Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast

Mayo took his place in the yawl and preserved meek and proper silence

during the trip down the harbor.

When they swung under the counter of the schooner which was their

destination, the young man noted that she was the Drusilla M. Alden,

a five-master, of no very enviable record along the coast, so far as the

methods and manners of her master went; Mayo had heard of her master,

whose nickname was "Old Mull." He had not recognized him under the name

of Captain Downs when the runner had addressed him.

The new member of the crew followed the mate up the ladder--only a few

steps, for the huge schooner, with most of her cargo aboard, showed less

than ten feet of freeboard amidships.

"Sleepy, George?" asked the mate, when they were on deck.

"No, sir."

"Then you may as well go on this watch."

"Yass'r!"

"We'll call it now eight bells, midnight. You'll go off watch eight

bells, morning."

Mayo knew that the hour was not much later than eleven, but he did

not protest; he knew something about the procedure aboard coastwise

coal-schooners.

Search-lights bent steady glare upon the chutes down which rushed the

streams of coal, black dust swirling in the white radiance. The great

pockets at Lambert Point are never idle. High above, on the railway,

trains of coal-cars racketed. Under his feet the fabric of the vessel

trembled as the chutes fed her through the three hatches. Sweating,

coal-blackened men toiled in the depths of her, revealed below hatches

by the electric lights, pecking at the avalanche with their shovels,

trimming cargo.

The young man exchanged a few listless words with the two negroes who

were on deck, his mates of the watch.

They were plainly not interested in him, and he avoided them.

The hours dragged. He helped to close and batten the fore-hatch,

and later performed similar service on the hatch aft. The main-hatch

continued to gulp the black food which the chute fed to it.

Suddenly a tall young man appeared to Mayo. The stranger was smartly

dressed, and his spick-and-span garb contrasted strangely with the

general riot of dirt aboard the schooner. He trod gingerly over the

dust-coated planks and carried two suit-cases.

"Here, George," he commanded. "Take these to my stateroom."

Mayo hesitated.

"I'm going as passenger," said the young man, impatiently, and Mayo

remembered what the captain had told the mate.

Passengers on coal-schooners, sailing as friends of the master, were not

unknown on the coast, but Mayo judged, from what he had heard, that this

person was not a friend, and had wondered a bit.