Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
For several days the captain seemed very much out of humor.
Nothing went right, or fast enough for him. He quarrelled with the
cook, and threatened to flog him for throwing wood on deck, and
had a dispute with the mate about reeving a Spanish burton; the
mate saying that he was right, and had been taught how to do it by
a man who was a sailor! This the captain took in dudgeon, and they
were at swords' points at once. But his displeasure was chiefly
turned against a large, heavy-moulded fellow from the Middle
States, who was called Sam. This man hesitated in his speech, was
rather slow in his motions, and was only a tolerably good sailor,
but usually seemed to do his best; yet the captain took a dislike
to him, thought he was surly and lazy, and ``if you once give a
dog a bad name,''-- as the sailor-phrase is,-- ``he may as well
jump overboard.'' The captain found fault with everything this man
did, and hazed him for dropping a marline-spike from the
main-yard, where he was at work. This, of course, was an accident,
but it was set down against him. The captain was on board all day
Friday, and everything went on hard and disagreeably. ``The more
you drive a man, the less he will do,'' was as true with us as
with any other people. We worked late Friday night, and were
turned-to early Saturday morning. About ten o'clock the captain
ordered our new officer, Russell, who by this time had become
thoroughly disliked by all the crew, to get the gig ready to take
him ashore. John, the Swede, was sitting in the boat alongside,
and Mr. Russell and I were standing by the main hatchway, waiting
for the captain, who was down in the hold, where the crew were at
work, when we heard his voice raised in violent dispute with
somebody, whether it was with the mate or one of the crew I could
not tell, and then came blows and scuffling. I ran to the side and
beckoned to John, who came aboard, and we leaned down the
hatchway, and though we could see no one, yet we knew that the
captain had the advantage, for his voice was loud and clear:--
``You see your condition! You see your condition! Will you ever
give me any more of your jaw?'' No answer; and then came wrestling
and heaving, as though the man was trying to turn him. ``You may
as well keep still, for I have got you,'' said the captain. Then
came the question, ``Will you ever give me any more of your jaw?''
``I never gave you any, sir,'' said Sam; for it was his voice that
we heard, though low and half choked.
``That's not what I ask you. Will you ever be impudent to me
again?''
``I never have been, sir,'' said Sam.
``Answer my question, or I'll make a spread eagle of you! I'll
flog you, by G---d.''
``I'm no negro slave,'' said Sam.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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