The Gold Ship: a nineteenth century yarn of the sea, etc

Front matter

THE GOLD SHIP " Can you take a boy aboard your ship, sir?" — Page i. Frontispiece. THE GOLD SHIP A NINETEENTH CENTURY YARN OF THE SEA BV F. M. HOLMES AUTHOR OF *N "RAFF'S RANCHE,' "HUGH MELVILLE'S QUEST," ETC. ILL USTRA TED LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, AND COMPANY LIMITED St. JDunstan'S ipouse Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.C. 1S97 Printed by Bali.antvne, Hanson Co. At the Ballantyne Press CONTENTS PAGE I. "KEEP IT DARK FROM THE CREW " . I II. THE GOLD PLOT . . . . .11 III. THE IRISH COOK . . . . .21 IV. THE EXPLOSION . . . . -31 V. THE OIL SHIP ..... 40 VI THE BATTLE IN THE GALLEY . . 49 VII. THE MAD CAPTAIN .... 59 VIII. THE BUCKET ABOVE THE HATCHWAY . 69 IX. SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE "ANNE BOLEYN " . . . . . .So X. "MATEY" . . . . . 91 XI. THE GHOST OF THE HIGH SEAS . . 104 XII. STRANGE DOINGS ON THE "ANNE BOLEYN " 114 XIII.

IMPRISONED IN THE " FREEZER " . . 126 XIV. PUZZLED BY JACK . . . . -133 XV. SLUNG OVERBOARD . . . .142 XVI. FOULING THE SCREW . . . 1 52 v CONTENTS vi PAGB XVII. THE HOSTAGE . . . . .162 XVIII. A BOAT OF THE DEAD . . . I 76 XIX. RUGGLES' ADVENTURE . . . 187 XX. DEAD OR ALIVE . . . • 207 XXI. A WAVE-WORN CREW . . 2l8 XXII. MANŒUVRING . . . . .229 XXIII. THE FIGHT IN THE BOATS . 243 XXIV. THE REBEL CAPTAIN .... 252 XXV. JACK BRAMPTON EARNS DISTINCTION . 262 XXVI. TROUBLE BELOW. . . . 27 1 XXVII. A NOVEL USE FOR A FIRE-ENGINE . 282 XXVIII. "ME OWN BROTH AV A BHOY " . 29 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ''Can you take a Boy Aboard your Ship, Sir?" Frontispiece " The Onions were Flying all over the Deck" To face page 19 " I will Kill that Scoundrel who Fired my Ship !" ,, 60 Imprisoned in the "Freezer" ... „ 128 "I will have this 'ere Painting done," cried Eli roughly .... „ 145 "Why, bless me, 'tis the Frenchman!" . ,, 208 The Fight in the Boats .... ,, 244 "No Wonder she would not Work Properly" ,, A YARN OF THE SEA

Chapter I

" KEEP IT DARK FROM THE CREW " " Can you take a boy aboard your ship, sir ? The captain looked at the bright, eager face before him, rubbed his chin, which was well covered with a strong iron-grey beard, and then said slowly, and in a hoarse voice roughened by many a storm, — " No, my lad, nothing for boys to do aboard my ship." "Couldn't you take one of us?" pleaded the boy. " We are both of us strong and hearty, and can pull a good stroke in a boat." " Ah, boy, we could not trust you to look out, or take a turn at the wheel." "Oh yes, my eyesight is first-rate," cried the lad, "and I know the difference between port and starboard." A " Humph ! looked it up in the. dictionary, I s'pose," laughed the captain. " No, no, my lad, we don't take raw boys now." But the stalwart man of the sea stood still and looked at the lads— for there were two of them, though only one had spoken — as though loath to part with them.

