Edward Barry | Page 2

or sitting about on the
wharf stringers, fishing, had been driven away by the inclemency of the
weather, or were gathered in small parties in the bars of the numerous
public-houses near by. Now and then a seaman would be seen either
returning to his ship or hurrying along the wharf towards the city with
his coat collar turned up to his ears, and his hands thrust into the
capacious pockets of his heavy jacket; the whole scene was miserable
and depressing.
Presently a policeman appeared, walking slowly along under the shelter
of the warehouse walls. He too was enjoying the luxury of a pipe, for
there was no danger of running across the sergeant on such a day as this.
As he drew near to the man who was sitting down he gave him a quick
but apparently careless glance--a wharf policeman has a natural distrust
of a man who keeps hanging about the stores and warehouses, doing
nothing, or standing out in the open, exposed to the rain. But the
guardian of the peace was satisfied that the object of his brief scrutiny

was no loafer or possible burglar, and bade him a civil "Good-day," to
which the man at once responded.
"It's beastly weather, isn't it?" said the official, as he leant against the
wall, evidently disposing himself for a chat.
"It is indeed," replied the other, "and it's getting dirtier still over there
to the south-east."
"That's pleasant for me. I don't get relieved until midnight, and this beat
here is none too pleasant a one on a dark night, believe me."
"So I should imagine. I'll be glad to get back into the city as soon as I
can; but I'm waiting here to see if I can get aboard that little brig over
there. Do you know her name?"
"Yes. She's the Mahina, a South Sea trader. But I don't see how you can
get off to her, there's no waterman here, and none of her boats will
come ashore--I can tell you that much for certain. The captain is on
shore looking for men, and those who are aboard won't be given a
chance to put foot in a boat."
"Why, anything gone wrong aboard?"
"Rather! There's been a lot of trouble with the men, though there hasn't
been any court work over it. The captain and mate are holy
terrors--regular brutes, I'm told. Six of the hands swam ashore a few
nights ago and got clean away, poor beggars. You ain't thinking of
joining her, are you?"
"Indeed I am. I want a ship pretty badly. I'm broke."
"Well, don't ship on that craft, young fellow, take my advice. Are you
dead, stony broke?"
"Pretty near, all but a few shillings. And I find it hard to get a ship--that
is, the sort of ship I want. I've been in the South Sea trade a couple of
years, and I like it."

"Ah, I see. Well, you know best, mister. I daresay you'll see the
Mahina's captain coming down the wharf before it gets dark. He's a
little, dark-faced, good-looking chap, with a pointed beard. I wish you
luck, anyway."
"Thank you," said Barry, as he returned the policeman's good-natured
nod and watched him saunter off again towards the end of the wharf.
Half an hour later five men appeared, all walking quickly towards the
spot where Barry was still patiently waiting. The man who was leading
he at once recognized as the captain of the brig--the four who followed
at his heels were common seamen by their dress, and ruffians of the
first water by their appearance. Each carried a bundle under his arm,
and one a small chest on his shoulder; he was evidently the wealthy
man of the lot.
Stepping out from under the shelter of the wall, Barry stood in the
centre of the path, and waited the captain's approach.
"Are you in want of hands, sir?" he asked, touching his cap. The master
of the brig gave him a swift, searching glance from head to feet, and
then without answering the inquiry he turned to his followers.
"Go on to the end of the wharf. Hail the brig to send a boat ashore, and
then wait for me." His voice was clear and sharp, but not unpleasant.
The four men shuffled off, and the moment they were out of hearing he
addressed himself to Barry.
"I've just found all the men I want, but I could do with another--if he is
anything better than such things as those," and he nodded
contemptuously at the figures of the four seamen. Then with
lightning-like rapidity of utterance he asked, "You're not a foremast
hand?"
"I want to ship before the mast," was the quiet answer.
"Got a mate's or second mate's