For the ship, it is ready, and the wind is fair,
And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann.
Like a whirlwind he swept Wilkinson and the two knapsacks out of the
hotel door, along the sawdust paths and on to the wharf just in time to
see the first sail set. "What in the name of common sense is the meaning
of this conduct?" asked the amazed schoolmaster as soon as he got his
breath.
"Meaning! why, we're indentured, you and I, as apprentice mariners on
board the good ship _Susan Thomas_, bound for Kempenfeldt Bay.
Brave Kempenfeldt is gone,
His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the waves no more.
But we'll plough them, Wilks, my boy. We'll splice the spanker boom,
and port the helm to starboard, and ship the taffrail on to the lee
scuppers of the after hatch, and dance hornpipes on the mizzen peak.
Hulloa, captain, here's my mate, up to all sorts of sea larks; he can
box the compass and do logarithm sums, and work navigation by single or
double entry." The schoolmaster blushed for his companion, at whose
exuberant spirits the sedate captain smiled, while the shock-headed man,
whom Coristine named The Crew, displayed a large set of fairly preserved
yellowish teeth, and guffawed loud and long.
"Do I understand, Captain, that you are willing to take us to Barrie in
your--ah--vessel?" asked Wilkinson, politely.
"Aye, aye, my man," answered the ancient mariner, "get your leg aboard,
for we're going to sail right away. Hi, you, Sylvanus there, give
another haul on them halliards afore you're too mighty ready to belay,
with your stupid cackle."
So the indentured apprentices and their knapsacks got on board, while
Sylvanus, _alias_ The Crew, stopped laughing, and put a pound or two
extra on to the halliards. "Wilks," said Coristine, "it'll puzzle the
women to find us out on our ocean home."
Wilkinson saw the captain hauling at the halliards of the after-mainsail
and went to his assistance, while Coristine, doffing his coat, lent a
hand to The Crew, when, by their combined efforts, the sails were all
hoisted and the schooner floated away from the pier. The lawyer walked
over the deck with a nautical air, picking up all loose ends of rope and
coiling them neatly over his left arm. The coils he deposited carefully
about the feet of the masts, to the astonishment of Wilkinson, who
regarded his friend as a born seaman, and to the admiration of the
captain and Th
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