" You would make a couple o' fine young sea men in a year or two's time," said he. " Shame for you to be cooped up in a stuffy room ashore." " Couldn't you take us ? " pleaded the first boy again — he indeed who had been spokesman for the two — "we will work hard." " Can you do aught of cooking ? " asked the captain. " Cooking ! " exclaimed the lad in surprise, not unmixed with a trace of disappointment in his tone. " Ay, d'ye think we did without cooking aboard ship, lad ? We must eat food, and that food we have to cook. Now, would you go into the cook's galley?" " Oh ! " and the boy's face showed his disap pointment ; " but, of course, I would go that way for a beginning," he added. " I don't mind being cook-boy," said the other lad^ At that moment a smartly dressed young man, resplendent in blue cloth and brass buttons, hurried up to the captain and muttered in a low voice, yet loud enough for the two boys to hear — " The gold has come, sir. " Ay ; I will be there immediately," said the captain, moving forward at once.

" Now, boys, I can perhaps take one of you in the cook's galley for a voyage. We're bound to Rio and back. Five shillings a month and, of course, your board." " If you are smart," he continued, as the lads hurried on with him as he walked, "you might get handy enough to become a young deck-hand in a year or so at a pound a month." Then turning to the new-comer he asked in a slightly subdued voice — "Are those fellows still hanging about, West combe ?" " Ay, ay, sir ; but a little farther off than before." " Umph ! well, we shall have to chance it. Get the gold aboard as quietly as possible. But keep it dark from the crew. I know nought about some of the fellows we've got aboard." " Westcombe ! " exclaimed the bright-faced boy who had been speaking to the captain. "Why, I knew you at school two or three years ago.

Don't you remember me, Westcombe ? " The young officer turned sharply round and looked keenly at the bright-faced, eager lad, who was dressed in shabby clothes, and his legs were too long for his patched and short trousers. One minute of hesitancy, then he beat down the proud inclination to ignore this poorly-dressed old friend, and held out his hand. " Joe Carver," he cried. " Why, of course I remember you. Do you want to go to sea ? Why not go aboard the training-ship that I did ? Now I am a junior officer." " Can't afford it," cried Joe ; " my father has lost all his money." " Oh, scissors ! — as we used to say at school — that is bad. And are you on your own hook ? " "Yes, quite; though, of course, I sleep at home while I am knocking about for something to do. But if I could only get my board and lodging and could learn something " "Twould be a help.

Well, Joe, we don't have untrained boys on our ship." " So the captain has been saying. But he will take a lad in the cook's galley, and my friend here, Jack Brampton, would not mind that." " Hist ! Westcombe," called the captain, who had moved a few steps in advance, "sparkle up and just see those chests aboard. Those rascals, I see, are still hanging about too near." "Ay, ay, sir," answered Westcombe briskly, as he hurried forward. " Good-bye, Joe. Keep on trying till you get a berth," he cried. " Now, lads," said the captain, turning to the two boys, "you must decide quickly if you are going. We sail with the next tide — say in six hours' time. And I really do not care much about taking a boy." " But have you only room for one of us, sir ? asked Joe. " Couldn't you take us both ? " " Only one," said the captain sharply and de cidedly.

" In fact, I have scarce room for one. What can you really do, and what are you fit for ? And do your parents agree to your going ? " But before Joe could reply, the captain, who was looking keenly ahead to a ship which was being loaded, cried aloud — " Hi there ! stand aside, you men ! " And he hurried on fast, leaving the two boys behind. " It will be an awful rush," exclaimed Brampton. " I should have to go home and get back at once with my togs. Won't my folks be surprised ! We have talked about my going to sea often ; and now to go off at a moment's notice." "And so have we," said Joe. "But which of us two is going ? " "Let us toss up," suggested Brampton, with remembrances of a similar manœuvre at school boy games. Joe produced a penny and spun it in the air. "Tails !" cried Brampton, as the coin fell and Joe caught it and hid it between his hands.

Then he opened his palms. It was "tails," and Brampton had won. " Let us try again," said he. Again the time-honoured method of drawing lots was gone through, and again Brampton won. "Yes, it is your chance," said Joe. "You go and get the berth ; you said you did not mind being cook's-boy. I will try elsewhere." And he turned slowly away. " But if he should not engage me," cried Brampton, " you might have a chance ; so look in again presently. Let me see ! Which is his ship ?" "That one, I expect," replied Joe, pointing to the steamer near which the men were still loiter ing. "That is where the captain went." , Brampton slowly walked forward. "The Anne Boleyn she is called," he cried, as he drew nearer and spelled out her name on the bows. " Come back soon," he added, "just to see if I get the berth and to say good-bye."

