Steve Young | Page 7

errors into which you
fall as you learn more. "Bought wit is better than taught wit," the old
moralist wrote; and he was quite right, for the things taught us are too
often forgotten, while those which we have bought at the cost of a good
deal of puzzling and study fix themselves firmly in the mind. So, as
soon as the tub was left standing on the deck, and he could
conveniently do so, Steve walked up and began to examine it, noting
principally that about half-way down there was a broad ledge half
round the inside.
"To brew something, I suppose," said Steve to himself. "They'll lay the
yeast, or whatever it is they use, on that ledge. Some kind of drink, I
suppose, to keep the men warm when we get up into the ice."
He had another good look round after thrusting his head inside the iron
rail, upon which a board was placed to slide, and then noted something
else which quite upset his theory.
At that moment the shock-headed boy came up from the hold, with a
bundle of what seemed to be stout oaken laths under his arm.
"What have you got there, Watty?"
"Wud--pieces o' wud."
"What for?"
"I dunno."
"Oh, you are a clever one!" cried Steve, turning away impatiently, for
the sour-looking sailor with the brown mark at the corner of his lip
came up from below, where he had been to fetch a bunch of tar-twine.
"Here, Andrew," said Steve eagerly, "what are they going to make in
that tub?"

"Make, Meester Young?" said the man, turning to gaze thoughtfully at
the cask. "Observations."
"Now, no gammon. Tell me!"
The man wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and spread his face
into a dry kind of grin, just as if something hurt him, and he was
smiling to show people that he did not mind.
"Observations," he said again.
Steve gave him an angry look.
"Don't you make stupid observations."
Andrew McByle of Ballachulish, a well-tanned Scottish whaler, "went
off": that is to say, he did not leave the spot on the deck where he stood
talking to Steve Young, but he went off like a clock or some other
piece of machinery; for he suddenly gave a jerk, and made a peculiar
noise inside somewhere about the throat, accompanied by some
singular contortions of the face.
Steve pressed close up to him, for he had seen the contortions before.
"Look here, Andy," he whispered, "do you want me to kick you?"
"Na, Mr Stevin."
"Then don't you laugh at me when I ask you questions. Every one isn't
so precious clever as you are; and look here, Watty Links, if you dare
to grin at me I'll punch your head. Now then, Andy, what is it?"
"Dinna ca' me Andy, my laddie, and she'll tell ye. My name's Andra."
"Very well then, Andra. What's the tub for?"
"The craw's-nest."
"Bah!" exclaimed Steve; and he walked forward to where the stout

red-faced sailor who had pulled him aboard from the wharf was busy
applying grease to the fore-mast.
"What's that cask for, Hamish?"
"Yon, sir? For the crows," said the man, grinning.
"What! do we shoot crows and salt them down in that tub?"
"Oh no, sir. They shoots themselves up through the bottom."
Steve stood staring at the man for a moment, and then turned away
impatiently.
"How stupid of me," he said. "I ought to have known. Crow's-nest, of
course."
He walked near to the foot of the main-mast just as the Norwegian
sailor who had been up aloft turned the tub down with its bottom
forward, went on one knee and pushed the bottom inward, one end
rising up and showing that the other side worked upon hinges.
"She'll want a little iling," said the man; then, turning the tub upright
again, the bottom fell into its place with a snap, and the man turned and
took the ball of tarred twine from McByle, and walked to the side.
"Now, boy," he said to Watty Links, "bring up that stuff."
He took hold of the shrouds, swung himself on to the bulwarks, and
began to mount the ratlines as calmly as if it were a broad staircase,
though the vessel was careening over, and rising and falling on the
swell.
"Now, my lad, up with you," said the captain. "Stop there, and hand
him the pieces as he wants them."
The boy's face wrinkled up, and he looked down at his bundle of
many-lengthed laths, then up at the top-mast, and then at the captain.

"Well, did you hear what I said, sir?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then why don't you run up?"
"The wind blaws, sir, and I dinna thenk I can haud on."
"What? Why, you