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Updated: June 3, 2025
The brig which I had been on board of on many previous occasions, the Saucy Sall, of South Shields, was lying alongside the jetty in her old berth, with a plank leading up to the gangway; and, seeing a light in the fo'c's'le, I mounted up to her deck, telling Tom to follow me, making my way forwards towards the glimmer.
"Fo'c's'le, ahoy there!" yelled Masters instantly, taking advantage of the long-desired permission. "All hands take in sail!"
"Ef ye wan' t' git a bear, got t' mux 'im up a leetle for'ard right up 'n the neighborhood uv 'is fo'c's'le. Don't dew no good t' shute 'is hams. Might es well try t' choke 'im t' death by pinchin' 'is tail." We were out in the open. Roofs and smoking chimneys were silhouetted on the sky, and, halfway up a hill, we could see the candle-lights of the red tavern.
"Lor', you be green 'uns!" he cried, sinking his voice to a cautious pitch. "Don't you fight here; why, the `crushers' will nab yer afore yer can strike a blow comfortably! If fight yer must, coom up here on the fo'c's'le, and then you can fight away theer to yer 'art's content, without nobody not a-hinterfeerin' with yer!"
He hooks onto a rope loop, the same hanging from a fore-and-aft taut steel line about seven feet above deck, and when her stern rises he lifts his feet and shoots and fetches up Bam! up against the fo'c's'le break. He is forward and wants to go aft he hooks onto the loop, waits for her bow to rise, lets himself go and there he is back to her skid deck. That sounds like rough work.
Bill Nevins, my engineer, and a landsman who was to work the h'istin' engine, looked kind 'er peaked when what was left of the jib come rattlin' down on his fo'c's'le hatch, but I says to him, 'the Screamer's all right, Billy, so she don't strike nothin' and so long's we can keep the water out 'er. Can't sink 'er any more'n an empty five-gallon ker'sene can with the cork in.
"I'll just shove everything through into the fo'c's'le, and we'll leave them there for Mr. Gow. A certain amount of exercise will be good for him after his holiday." "Do," said Joyce sleepily. "And then come and sit over here, Neil. I want to stroke your hair."
An', durn me, when I went ashore next, an' at great risk managed to lay holt of a big tom and cooked it for em, hopin' to please 'em, an' went inter th' fo'c's'le arter dinner an' told 'em what I'd done, ef that self-same chap, Barton, didn't hit me over th' head wi' his tin can for tryin' ter poison 'em, as he said.
"Fo'c's'le, ahoy there!" presently shouted out Mr Mackay near me all of a sudden, making me jump round from my contemplation of the river, into which I was gazing down from over the stern, looking at the broad white foaming wake we left behind us as we glided on. "Is the bosun there?"
And as to `dunnage', why, I dare say I can make out pretty well durin' the v'yage by helpin' myself from the chests I shall find in the fo'c's'le." "Very well, then," said I, "you may come, Saunders, and welcome. Now, Miss Hartley, step in, please, and sit down while Gurney and I shove off. In with that box though, Gurney; we must not leave that behind.
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