Joe watched him disconsolately for a few moments and then turned away. He was dis appointed, though he had not relished sailing as cook-boy ; but now even that chance seemed better than nothing at all. He was strolling in one of the large docks of London, and there was plenty to engage his at tention ; but he looked on with languid interest, for there seemed no place for him in all this large interesting life, and depression was weigh ing heavily on his eager young spirit. He and his friend Brampton had been walking about the docks for days seeking a berth aboard a steamer. " Shall I try Brown's Home ?" said he. " I have been there often enough to no purpose ; but the luck may change to-day." And almost unconsciously his steps began to wander in the direction of the Home. This was the popular name of a shipping-office where articles of agreement between master and crew were signed ; and boys or junior hands hanging about there might sometimes obtain an opportunity of picking up a berth.

" I suppose I shall not get one," he sighed. " Everything seems against me, somehow or other. But I will try for a cook-boy's berth if nothing else." He reached the place in due course, and found as usual a number of men and boys waiting about ; but of captains, or any representatives of owners likely to engage him, he saw not a sign. Presently a word fell on his ear that caused him to listen intently. "There's gold took aboard the Anne Boleyn, I tell ye. Now, do we mean to get it, or do we not ? that's what you've got to answer." " It will be a tough job." " O' course it will; and you will have to be smarter than you were this afternoon, or we shall get nothing. Hist ! that cursed boy is listening." And the man — a lean-faced, low-browed fellow with shifty eyes and a thin-lipped cruel mouth, lurched up to Joe, and grasping his shoulder, hissed in his ear — " Did you ketch what I said ?"

" Find out ! " exclaimed Joe angrily, as he wrenched himself free and gazed fearlessly at the man. The words were boyish enough, for Joe had not many months left the playground, but the flash of the eye, the frown of the brow, and the look of determined resolution on the face told far more than his words. " I'll cut your heart out if you don't answer," cried the man, seizing the boy again. "Tut, tut! come aft; don't be a blundering fool," exclaimed his companions, and one seizing him on either arm, they dragged him away. Several of the men near were thoroughly honest and respectable seamen, and their looks of disgust expressed their feelings. " He's a bit drunk," explained his companions, somewhat apologetically. " Come away, Eli ; 'tain't no good waitin' here." And the three sheered off. Joe looked after them in amazement, then slowly, as the full force of the words he had heard began to break upon him, he began to consider if he should seek out the captain of the Anne Boleyn, and tell him what had oc curred.

" What was it, sonny ? " asked a decent-looking sailor near. " He wanted to know if I had overheard some thing he had said to his mates." "And had you ?" "Yes, I had," owned the boy. " What was it, to anger him so ? " " I don't know that I ought to tell." "They are the same men as have been hanging about the Anne Boleyn, I'm thinking." io THE GOLD SHIP "Are they, indeed ?" cried Joe eagerly. "Are you sure ? Then I must tell the captain." And he turned hastily to retrace his steps. "Hallo there!" cried a voice. "Are you the boy that has been looking out for a berth ? "

Chapter II The Gold Plot Joe

stopped abruptly and looked round at the speaker. " Yes, I want a berth," said he. " But now* "There is no time to lose if you're going," said the other. " One of the hands has turned nasty, and won't sail, so the skipper has moved two or three up, and wants a tidy, strong lad in the vacant place." " How long before you start ? " "Three hours, maybe. There is no time to get a boy from a training-ship. But take it or leave it, which you like." " I will go," exclaimed Joe resolutely. " I will be there to time." "That's your sort. I thought I'd get a chap at Brown's Home. Now hurry up, and see the skipper. Rosario 's the ship's name. She lies in yonder dock. See her blue Peter flying, eh ? " Joe made his way to the ship at once, and found the captain of the Rosario worried with a half-drunken crew, and ready to employ any THE GOLD SHIP 12 strong lad who seemed likely to suit ; so that Joe speedily found himself engaged, chiefly to assist the cook, at five shillings a month.

