The Measure of a Man | Page 3

twice. I used to take them on my road to Iceland. It
is a wayless way there, but I know it. And the people are a happy,
comfortable, pious lot; they are that! Most of them whale-hunters and
whale-eaters."
"Eaters?"
"To be sure, sir. When it is fresh, a roast of whale isn't half bad. I once
tried it myself."
"Once?"
"Well, then, I didn't want it twice. You know, I'm beef-bred. That
makes a difference, sir. I like to go to lonely islands, and as a general
thing I favor the kind of people that live on them."
"What is the difference between these lonely islanders and Yorkshire
men like you and me?"
"There is a good bit of difference, in more ways than one, sir. For
instance, they aren't fashionable. The women mostly dress the same,

and there are no stylish shapes in the men's 'oils' and guernseys. Then,
they call no man 'master.' God is their employer, and from His hand
they take their daily bread. And they don't set themselves up against
Him, and grumble about their small wages and their long hours. And if
the weather is bad, and they are kept off a sea that no boat could live in,
they don't grumble like Yorkshire men do, when warehouses are
overstocked and trade nowhere, and employers hev to make shorter
hours and less pay."
"What then?"
"The men smoke a few more pipes, and the women spin a few more
hanks of wool. And in the long evenings there's a good bit of
violin-playing and reciting, but there's no murmuring against their
Great Master. And there's no drinking, or dance halls. And when the
storm is over, the men untie their boats with a shout and the women
gladly clean up the stour of the idle time."
"Did you ever see a Yorkshire strike?"
"To be sure I hev; I had my say at the Hatton strike, I hed that! You
were at college then, and your father was managing it, so we could not
take the yacht out as expected, and I run down to Hatton to hev a talk
with Stephen Hatton. There was a big strike meeting that afternoon,
and I went and listened to the men stating 'their grievances.' They
talked a lot of nonsense, and I told them so. 'Get all you can rightly,' I
said, 'but don't expect Stephen Hatton or any other cotton lord to run
factories for fun. They won't do it, and you wouldn't do it yersens!'"
"Did they talk sensibly?"
"They talked foolishness and believed it, too. It was fair capping to
listen to them. There was some women present, slatterns all, and I told
them to go home and red up their houses and comb up their hair, and
try to look like decent cotton-spinners' wives. And when this advice
was cheered, the women began to get excited, and I thought I would be
safer in Hatton Hall. Women are queer creatures."

"Were you ever married, Captain?"
"Not to any woman. My ship is my wife. She's father and mother and
brother and sister to me. I have no kin, and when I see how much
trouble kin can give you, I don't feel lonely. The ship I sail--whatever
her name--is to me 'My Lady,' and I guard and guide and cherish her all
the days of her life with me."
"Why do you say 'her life,' Captain?"
"Because ships are like women--contrary and unreasonable. Like
women they must be made to answer the rudder, or they go on the
rocks. There are, of course, men-of-war, and they get men's names, and
we give them fire and steel to protect themselves, but when your yacht
with sails set, goes curtsying over the waves like a duchess, you know
she's feminine, and you wouldn't call her after your father or yourself,
but your sweetheart's name would be just suitable, I'm sure."
John smiled pleasantly, and his silence encouraged the Captain to
continue. "Why, sir, the very insurance offices speak of a ship as she,
and what's more they talk naturally of the 'life and death of a ship,' and
I can tell you, sir, if you had ever seen a ship fight for her life and go
down to her death, you would say they were right. Mr. Hatton, there is
no sadder sight than a ship giving up the fight, because further fight is
useless. Once I was present at the death of a ship. I pray God that I may
never see the like again. Her captain and her men had left her alone,
and from the boats standing abaft, they silently watched her sinking. Sir,
many a man dies in his bed with all his kin around, and does not carry
as much