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I was up in the maintop, I forget what for, when all at once there came a cry and a shout; and, when I touched deck, I saw a crowd around the fore-hatch. "What's all this noise for?" says Mr. Whitmarsh, coming up and scowling. "A stow-away, sir! A boy stowed away!" said Bob, catching the officer's tone quick enough. Bob always tested the wind well, when a storm was brewing.
If ever there was a cold-blooded, cruel man, with a wicked eye and a fist like a mallet, it was Job Whitmarsh, taken at his best. And I believe, of all the trips I've taken, him being mate of the Madonna, Kentucky found him at his worst. Bradley that's the second mate was none too gentle in his ways, you may be sure; but he never held a candle to Mr. Whitmarsh.
It reminded me of evil birds I've read of, that stun a man with their wings; strike you to the bottom, Tom, before you could say Jack Robinson. Kent stuck bravely as far as the cross-trees. There he slipped and struggled and clung in the dark and noise awhile, then comes sliding down the back-stay. "I'm not afraid, sir," says he; "but I cannot do it." For answer Whitmarsh takes to the rope's-end.
Among these were John Whitmarsh, his wife Alice, and four children; Robert Lovell, husbandman, with his good wife Elizabeth and children, two of whom, Ellen and James, were year-old twins; Edward Poole and family; Henry Kingman, Thomas Holbrook, Richard Porter, and not least of all, Zachary Bicknell, his wife Agnes, their son John, and servant John Kitchen.
So Kentucky is up again, and slips and struggles and clings again, and then lays down again. At this the men begin to grumble a little low. "Will you kill the lad?" said I. I get a blow for my pains, that sends me off my feet none too easy; and when I rub the stars out of my eyes the boy is up again, and the mate behind him with the rope. Whitmarsh stopped when he'd gone far enough.
And the next I knew I'd let slip my tongue in a jiffy, and given it to the mate that furious and onrespectful as I'll wager Whitmarsh never got before. And the next I knew after that they had the irons on me. "Sorry about that, eh?" said he, the day before they took 'em off. "No, sir," says I. And I never was. Kentucky never forgot that.
Under Hoover's direction Whitmarsh and his associates at the head of the special commodity divisions worked out the manifold details of a regulatory system which was gradually extended to a most varied assortment of foodstuffs, trades and manufactures. At the end of 1918 over 250,000 food-handling corporations, firms, and individuals were under Food Administration licenses.
Job Whitmarsh was never seen again, alow or aloft, that night or ever after. I was telling the tale to our parson this summer, he's a fair-minded chap, the parson, in spite of a little natural leaning to strawberries, which I always take in very good part, and he turned it about in his mind some time.
If it had been the whole crew overboard, she could never have stopped for them that night. "Well," said the cap'n, "you've done it now." Whitmarsh turns his back. By and by, when the wind fell, and the hurry was over, and I had the time to think a steady thought, being in the morning watch, I seemed to see the old lady in the gray bunnet setting by the fire. And the dog.
Whatever Nat proposed in Sam's understanding was right and feasible; and even if it wasn't really so, Nat would make it so.... They engaged the house and moved. Miss Ann Sophronsiba Whitmarsh, a maiden lady of forty-five or thereabouts, popularly known as "Phrony," had been coming in by the day to "do for" old Sam in the rooms above the shop.
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