He hurried home at once with the good news. His parents had been expecting day after day that he might get a berth, and therefore they were not altogether unprepared for his sudden success. Yet now that the wrench of parting had actually come, it was very sharp, and Joe had hard work to gulp down his emotion when returning to the ship. But he had plenty to occupy his mind. " How can I reveal this gold plot to the Anne Boleyn," thought he, as he hurried along. " I must do it somehow. I will scribble a note to Jack Brampton, and tell him of the gold plot, and where I am engaged, and charge him to acquaint his captain ; perhaps I can get this letter aboard the Anne Boleyn. If time permits, I will go round by that vessel." But time did not permit, and the state of affairs he found on his own ship almost drove the gold plot out of his mind.

Hither and thither he was called to perform this humble duty or that, to assist in stowing away cargo or help the cook, and, quick and good-natured, he strove to do his best. Three or four of the men were lying on the decks helplessly drunk, several others were only THE GOLD PLOT 13 able to stagger about and inefficiently obey orders, while others again were smart and active, and a credit to their calling. Boxes and bales seemed everywhere. The Rosario was not a smart liner running continually between well-known ports, but rather an "ocean tramp," bound for such harbours as her owners could get cargoes for ; and her crew was not always made up of the best men. Meantime, as Joe slipped about everywhere, his mind reverted now and again to that letter in his pocket. "Think we shall pass the Anne Boleyn?" he asked presently, as he was assisting the cook at the galley.

" I've got a chum aboard, and I want to send a letter to him." " Faix, oi don't know," was the discouraging reply. " Where's she lying ? " Joe described her berth as well as he was able. " Shure oi can't tell," answered the. cook im patiently. " If she's goin' out the tide, ye might thry to jump it aboard." " What ! throw the letter on deck if we pass near enough in the river ? " "Ah, shure — didn't I say so ? Now heave ahead wi' the praties ; the men'll be as hungry as pigs bime-by, and we'll have sorra a bit for thim." Already Joe began to like this Irish cook, who, i4 THE GOLD SHIP despite impatience and recklessness, seemed as good-natured a son of Erin as ever trod a ship's galley. " Done," cried Joe, as he threw the last potato in the pot. " Now, could you let me run on deck a second ?

I am really anxious about this letter. I won't be a minute." " Ga on ! ye'll be wantin' to see the ship warped out — that's it. Faix, I was a bhoy mesilf once — a trifle av a year or so ago — and a broth av a bhoy at that. I know what bhoys is. Take these inions wid ye, and chop off their heads and tear off their skins, or, by the powers, the stew won't be ready at all, at all." Joe clutched a string of onions and hurried on deck. The captain was just taking leave of the representative of the owners, and then stepped on to the bridge with the pilot. A fussy little steam tug in front had just made fast a tow rope to the ship. A shrill whistle sounded from the bridge, the strain on the rope grew tighter, the huge Rosario began slowly to move. Hurriedly Joe threw a glance around. No sight of the Anne Boleyn could he see, nor of any person to whom he cared to entrust the letter for delivery to his old companion.

" Take care o' that rope," roared a voice near THE GOLD PLOT 15 him. "Get down to the galley out o' the way." Joe looked up in surprise, but moved not an inch as he shredded an onion and tossed the skin and the head over the vessel's side. " D'ye hear ? " cried the voice again with an oath ; " keep away from that rope." Then some one roughly grasped his shoulder and dragged him away from the bulwarks. " Get out ! " exclaimed Joe angrily, still boyish in his expressions ; "hit one of your own size." The man pointed to a thick rope, tightening and straining and creaking just in front of him, as it lay along the bulwark, and quite close to the spot where Joe's feet had stood. " Might fly, if you was to touch it," said the man as he hurried on. More whistles from the bridge, more straining at the rope, and as Joe gazed, the steamer slowly wore round.

