across the line, and every hour she was penetrating, unwillingly, farther
and farther into the dangerous waters where the Russian bear kept guard.
How far she had drifted no man knew. The sun had not been visible for a week,
nor the stars, and the captain had been unable to take observations in order to
determine his position. At any moment a cruiser might swoop down and hale the
crew away to Siberia. The fate of other poaching seal-hunters was too well known
to the men of the Mary Thomas, and there was cause for grave faces.
“Mine friends,” spoke up a German boat-steerer, “it vas a pad piziness. Shust as
ve make a big catch, und all honest, somedings go wrong, und der Russians nab
us, dake our skins and our schooner, und send us mit der anarchists to Siberia.
Ach! a pretty pad piziness!”
“Yes, that’s where it hurts,” the sea lawyer went on. “Fifteen hundred skins in the
salt piles, and all honest, a big pay-day coming to every man Jack of us, and then
to be captured and lose it all! it’d be different if we’d been poaching, but it’s all
honest work in open water.”
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
19
“But if we haven’t done anything wrong, they can’t do anything to us, can they?”
Bub queried.
“It strikes me as ‘ow it ain’t the proper thing for a boy o’ your age shovin’ in when
‘is elders is talkin’,” protested an English sailor, from over the edge of his bunk.
“Oh, that’s all right, Jack,” answered the sea-lawyer. “He’s a perfect right to. Ain’t
he just as liable to lose his wages as the rest of us?”
“Wouldn’t give thruppence for them!” Jack sniffed back. He had been planning to
go home and see his family in Chelsea when he was paid Off, and he was now
feeling rather blue over the highly possible loss, not only of his pay, but of his
liberty.
“How are they to know?” the sea-lawyer asked in answer to Bub’s previous
question. “Here we are in forbidden water. How do they know but what we came
here of our own accord? Here we are, fifteen hundred skins in the hold. How do
they know whether we got them in open water or in the closed sea? Don’t you see,
Bub, the evidence is all against us. If you caught a man with his pockets full of
apples like those which grow on your tree, and if you caught him in your tree
besides, what’d you think if he told you he couldn’t help it, and had just been sort
of blown there, and that anyway those apples came from some other tree—what’d
you think, eh?”
Bub saw it clearly when put in that light, and shook his head despondently.
“You’d rather be dead than go to Siberia,” one of the boat-pullers said. “They put
you into the salt-mines and work you till you die. Never see daylight again. Why,
I’ve heard tell of one fellow that was chained to his mate, and that mate died. And
they were both chained together! And if they send you to the quicksilver mines
you get salivated. I’d rather be hung than salivated.”
“Wot’s salivated?” Jack asked, suddenly sitting up in his bunk at the hint of fresh
misfortunes.
“Why, the quicksilver gets into your blood; I think that’s the way. And your gums
all swell like you had the scurvy, only worse, and your teeth get loose in your
jaws. And big ulcers form, and then you die horrible. The strongest man can’t last
long a-mining quicksilver.”
“A pad piziness,” the boat-steerer reiterated, dolorously, in the silence which
followed. “A pad piziness. I vish I was in Yokohama. Eh? Vot vas dot?”
The vessel had suddenly heeled over. The decks were aslant. A tin pannikin rolled
down the inclined plane, rattling and banging. From above came the slapping of
canvas and the quivering rat-tat-tat of the after leech of the loosely stretched
DUTCH COURAGE AND OTHER STORIES
20
foresail. Then the mate’s voice sang down the hatch, “All hands on deck and make
sail!”
Never had such summons been answered with more enthusiasm. The calm had
broken. The wind had come which was to carry them south into safety. With a
wild cheer all sprang on deck. Working with mad haste, they flung out topsails,
flying jibs and stay- sails. As they worked, the fog-bank lifted and the black vault
of heaven, bespangled with the old familiar stars, rushed into view. When all was
ship-shape, the Mary Thomas was lying gallantly over on her side to a beam wind