The Third R. Austin Freeman Megapack. R. Austin Freeman
Читать онлайн книгу.
and swearing lions. Today there are six meek and rather sleepy lambs—I saw them just before breakfast. It is you who have produced this miraculous change, and I want to know how you did it. No sketchy evasions, you know. I want a clear, intelligible narrative.”
“It isn’t a very suitable occasion for a long yarn,” he objected. “Don’t you think we ought to go on deck and keep an eye on the old man?”
“Perhaps we ought,” she agreed. “But I’m not going to let you off the story, you know. That is understood, isn’t it?”
He gave a reluctant assent, and when she had fetched her pith helmet from her cabin and he had borrowed a Panama hat of Redford’s, they ascended together to the deck.
The scene was reminiscent of ‘The Ancient Mariner.’ The blazing sun shone down on a sea that seemed to be composed of oil, so smooth and unruffled was its surface. The air was absolutely still, and the old brigantine wallowed foolishly as the great, glassy rollers swept under her, her sails alternately filling and backing with loud, explosive flaps as the masts swung from side to side, and her long main-boom banging across with a heavy jar at each roll. Sam Winter stood at the wheel in a posture of easy negligence (but he straightened up with a jerk as Osmond’s head rose out of the companion-hood); the rest of the crew, excepting Jim Darker, lounged about drowsily forward; and the skipper appeared to be doing sentry-go before a row of green gin-cases that were ranged along the side of the caboose. He looked round as the newcomers arrived on deck, and pointing to the cases, addressed Osmond.
“These boxes of poison belong to you, I understand. I can’t have them lying about here.”
“Better stow them in the lazarette when I’ve checked the contents,” replied Osmond.
“I can’t have intoxicating liquors in my lazarette. This is a temperance ship. I’ve a good mind to chuck ’em overboard.”
“All right,” said Osmond. “You pay me one pound four, and then you can do what you like with them.”
“Pay!” shrieked the captain. “I pay for this devil’s elixir! I traffic in strong drink that steals away men’s reason and turns them into fiends! Never! Not a farthing!”
“Very well,” said Osmond, “then they had better go below. Here, you, Simmons and Bradley, bear a hand with those cases. Will you see them stowed away in the lazarette, Miss Burleigh?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the latter replied, touching her helmet smartly; whereupon the two men, with delighted grins, pounced upon two of the cases, while Miss Burleigh edged up close to Osmond.
“What on earth is the lazarette?” she whispered, “and where shall I find it?”
“Under the cuddy floor,” he whispered in reply. “The trap is under the table.”
As the two seamen picked up their respective loads and went off beaming, followed by Miss Burleigh, the captain stood gazing open-mouthed. “Well, I’m—I’m—sure!” he exclaimed, at length. “What do you mean by giving orders to my crew? And I said I wouldn’t have that gin in my lazarette.”
“Can’t leave it about for the men to pinch. You’ll have them all drunk again. And what about the watches? We can’t have the regular port and starboard watches until you are fit again. Better do as I suggested. Let me keep on deck during the night, and you take charge during the day. Miss Burleigh can relieve you if you want to go below.”
“I’ll have no women playing the fool on my ship,” snapped the skipper; “but as to you, I don’t mind your staying on deck at night if you undertake to call me up when you get into a mess—as you certainly will.”
“Very well,” said Osmond, “we’ll leave it at that. And now you’d better come below and let me attend to your bandages. There’s nothing to do on deck while this calm lasts.”
The skipper complied, not unwillingly; and when Osmond had very gently and skilfully renewed the dressings and rebandaged the injured arm and head—the captain reclining in his bunk for the purpose—he retired, leaving his patient to rest awhile with the aid of the Commentary On the Book of Job.
As soon as he arrived on deck, he proceeded definitely to take charge. The stowage of the gin was now completed and the crew were once more collected forward, gossiping idly but evidently watchful and expectant of further developments from the ‘after-guard.’ Osmond hailed them in a masterful tone. “Here, you men, get a pull on the main-sheet and stop the boom from slamming. Haul her in as taut as she’ll go.”
The men came aft with ready cheerfulness, and as Osmond cast off the fall of the rope and gave them a lead, they tailed on and hauled with a will until the sheet-blocks were as close as they could be brought. Then, when the rope had been belayed, Osmond turned to the crew and briefly explained the arrangements for working the ship in her present, short-handed state.
“So you understand,” he concluded, “I am the mate for the time being, and Miss Burleigh is taking the duties of the second mate. Is that clear?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” was the reply, accompanied by the broadest of grins, “we understands, sir.”
“Who is the cook?” inquired Osmond.
“Bill Foat ’as been a-doin’ the cookin’, sir,” Simmons explained.
“Then he’d better get on with it. Whose watch on deck is it?”
“Starboard watch, sir,” replied Simmons; “that’s me and Winter and Darker.”
“I must have a look at Darker,” said Osmond. “Meanwhile you take the wheel, and you, Winter, keep a lookout forward. I haven’t heard the ship’s bell sounded this morning.”
“No, sir,” Winter explained. “The clock in the companion has stopped and none of us haven’t got the time.”
“Very well,” said Osmond. “I’ll wind it up and start it when I make eight bells.”
The routine of the duties being thus set going, Osmond went forward and paid a visit to the invalid in the forecastle, with the result that Jim Darker presently appeared on deck with a clean bandage and a somewhat sheepish grin. Then the chief officer turned his attention to the education of his subordinate, observed intently by six pairs of inquisitive eyes.
“I think, Miss Burleigh,” he said, “you had better begin by learning how to take an observation. Then you will be able to do something that the men can’t, as an officer should. Do you know anything about mathematics?”
“As much as is necessary, I expect. I took second class honours in maths. Will that do?”
“Of course it will. By the way, where did you take your degree?”
Oxford—Somerville, you know.”
“Oh,” said Osmond, rather taken aback. “When were you up at Oxford?”
She regarded him with a mischievous smile as she replied: “After your time, I should say. I only came down a year ago.”
It was, of course, but a chance shot. Nevertheless, Osmond hastily reverted to the subject of observations. “It is quite a simple matter to take the altitude of the sun, and you work out your results almost entirely from tables. You will do it easily the first time. I’ll go and get Redford’s sextant, or better still, we might go below and I can show you how to use a sextant and how to work out your latitude.”
“Yes,” she agreed eagerly, “I would sooner have my first lesson below. Our friends here are so very interested in us.”
She bustled away down to the cabin, and Osmond, following, went into his berth, whence he presently emerged with two mahogany cases and a portly volume, inscribed ‘Norie’s Navigation.’
“I’ve found the second mate’s sextant as well as Redford’s, so we can have one each,” he said, laying them on the table with the volume. “And now let us get to work. We mustn’t stay here