Then he began dimly to under stand that this rope was acting somewhat as a pivot, around which the ship was turning. He followed the rope as it passed from the ship's side on to the quay, where it was wound round an iron post. A man was standing there waiting to cast it loose at the given signal, while a sailor on board the vessel was also watching it closely. " Is she going by her own steam ? " asked Joe, as the young sailor who had met him at Brown's Home passed by. " Yes, a bit," he answered, as he hurried along in response to his captain's call. Quietly, and as it seemed almost by magic, the Rosario threaded her way through the crowded dock basins and narrow entrances. The little tug pulled this way and that, and ropes were thrown ashore or aboard, and hauled a few feet toward this side or a few feet on the other, the vessel meantime making steady progress.

But no sign had Joe seen of the Anne Boleyn. " Get out o' that," cried a sour-faced cadaverous looking individual dragging a rope along to ward Joe. He appeared more like a Cockney corner-man — such as may be seen lounging near public-houses at the corners of streets — than a hearty, jolly British tar. "Get down to yer galley, you greasy kitchen-rat." Joe glanced up at him, but budged not an inch. " Get out, d'ye hear, or I'll knock yer over.' But just as he raised a hand to do so, Joe turned his shoulder, and giving him a sudden push, jolted him to one side. With an angry snarl the man turned sharply to avenge the blow, when a warning cry from THE GOLD PLOT 17 the bridge caused him to hurry onward. But the look of fiendish hate which he suddenly shot at Joe bespoke his evil temper. " Smart, Bloore, with that rope," cried a voice ; and Joe saw that his adversary was preparing to throw the rope to the quay.

With an effort he hurled the coil toward a man on the stone parapet ; but the rope fell short and dropped in the water. "Cannot you do better than that?" said the captain sharply. " Don't make fools of us before the other ships." With an oath the man muttered that the cook's boy had got in his way, and began hauling in his rope as fast as he could. " Throw another ! " " She'll bash into yon steamer ! " Instantly a scene of excitement rose on board, and cry after cry sounded from one or another of the men. The rope which Bloore had missed throwing properly was intended to check the Rosario from floating too near another steamer, and also to guide her through the opening between two dock-basins. But the ready captain had promptly sent the message, " Reverse engines," down to his engine room.

Sailors were hanging bundles of hemp over the side to soften the collision, and another B man sent a rope shooting out from the vessel's side to the quay. This rope was caught and twisted round a strong capstan by a man who was watching for a cable from the ship. "She'll just do it," cried a sailor hopefully from the bows, as he dangled a guard of thick rope over the vessel's side ; he was on the look out and gazing keenly at the stone walls of the passage-way against which the Rosario was peril ously close. The capstan spun round and round, twisting the guide-rope tighter, and speedily checking the progress of the ship, which also felt the reverse motion of the propeller. Bump ! The vessel just touched the opposite steamer and also grazed the side of the stone wall of the dock. The sailor's hopeful cry had not been fully realised, but the touch was slight only and no harm was done.

Yet the appearance was awkward and unsea manlike in the extreme, and the captain gnashed his teeth with rage — that is, as much as such a fairly cool and self-possessed officer as Captain Dukes permitted himself to do under the circum stances. But he was not yet such an admirable composition of ice, brain, and nerve as some of his kind. " Heave out that starboard hawser," he cried. " The onions were flying all over the deck." — Page 19. THE GOLD PLOT 19 The man on the quay caught it, twisted it thrice round a capstan, set the machinery in motion, and the ship was slowly pulled aside. " What works that capstan ? " asked Joe, as he stood watching the proceedings with eager in terest. " It seems to turn of itself." " It don't, though," said an old seaman, who came near with a coil of rope in his hand.

