Man Overboard!Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Science
Man Overboard!
Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion)
Ghost stories; Sailors -- Fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
I am not good at giving you that West Indies talk, and sha'n't
try; but the doctor beat about the bush awhile, and then he told
me he thought the men were beginning to play tricks on him, and
he didn't like it, and thought he hadn't deserved it, and would
like his discharge at our next port. I told him he was a d----d
fool, of course, to begin with; and that men were more apt to try
a joke with a chap they liked than with anybody they wanted to
get rid of; unless it was a bad joke, like flooding his bunk, or
filling his boots with tar. But it wasn't that kind of practical
joke. The doctor said that the men were trying to frighten him,
and he didn't like it, and that they put things in his way that
frightened him. So I told him he was a d----d fool to be
frightened, anyway, and I wanted to know what things they put in
his way. He gave me a queer answer. He said they were spoons and
forks, and odd plates, and a cup now and then, and such things.
I set down the taffrail-log on the bit of canvas I had put under
it, and looked at the doctor. He was uneasy, and his eyes had a
sort of hunted look, and his yellow face looked grey. He wasn't
trying to make trouble. He was in trouble. So I asked him
questions.
He said he could count as well as anybody, and do sums without
using his fingers, but that when he couldn't count any other way
he did use his fingers, and it always came out the same. He said
that when he and the cabin-boy cleared up after the men's meals
there were more things to wash than he had given out. There'd be
a fork more, or there'd be a spoon more, and sometimes there'd be
a spoon and a fork, and there was always a plate more. It wasn't
that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they
had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and
that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if
there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it
was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his
things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible
for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more
things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil
them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think--
He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't
know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to
humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the
men himself, and not come bothering me about such things.
"Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit
down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when
they have finished, count the things again, and if the count
isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of
them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or
eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if
the boys play a trick on you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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