Mother Careys Chicken | Page 8

on by resting the top button of their trousers upon this
horizontal spar, their hands being fully occupied with hauling in and
folding up the new stiff canvas of the sail.
"I say, father," he said, "isn't that dangerous?"
"What, my lad?"
"The work those men are doing."
"What, up aloft? H'm, yes, no! They're so used to it that it has ceased to
be dangerous, my boy. Use is second nature. It would be dangerous for
you or me."
Mark followed, and the captain showed him his cabin.

"You're a lucky one," he said. "There's a place all to yourself. Are you
going to stay aboard?"
"Yes, father. I've sent my bag, and mother is going to meet me here this
evening."
"That's right. Now I must be off to see the owners. Keep out of the way
as well as you can. I suppose you will find plenty to amuse yourself."
Mark said, "Oh, yes!" but he felt as if there was going to be very little
that was amusing; and as he saw his father go toward the gangway and
speak to the first-mate, who seemed to reply with a surly nod, the office
of captain seemed of less account than ever.
The scene was not inspiriting. It was a dull, cold, cheerless afternoon in
May; the deck was one chaos of bales, packages, and boxes. Ropes
were lying about as if there was no such thing as order on board a ship.
Forward there was a pile of rusty chain, and if the new-comer stirred a
step he was sure to be in somebody's way; and when, in response to a
hoarse "by yer leave," he moved somewhere else, it was to find himself
in a worse position still.
Bruff quite shared his feelings, and showed it by shivering from time to
time, and, after getting behind Mark, trying to drive his head between
his master's legs, an attempt that was always met by a rebuff, for Mark
had not yet gained his sea-legs and taken to walking with his feet very
wide apart.
But all the same there was a deal to notice, and by degrees the lad grew
interested as he wondered how it was possible for the yawning hatch in
the middle of the deck to swallow up such an endless number of crates
and boxes, bales and packages, of all kinds. While what seemed more
astonishing was the fact, that as fast as the cargo disappeared more was
brought aboard from the quay, where it was unloaded from vans and
carts.
"Here, hi! young Strong!" cried the mate suddenly. "Come here."

Mark walked up to him hastily as he stood near the gangway, talking to
a custom-house officer.
"Oh, there you are! Look here, which is it--wasp or bee!"
"Wasp or bee, sir--which?"
The customs-officer laughed, and Mark coloured up, but Mr Gregory
stood with his red nose shining and his pimply face as hard and cold as
a statue's.
"Which? Why, you--come aboard to idle or work?"
"I don't know, sir. Can I do anything?"
"How should I know? I should say not, by the look of you. Will you
try?"
"Yes, sir. I should be glad to," cried Mark.
"Come, that's better. Take that piece of chalk, and tally."
"I--I don't know how."
"Bah! what do they teach boys at schools nowadays? Do you mean to
tell me you can't make a mark and keep count of those barrels of beer
they're going to bring on board?"
"Why, of course I can, sir."
"Then why did you say you couldn't?"
"You told me to tallow something, sir."
"I didn't! Here, catch hold of the chalk and make a mark there against
every one that's rolled on board. Hallo, ugly! you're there then!"
continued the mate, suppressing a smile and addressing Bruff, who
gave him a sour look and went behind his master.

Mark took the chalk, and for the next half-hour he was busy checking
the barrels. This done there was a succession of boxes to be accounted
for in the same way, and after them a hundred sacks, the arrival of the
latter putting the mate in a furious passion.
"For two straws I wouldn't have them aboard," he roared. "They were
to have been delivered a week ago, and here are we kept waiting like
this."
And still the vessel kept on swallowing up cargo, the riggers gave the
finishing touches to the vessel's ropes and sails, and the confusion
appeared to grow worse instead of better; but in spite of a low-spirited
sensation, Mark was fain to confess to himself that he had been
interested if not amused, when the least sailor-like man he had seen on
board came from the cabin-door and spoke to the mate, who gave a