" It's hydraulicks — that's what it is., Power o' water, ye know. They gets a head o' water by pumpin' or somehow, and forces it through pipes. Hullo! " And he hurried past Joe and threw his rope ashore. The ship was now fairly straight again, and slowly moving clear through the last passage way into the river. Suddenly a stinging blow hit Joe on the side of the head. Turning quickly, he saw Bloore sheering off. Like a wild cat Joe sprang at him, and without thinking, in his anger and pain, he swung round the string of onions in his hand and caught the man a smart blow on the neck. But crash ! The next moment the onions were flying all over the deck, for the string had broken, and they were scattered everywhere by the blow. "Jee-rusalem !" cried the old seaman. "Ye'd best ship below, youngster, 'fore the captain sees, or ye'll get a smart rope's-ending."

Joe gathered up a few of his onions, and, thus reminded of his duty, began hastily to prepare them for the stew. " Och, thin, ye spalpeen, what have ye done wid 'em ? Shure ye have forgot that I was re memberin'. Down wid 'em at once." Joe raised his eyes at the cry, but he saw not the angry cook. Just before him, but fast passing away down the river, he beheld the Anne Boleyn. He had just missed the vessel.

Chapter III The Irish Cook Joe

started forward and shouted vehemently, but no answer came. He saw at once that the distance between the ships was too great for him to attempt to throw the letter on board, and the distance was gradually widening. " What is that boy raving for ? " asked the first mate. " Is he sick o' the sea already ? " " He's a rare noosance, sir," cried Bloore, " a gettin' in heverybody's way and a-hinderin' of em." At that moment Joe felt himself grasped by the shoulder and dragged below, and when he reached the galley the cook — for he it was who had clutched him so roughly — gave him a violent push, which sent him staggering to the ship's side. " Ye're a foine fool ! ye're a blissid omadhaun ! Faix, d'ye want to get kicked at ivery turn o' your loife." With anger blazing in his eyes, Joe's first impulse was to hurl a pot or pan at his Irish chief ; but better feeling and good sense prevailed.

Joe felt that in this instance he was to blame, for he had not done his work. " I beg your pardon," he said, " but that rascal hit me, and I defended myself, and the string of onions broke. I am sorry I have not done more." " Smart thin — stir your stumps and finish what you've got," replied the cook, somewhat mollified by the apology. "Shall I pick them up on deck?" asked Joe, alluding to the scattered onions. " Faix, no, not till the duff and all's ready do you stir out o' my soight. Maybe I'll pick up one or two mysilf." And the man went on deck, and soon returned with his arms full of the runaway vegetables. He was a man of the middle size, spare in body, and with plenty of red hair and whiskers. Now he seemed annoyed more than ever. " Was it that baste Bloore ye hit, bad cess to him ?" he asked.

"Ay, I think they did call him Bloore," an swered Joe. "Tip us yer fist thin ; be jabers, he is a scurvy rascal, and oi'm glad ye giv' him a crack." The Irish cook soon grew merry and pleasant again, and Joe did his utmost to help his chief. Seeing that it was impossible to communicate with the Anne Boleyn, he strove to dismiss the subject from his mind. " I want that boy," cried a voice, and a man, grimy with coal-dust, and stripped to shirt and trousers, appeared in the galley. " Faix, ye can't have him," retorted the cook. " I must," retorted the stranger. " Here's a couple o' my hands blind drunk, and some o' the greasers no good. They do ship such blag'ards o' men nowadays. Where's Toovey ?" " The mate's took Toovey on deck, and I got the boy to peel the praties. 'Ow can ye put a youngster like that at the furnace or wid the machines ?"

" He can help to carry coal," said the man. "We shall want plenty o' steam presently. I on'y need the lad till my men roust up." " Shure ye'll have no dinner if ye lave me short-handed," said the cook, his red hair brist ling round his head and face with impatience and worry. " I can't dish up for yez all alone." "Why, you've got all the vi'tuals a doin' now," retorted the new-comer ; " you've on'y got to watch it for a spell. Maybe I'll let ye hev the boy again when you wants to dish up." And he clutched Joe by the arm and began to drag him away. "Look here," cried Joe, struggling in the powerful grasp, " I am not going. I'm not a football to be kicked about here an' there by everybody. I'll ask the captain." "Tut, tut !" said the man, "you ought to be thankful for a chance o' larnin' something.