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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Captain, I believe that the etiquette of the merchant service requires that when a man is shanghaied on board an outward-bound ship he remains silent, does what is told him cheerfully, and submits to fate until the passage ends; but we cannot bring ourselves to do so.
"And I've come from Manitoba," added Benson, "where he's wanted for murder." The skipper turned to Rogers and said calmly, "By your own admission you are a fugitive from justice; hence, entitled to no sympathy from me." Then he turned to the two others and said, "You men put up a plausible story of being shanghaied.
You'll walk chalk, you lazy son of a sea cook, or I'll haze you till you wish you'd never been born." He punctuated his remarks with vigorous kicks. "Bully Green runs this tub, strike me dead if he don't. Now you hump for'ard and clap a hand to them sheets. Walk, you shanghaied Dutchman!" The sailor crawled away, completely cowed. For one day he had had more than enough.
He sat in his barroom, in East street, placidly knitting socks with four steel needles, and as placidly ignoring every law of God and man. He ruled the 'Frisco waterfront, did the Knitting Swede, and made his power felt to the very ends of the seas. Stories about him were without number. It was the Knitting Swede who shanghaied the corpse on board the Tam o' Shanter.
It was all so quickly done that he blinked back at the sun in a daze as though awaking from some evil dream. But his uncomfortable position soon assured him that it was a reality and he settled into a sullen rage. He had been captured as easily as a drunken sailor is shanghaied. They never paused until they lowered him like a bundle of hay within a dozen feet of where he had tethered his burros.
The impelling cause of it was rather the hope of a braver adventure happily begun. Part 2 "By Jove, I envy you, Mr. Farnum. Didn't know people bucked into adventures like that these tame days. Think of actually being shanghaied. It's like a novel. My word, the ladies will make a lion of you!" The Englishman was dragging a steamer trunk from under his bed.
"So, you've sobered up, have you?" he said. "Got the whisky out o' you?" "Wasn't whisky, Sir," answered Rogers, recognizing an officer. "I was doped and shanghaied, even though willing to ship. I'm an able seaman, Sir." "You don't look it." "Fifteen years at sea, Sir, though the last ten ashore. I'm a bit tender; but I know my work." "How about the other two? Are they sailors?"
"Got no opinions you want to hand out free, son?" "Think I'll keep them bottled." "Say 'sir, Sport!" "Yes, sir," answered Farnum, his quiet eyes steady and unafraid. "When I give an order you expect to jump?" "Jump isn't the word." "Sir!" thundered Green, and "Sir" the newspaper man corrected himself. "Got no story to spiel about being shanghaied, son?" "Would it do any good, sir?"
“I know it,” admitted Eph. “But it will also keep the rascals from dumping my friends overboard without our catching ’em at it.” “What do you think the men in charge of that boat are, sir—pirates?” “They’re mighty close to it, if they’ve shanghaied Mr. Benson and Mr. Hastings and put to sea with ’em,” rejoined Eph. Then he rang for more speed. Down below, Williamson almost instantly responded.
Painfully raising himself on one elbow he looked around and caught sight of a man in the bunk across. It was Johnny Nelson! Then, bit by bit, the whole thing came to him and he cursed heartily as he reviewed it and reached the only possible conclusion. He was at sea! He, Hopalong Cassidy, the best fighting unit of a good fighting outfit, shanghaied and at sea!
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