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Updated: June 8, 2025
When he got to sea he would find his crew composed chiefly of the very scum of the waterside, a mode of unlicked, lawless ruffians, and his bucko mates would need all their prowess to keep them subordinate. Hazing such a mob was the only way to manage them. Also, it made them run away and leave their wages behind. But there were degrees of "heat" in the hell-ships.
They began to bluster openly about what they could do and would do; they began to tell each other how easy it would be to "dump 'em over, and take charge o' the hooker." That's the sort they were. It took bucko methods to keep them decent. Blackie and Boston were plainly jubilant over this turn of events.
Always, after the first day out, did the foc'sle bunks contain a miserable wretch or two laid up because of a manhandling. Yet we of the starboard watch were comparatively lucky. Mister Lynch, our officer, was what I may call a normal bucko. He hazed for the results rather than for the pleasure of hazing, though I think he did get some satisfaction out of thumping the men.
It did not help young Nils. But nothing could have helped Nils. The bucko had done his work too well. Not once did the boy rally; daily and visibly his life ebbed. You must understand the callous indifference of the afterguard to realize its effect upon the foc'sle. The boy lay dying for weeks, and not once did the Captain come forward to look at him.
A moment later a man came from the cabin and stood by Lynch's side. Here was a true bucko, even my addled wits sensed that. A human gorilla, with a battered face and brutal, pitiless mouth the dreaded Fitzgibbon, "chief kicker" of the Golden Bough. Mister "Fitz" regarded us with a sneering smile. "Huh, stewed to the gills! What did you dope 'em with, Swede?" he said.
I'm through with him after this cruise. I've only kept him on as long as I have because Mr. Parmalee wanted it so. But he finds another berth as soon as we reach New York." "I've noticed him talking to some of the men a good deal," remarked Tyke. "That's another thing that's worried me," said the captain. "Up to now, Ditty has always been a good bucko mate and has kept the men at a distance.
'Tis not f'r lack iv opportunities I'm here alone, I tell ye that me bucko, f'r th' time was whin th' sound iv me feet'd brings more heads to th' windies iv Ar-rchey r-road thin'd bob up to see ye'er fun'ral go by. An' that's manny a wan." "Ah, well," said Mr. Hennessy, "I was but jokin' ye."
If I shipped, I should be famous the world around as the fellow who feared neither God, nor Devil, nor Yankee Swope and his bucko mates! So I stood there, half wishful, half afraid, deaf to all save my own swirling thoughts. And there happened that which gave me my decision. It was the man with the scar.
Joshua Higgins by name, a seaman by profession and pull, but a pot-wolloper by capacity, he was a loose-jointed, sniffling creature, heartless and selfish and cowardly, without a soul, in fear of his life of Dan Cullen, and a bully over the sailors, who knew that behind the mate was Captain Cullen, the lawgiver and compeller, the driver and the destroyer, the incarnation of a dozen bucko mates.
The bucko mates usually contented themselves with working the men at top speed, depriving them of their afternoon watches below, and thumping the stiffs, because they were lubberly at their work. This treatment was sufficiently severe to produce the desired results. This was normal hell-ship style. The few sailors, in the crew, providing they were willing, rarely received more than verbal abuse.
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