The spectator., 1919-02-21

Benumbed and wet from the icy spray, I managed to steer a course to the companionway, and dragged myself to the upper deck. A sailor was in the galley and had started a fire. The ship was rolling, pitching and lurching. In that galley 1t sound- ed like a bombardment. Pots and pans were rattling in their racks; few of them had fallen out, and were chasing each other around the deck. Cold and miserable. I crouched in the corner, keeping myself from fall ing by holding on to the rail in front 1 of the stove.
 The sailor took compassion on me, and made the toast and tea. How | he did it was marvel to me, but later on I became very expert my self.
 Following the life lines" on the upper deck, at last managed to reach the bridge with my pot of tea and two slices of toasted bread. There were two men at the wheel. In the darkness I went up to them and asked for the mate. They did not answer. Just then I received resounding smack on the back which made my | teeth rattle, and that dreaded, gruff voice of the mate reached my ears through the wind: Damn you, you hells spawn. keep away from the men at the wheel or I'll throw you over the side."
 mumbled my apologies. and fol lowed the mate into the chart house. He greedily drank the tea, and in about four bites disposed of the pieces of toast. The toast was soaked in salt water and I inwardly wished that it would poison him; in fact 1 prayed that the ship would sink with all on board. Such Is seasickness.
 I managed, somehow or other, to make my way back to the galley. and met my Superior officer" for the trip, the cookie" He was about five feet nothing in height; shriveled-up Welshman about forty-five years old. He reminded me of a mummy in the Museum of Natural History in Gen. ] tral park. If he had ever smiled l i am sure that his face would have cracked. It seemed frozen into one perpetual scowl. He gave one look at me and let out howl.
 "Blawst my headlights. an this 'ere (pointing to mel is what I'm to work with on this bloomin' passage. I'm lucky, I am, not 'arf. l ain't." He looked like some gorilla. The rolling of the ship affected him net in the least. He seemed to sway and bend with every movement of the ship.
 The next two or three days were a horrible nightmare to me. How l lived through them I do not know. l had deadly fear of the cook. As soon as he found out that I could not even boil water without burning it he started in to make my life q misery. He had habit of carrying huge butcher knife in his belt. Between meals he would sit down on bench and constantly feel the edge, at the same time telling me what an expert he was at carving. Later on found that there was a reason for his carrying this knife. He and the crew were at dag ger points. he never daring to go for ward except in case of necessity, and then he was careful always to carry his butcher knife. Down in my heart I realized that if the occasion should arise he would not be backward in demonstrating his art of carving on his opponent. That Welshman was no better cook than was, and the crew soon became aware of this fact ; hence their hostility.
 The Cushko was ''lime juicer." sailing under the English flag. The skipper was 'lime juicer," the first mate ''blue nOser." the first engineer Scotsman. while the crew was com posed of Spaniards. Italians, Square heads, Films, Swedes and Russians. The bos'n was Irish, and a firm be- liever in Home Rule. A worse gang of cutthroats could hardly be con- ceived; a nice, polite bunch they were. Believe me, Bill and had our troubles.
 Bill and were the only two Ameri- cans on board. The engineers mess man was Prussian. Karl Tatzner by name. I nicknamed him Fritz" He was only twenty years old. but was clumsy. strong as an OK and about six feet tall.
 After weathering the gale we at last came into the Gulf stream, and off the coast of Florida it was warm and pleasant.
 found that my duties were to peel spuds, wash pots and pans and be a regular fetch and carry" for the cook My office hours were from six bells in the morning (three o'clock) until fOul bells at night (ten o'clock). l was greasy and filthy at all times, having nothing but salt water to wash in, and this would not cut the grease. Bill had it much easier than I. had mur der in my heart and vowed to "jumI ship" at the first port we put into. After nine or ten days we came