J. Allan Dunn

“ So the spirit of discontent brooded and trouble was hatched under the shining, windy sky as the ship fled north. and the porpoises gambolled in her wake. And so a lad dreamed of high traditions of the service, handed down to him, and thought that he could work the miracle the steward declared necessary.
There are times when-a miracle is the direct answer to prayer and often the most effective prayer needs no voicing. Clean thought engenders prayer without petition.
Ben crouched to dodge or receive the blow he felt was imminent from the mate's uplifting arm and the red flecks in his eyes. ”

“ The first mate twisted about the beaded bag.
“It's for your chewing, sir,” said Ben.
Simpkins had a recollection of having seen the canvas bag before. Remembrance grew plain. He swore softly under his breath, not in a curse but in forgiven condemnation of his eyes.
Ben, his spirit mounting, as the mercury mounts, when the temperature turns from cold to warmth; produced the tobacco stopper, explained its use. Hansen took it and held it in the palm of his hand.
The captain stood upright.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “the lad wishes us a Merry Christmas, and he gives us his best gifts. ”

“ All he lacked was greater strength to control the windful canvas and that was coming to him for he fared well enough in the galley where the cook by turns abused him and made a pet of him in a rough way.
“The lad's a born sailor,” he would tell the crew. “Wait till he gits length an' strength, he'll crowd the best of ye!”
Such praise was music, lightening the hundred tasks below deck, the work in cabin and galley, the bedmaking, sweeping, dishwashing and serving.
The skipper took scant notice of him. The mates sometimes vented their ill humor on him but his willingness spared him a lot. ”

“ IT was plain enough, even to Ben, that the ship was nearing the condition known to old salts as a “sour ship”. First, the trouble between the officers and, last, the word that Christmas privileges were not to be recognised had brought about an atmosphere that was as dangerous as chokedamp in a coal mine, trick as dynamite. When men grow silent and brood over their troubles there is bound to be an accumulation of compressed resentment that is ripe for explosion. ”

“ Ben heard them sniggering about the “dressing-down” the old man had given the first. A matter of judgment as to a change of sails in a midnight shift of wind. The mate had resented it and taken it out on his watch and the skipper, who had not turned in, rounded on him. Ben had heard that.
“I'll not have the men hazed, Mister,” said the skipper. “I need no bucko mate aboard this ship. I do my own bullying.”
“There's no doubt about that,” the mate muttered, a thought too loudly and Captain Bedford had turned on him. ”

“ A Merry Christmas to you, Simpkins, and to you Hansen.”
He shook hands with them. Then with the steward and, last of all, with Ben. The air in the cabin seemed sweeter, purer.
“The lad tells me,” said the captain. “That the island off our beam is Robinson Crusoe's island. I had almost forgotten that, too. Mr. Simpkins, if a breeze comes, head up for it. The men might like to spend Christmas ashore. Steward, see that the cook is given supplies for a good dinner. Tell the cook to do his best. That's all, gentlemen, except our breakfast. Ben, I'll have a word with you later.” ”

“ I wanted to be a sailor, like my father.”
“And like your father you shall be. I knew him. You've the makings. We'll ship a boy at Lima. We'll change your rating, Ben. To apprentice.”
Captain Bedford had not looked forward eagerly to the meeting at the mast.
When that meeting came the crew appeared shamefaced. Word had gone out from the galley. Already there were savors of holiday fare about the ship. It was the cook who saved the situation with a word in the old quartermaster's ear.
“What is it men?” asked Captain Bedford, dressed in his best serge and braid. ”

“ Small things count on shipboard where one man may not get away from another.
The cook and the steward, wisemen both as far as experience went, their heads and whispered together.
“'Twill be luck if we make port 'thout bad trouble,” said the cook.
“An' there's no sayin' will it break fore or aft,” agreed the steward. “Simpkins is sour, an' he's packin' a gun. The skipper bawled him out in front of all hands an' threatened to disrate him an' send him for'ard. Simpkins 'll not be peaceful. There'll be blood spilled first, you mark my words.” ”

“ You'll keep your course, Mr. Simpkins. And you will kindly find something else for your men to do than loll on the rail.”
The skipper swept the horizon and focussed his glasses briefly on the land then went below as the mate, almost black with anger, set the crew to work. Ordinarily the deck would be specially holystoned for Christmas, the brasswork polished to a special dazzle. ”

“ The crew went off deck sullen and mounted to their work in the same disaffected fashion
The second mate relieved the first so that the latter might breakfast with the captain. The two officers met without a word or nod. The steward pursed his lips and shook his head sagely at Ben in the pantry. Ben could feel the tension between the two men. A gathering hatred in the mate. Hardening determination in the skipper to enforce the full extent of his authority, also full knowledge of the attitude of the men. ”

“ You can meet me at the Commissioner's in an hour. You'll get eight dollars a month and food.”
Ben did not know where the Commissioner's was. He waited, watching Simpkins oversee the lading of the ship, running errands for him, and, when the skipper went ashore, he trailed him.
“Wait here,” said Captain Bedford, as he saw Ben at his heels by the office door. What he said to the Commissioner Ben did not guess but he was not asked any questions about his folks, relieving the fear that they had power to drag him back. That night he helped the steward to serve supper in the cabin. ”

“ He hauled his cot and insufficient bedding close to the central chimney, hugging its warmth, supplementing his covering with odds and ends of old clothing, rummaged from the attic trunks. There was an old pea-jacket of his fathers that did more than keep him warm. ”

“ All the misterin' in the world, an' politeness so thick that it's an insult.”
Ben had seen and sensed all this too, as he helped the steward and the cook and listened to fragments of their talk together.
“Blood spilled—mutiny on the high seas!” His father had told him such things, the shame and disgrace of all seamen. Already there were covert looks between the men. The first mate's watch had drawn apart. The trouble in the cabin was reflected in the foc'stle. ”