John Snaith - The Sailor

After Sing had gazed in silence at Henry Harper for about an hour, he pointed to the manhole, which meant that the boy had better get to bed. Henry Harper took the hint as quickly as possible, not in the least because he wanted to get to a bed of that kind, but because the Chinaman seemed of a piece with Mr. Thompson and the Old Man. Implicit obedience was still the only course for a boy of judgment. Those wicked little yellow eyes, about the size of a pig's, held a promise he dared not put into words. Henry Harper had still a morbid dread of being hurt, in spite of the fact that he had been hurt so often.

With a heart wildly beating, he crawled into the manhole and he knew at once, oversensitive as he was, that it was full of things that crept. He shuddered and nearly screamed, but fear of the Chinaman restrained him. It was so dark in that chasm between the copper and the galley stairs that he couldn't see his hand when he held it in front of him; also it was so hot, in spite of the cold November rain he had left in the good and great world outside this death trap, that he could hardly breathe at first; yet as soon as he had got used to the temperature he took off Johnnie's overcoat and wrapped his face in it in order to prevent unknown things crawling over it.

He didn't cry himself to sleep. Tonight he was too far gone for tears. If only he had had a bit of pluck he would have chosen the police. The thing they did was awful, but after all it could not compare with a 'orrible crime on the 'igh seas. The police did one thing sure and you knew the worst – but there were a thousand ways of murder, and very likely more for Jack the Ripper and a Chinaman.

He hardly dared to breathe, indeed was scarcely able to do so, with Johnnie's overcoat covering his eyes and mouth. But even as he lay gasping in a sweat of fear, there was just one thing, and the only one he had to which to cling. And he clung to it desperately. It was the sacred apple he had had the luck to wrap in the red-spotted handkerchief which Percy had given him.

Sleep was not to be thought of. Something was racing and hammering upon his brain. After a lapse of time which seemed like hours, but was only twenty minutes in point of fact, he began to understand that this turmoil had a definite meaning. An idea was being born.

When at last it burst upon his mind it was nothing very remarkable. "Henry Harper, you must find your way out of this before it's too late. Never mind the police. You must find your way out of this, Henry Harper."

He took Johnnie's overcoat from his face and sat up and listened. It was absolutely pitch dark. At first there was not a sound. Then he thought he could detect a gentle scratching, a noise made by a rat near his head. But he could hear nothing of the Chinaman. No doubt he had gone to bed. The boy rose with stealthy care, and well it was that he did, otherwise he would have hit his head against the under side of the galley stairs.

It was so dark that he couldn't see the opening from the manhole into the galley itself. But he found it at last and climbed out cautiously. The lamp in the galley had gone out; there was not a glimmer of light anywhere. He had no knowledge of the Chinaman's whereabouts, he could not find the opening which led into the other parts of the ship. He groped about as noiselessly as he could, hoping to avoid the one and to find the other, and then suddenly there came a truly terrible sound. He had put his foot on the Chinaman's face.

He heard the Chinaman get up in his rage; he even knew where he was although it was too dark to see him. His heart stood still; the Chinaman was feeling for him in the darkness; and then he was obliged to feel himself for the Chinaman in order to avoid him.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a light. He ran towards it not knowing what else to do. But in almost the same moment the Chinaman had seen it too, and also had seen him go. Near the light was a ladder which ascended to some unknown region. The boy raced up the ladder with the Chinaman upon his heels. As soon as he got to the top the sharp, wet air caught his face. He was on the deck. He dashed straight ahead; there was no time for any plan. The Chinaman was at the top of the ladder already and trying to catch him by the leg.

Running like mad, the boy gained a yard or two along the deck. But he had no real chance of escape, for he had not the least notion of his bearings or of the hang of the ship. And luck did not favor him at all. Suddenly he tripped over an unseen obstacle and fell heavily, and then the Chinaman came down on him with both knees, fastening fingers upon his throat.

He was not able to cry out, the Chinaman saw to that. But if Sing was going to kill him, he could only hope it would be soon. This, however, was not the cook's intention. He merely led Henry Harper back to the galley by the ear, gave his arm a ferocious twist which made the boy gasp, and then sent him flying head-first into the stifling darkness of the manhole with the help of a well-timed boot. The boy pitched in such a way that he was half stunned, and when at last he came fully to himself light was creeping through a tiny chink in the manhole, and he knew that it was morning. Also he knew by the curious lapping sound made by the waves under the galley stairs that the ship was already at sea.

Yes, it was true, the ship was already at sea. He was lost. And hardly was there time for his mind to seize this terrible thought when the Chinaman looked into the manhole. As soon as he saw the boy was sitting up, a broad grin came on his face and he beckoned him out with a finger.

The boy obeyed at once, and tumbled unsteadily into the galley. But as soon as he tried to stand on his legs he fell down. The Chinaman with a deep smile pointed to the bacon box, and the boy sat on it, and then tried as well as he could to prevent his head from going round.

Luckily, for the time being, the Chinaman took no further notice of Henry Harper, but set about the duties of the day. It was nearly six bells of the morning watch, and he had to serve breakfast for the crew. This consisted partly of a curious mixture that was boiling in the copper, which was called wet hash, and was esteemed as a luxury, and partly of an indescribable liquid called coffee, which was brewed out of firewood or anything that came handy, and was not esteemed as anything in particular by the most catholic taste.

Long before the boy's head had done spinning six bells was struck, and the members of the crew came into the galley with their pannikins. There were sixteen all told, excluding the Old Man and the superior officers, of whom Mr. Thompson was the chief. Henry Harper's breath was taken away by the sight of this wolfish looking lot. He had seen distinguished members of the criminal classes massed around the Judge's carriage at the Assizes at Blackhampton, just for old sake's sake as it were, and to show that they still took a friendly interest in the Old Cock; but these were tame and rather amateurish sort of people compared with the crew of the Margaret Carey .

As a body of seamen the crew of the Margaret Carey was undoubtedly "tough." Dagoes, Yanks, Dutchmen and a couple of not very "white" Britishers; they came into the galley, one after another, took up their pannikins of wet hash, and as soon as they saw and smelled it, told Mr. Sing what they thought of him in terms of the sea. Henry Harper was chilled to the marrow. He was still seated on the bacon box, his head was still humming; but he seemed to remember that Auntie, even on Saturday nights, when she came home from the public, was not as these.

At the end of a fortnight the boy was still alive. At first he was so dreadfully ill that his mind was distracted from other things. And as he did not lack food as soon as he could eat it, body and soul kept together in a surprising way.