The Skippers Wooing | Page 2

he'll have to get a fresh crew or a fresh mate. I'm sick of
it. Why, it might be a barge for all the discipline that's kept! The boy's
the only sailor among you."
He strode furiously up and down the deck; the cook disappeared into
the galley, and the two seamen began to bustle about forward. The
small expert who had raised the storm, by no means desirous of being
caught in the tail of it, put his pipe in his pocket and looked round for a
job.
"Come here!" said the mate sternly.
The boy came towards him.
"What was that you were saying about the skipper?" demanded the
other.
"I said it wasn't cargo he was after," said Henry.
"Oh, a lot you know about it!" said the mate.
Henry scratched his leg, but said nothing.

"A lot you know about it!" repeated the mate in rather a disappointed
tone.
Henry scratched the other leg.
"Don't let me hear you talking about your superior officer's affairs
again," said the mate sharply. "Mind that!"
"No, sir," said the boy humbly. "It ain't my business, o; course."
"What isn't your business?" said the mate carelessly. "His," said Henry.
The mate turned away seething, and hearing a chuckle from the galley,
went over there and stared at the cook--a wretched being with no
control at all over his feelings--for quite five minutes. In that short
space of time he discovered that the galley was the dirtiest hole under
the sun and the cook the uncleanest person that ever handled food. He
imparted his discoveries to the cook, and after reducing him to a state
of perspiring imbecility, turned round and rated the men again. Having
charged them with insolence when they replied, and with sulkiness
when they kept silent, he went below, having secured a complete
victory, and the incensed seamen, after making sure that he had no
intention of returning, went towards Henry to find fault with him.
"If you was my boy," said Sam, breathing heavily, "I'd thrash you to
within a inch of your life."
"If I was your boy I should drown myself," said Henry very positively.
Henry's father had frequently had occasion to remark that his son
favored his mother, and his mother possessed a tongue which was
famed throughout Wapping, and obtained honorable mention in distant
Limehouse.
"You can't expect discipline aboard a ship where the skipper won't let
you 'it the boy," said Dick moodily. "It's bad for 'im too."
"Don't you worry about me, my lads," said Henry with offensive

patronage. "I can take care of myself all right. You ain't seen me come
aboard so drunk that I've tried to get down the foc'sle without shoving
the scuttle back. You never knew me to buy a bundle o' forged
pawn-tickets. You never--"
"Listen to 'im," said Sam, growing purple; "I'll be 'ung for 'im yet."
"If you ain't, I will," growled Dick, with whom the matter of the
pawn-tickets was a sore subject.
"Boy!" yelled the mate, thrusting his head out at the companion.
"Coming, sir!" said Henry. "Sorry I can't stop any longer," he said
politely; "but me an' the mate's going to have a little chat."
"I'll have to get another ship," said Dick, watching the small spindly
figure as it backed down the companion-ladder. "I never was on a ship
afore where the boy could do as he liked."
Sam shook his head and sighed. "It's the best ship I was ever on, barrin'
that," he said sternly.
"What'll 'e be like when he grows up?" demanded Dick, as he lost
himself in the immensity of the conjecture. "It ain't right t' the boy to let
him go on like that. One good hidin' a week would do 'im good and us
too."
Meantime the object of their care had reached the cabin, and, leaning
against the fireplace, awaited the mate's pleasure.
"Where's the cap'n?" demanded the latter, plunging at once into the
subject.
Henry turned and looked at the small clock.
"Walkin' up and down a street in Gravesend," he said deliberately.
"Oh, you've got the second-sight, I s'pose," said the mate reddening.
"And what's he doing that for?"

"To see 'er come out," said the boy.
The mate restrained himself, but with difficulty.
"And what'll he do when she does come out?" he demanded.
"Nothin'," replied the seer with conviction. "What are you lookin' for?"
he inquired, with a trace of anxiety in his voice, as the mate rose from
the locker, and, raising the lid, began groping for something in the
depths.
"Bit o' rope," was the reply.
"Well, what did yer ask me for?" said Henry with hasty tearfulness.
"It's the truth. 'E won't do nothin'; 'e never does--only stares."
"D'you mean to say you ain't been