Forest City press. (Forest City, Potter County, D.T. [S.D.]) 1883-19??, 1907-07-11
Hand 1T up here" the skipper com.

iii'i Silcl
The burly donkeyman. half grinning,
half afraid. came up the iron steps and
handed the captain a box painted to
look like a knob of coal. 1t was
ticking when l picked 1t up, sir" he
said, but when l handled it the tick
ing stopped"
The captain took the thing in his
hand. 1t started on a fresh cluck.
cluck, and the grimy men on the iron
decks below bumped their shoulders
as though to better receive a blow
and began to shuttle away toward the
bows. "Oh. it may be something dam
gerous," said Captain Kettle and hove
his burden over the side. "or it mayn't.
Looked to me like Il toy to brighten
flats. There's only one man with the
pluck of a roach among you. and here's
half II crown for him"
{, The donkeyman's black fOrefinger
knuckled his greasy cap.
AS for the rest, your mothers must
nave sucked you on pigeons milk and
then sent you to Il girls school to dry
nurse. You pack of beauties. oh. you
white livered bobby hunted gems! II
the thing was found-well. found it
was. and the donkeyman brought it or
deck. What do you want to foul the
clean air with your foul. Sinking car
casses before the watch was out? I'll
log every man of you for this-yes.
Mr.. Mct'ee and Mr.. Second and Mr..
Third. I'll dirty your tickets for you
as well. and If you give me another
ounce OF bother III take you none Of
you never get another berth SO long
as the universe holds water to carry
shipping. You cowardly hounds! oh,
you trust me-"
The men skunk back into the alley
way again out of shot of the skipper's
tongue. and the engineers. plucking up
COURAGE first, led the way below. Some
one clattered a shovel on a firebar.
Instinct made the trimmers obey the
signal and they went to the bunkers.
h firemen ollowed and the steam
aug remounted before 1t had received
any appreciate check. 1t was all an
affair of five minutes.
Kettle passed a fOref1nger around the
inside of his shirt collar and strolled
across with Cambel to where the deck
chairs straddled in the shade.
They're a holy crew. aren't they?"
said the master OF the Port Edes.
Il think they're what we want. We
should be rather out of it with a plucky
lot who insisted on standing by us
at a pinch"
"Oh. don't you make any error about
that" replied Kettle. They'd have
been shaky anyway. but this bogus
clockMork devil yours -hxes-them-to-
a nicely. It'll be every Jack for him.
self when the scare ONES and Davy
Jones k the steamer and the 9TH
ers. Oh, they'll run like u warren OF
rabbits. The brutes!"
Kettle broke off abruptly and stared
moodtly over the gulf stream. A flying
fish got out of the blue water and ran
across the ripples like a silver rat. A
school of porpoises snorted leisurely
up from astern and passed the steamer
as though she had been at anchor. And
the tangles of gulf weed fioated past
like reefs OF tawny coral.
do YOU ever read nOatry2" tho skin.
per suddenly asked.
Cambel slowed round his head and
stared. The idea of his vinegar
mouthed little savag talking of poetry
very nearly made him break into wild
laughter. With an effort he steadied
his face n said quietly. "Sometimes.'
I'm glad Of that. Somehow l hadn't
dared ask you before, but now l know,
Mr.. Cambel, l like o all the better.
1t gives us something in common we
talk about without being ashamed.
We very we'll discuss the other
matter which binds us together and
respect ourselves at the same time"
Quite right. You and 1. captain, are
shouldered to common piracy by the
force of circumstances. but I always
kick myself when 1 think about it.
There's no glamour of about
intended villainy or the way it's
being led up to-"
Not a bit. Byron wrote about
piracy, but Byron was no and
he didn't know wha hazing q crew
meant. A thief's a dirty scoundrel all
the world over and always has been,
and a sea thief. having the scum Of the
earth to handle. has to make himself
the cruelest brute on earth if he wants
to succeed. ! think it's that which put.
me out of liking with Byron and all
those poets who've written about
movement at sea-. They give a wrong
idea of mems motives and actions, and
when they get talking on shop they're
that inaccurate and absurd they make
one tired. No. Mr.. Cambel. give me a
land poet. who talks about farms and
primroses and tinkling brooks and
things he understands. and with that
man can sit through two watches on
end. Reading him may make me feel
low. but it doesn't do a man harm to
be tnat way sometimes. You see. Mr..
Ca'nbel. a scuff1e or a row with a
nluttnouS crew is just meat and drink
to me: Yes. sir. that's the kind Of
brute I am"
They chatted and basked during he
rest of h afternoon. while the two
mates of watch painted ironwork. and
the crew OFF duty grumbled and smoked
ana slept In the stuffy forecastle. The
cabin tea came. Kettle at the head OF
the table preserved a sour silence, and
Cambel and the mates among them a
strained civility. And then skipper and
supernumerary officer returned to their
canvas beside the fiddle on he bridge
deck.
The gulf stream rippled over the
wake astern. and the small
waveletr Of a calm licked the yellow,
rust stains which patched her sweeping
TANK. Before e the narrow sea vas
the color Of a dull blue roofing slate.
The bright hot day had faded. the
brilliant cobalt had filtered away from
overhead. n a silver nail pairing Of
moon peered from a sky Of amorphous
violet. still! lighted In its. higher flats
by h sun afterglow. On the horizon
line was what first appeared to he a