who was the boatswain or second mate, boxed my ears with a
couple of cuffs which made my head sing. "You young hound," he said,
"Cubbadar when your chief passes." I went forward to the galley, crying
as if my heart would break, not only at the pain of the blows, which
stung me horribly, but at the misery of my life in this new service,
that had seemed so grand only seven or eight hours before. At the galley
door was the cook, a morose little Londoner with earrings in his ears.
"Miaow, Miaow," he said, pretending to mimic my sobs. "Why haven't you
come for this 'ot water before? 'Ere 'ave I been keepin' my fire lit
while you been enjoyin' a stuffin' loaf down in that there cabin." I was
too miserable to answer him. I just held out my kettle, thinking that
he would fill it for me. "Wot are you 'oldin' out the kettle for?"
he asked. "Think I'm goin' to do yer dirty work? Fill it at the 'ob
yourself." I filled it as he bade me, choking down my tears. When I had
filled it, I hurried back to the 'tweendecks, hoping to hide my misery
down in the semi-darkness there. I did not pass the second mate on my
way back; but I passed some of the seamen, to whom a boy in tears was
fair game. One asked me what I meant by coming aft all salt, like a head
sea, making the deck wet after he'd squeegeed it down. Another told me
to wait till the second mate caught me. "I'd be sorry then," he said,
"that ever I spilt the slush;" with other sea-jests, all of them pretty
brutal. It is said that if a strange rook comes to a rookery the other
rooks peck it to death, or at any rate drive it away. I know not if this
be true of rooks (I know that sparrows will attack owls or canaries,
whenever they have a chance), but it is true enough of human beings. We
all hate the new-comer, we are all suspicious of him, as of a possible
enemy. The seamen did to me what school-boys do to the new boy. I did
not know then that there is no mercy for one sensitive enough to take
such "jests" to heart. At sea, the rough, ready tom-fool boy is the
boy to thrive. Such an one might have spilt all the slush in the ship,
without getting so much as a cuff. I was a merry boy enough, but I was
sad when I made my first appearance. The sailors saw me crying. If I
had only had the wit to dodge the bosun's blows, the matter of the slush
would have been turned off with a laugh, since he only struck me in the
irritation of the moment. He would have enjoyed chasing me round the
deck. I