" On board ship, especially American ships, the
first requisite for a sailor who wants to be treated properly is
to "show willing," any suspicion of slackness being noted
immediately, and the backward one marked accordingly. I had
hardly reached the deck when I was confronted by a negro, the
biggest I ever saw in, my life. He looked me up and down for a
moment, then opening his ebony features in a wide smile, he
said, "Great snakes! why, here's a sailor man for sure! Guess
thet's so, ain't it, Johnny?" I said "yes" very curtly, for I
hardly liked his patronizing air; but he snapped me up short
with "yes, SIR, when yew speak to me, yew blank lime-juicer.
I'se de fourf mate ob dis yar ship, en my name's Mistah Jones,
'n yew, jest freeze on to dat ar, ef yew want ter lib long'n die
happy. See, sonny." I SAW, and answered promptly, "I beg your
pardon, sir, I didn't know." "Ob cawse yew didn't know, dat's
all right, little Britisher; naow jest skip aloft 'n loose dat
fore-taupsle." "Aye, aye, sir," I answered cheerily, springing
at once into the fore-rigging and up the ratlines like a monkey,
but not too fast to hear him chuckle, "Dat's a smart kiddy, I
bet." I had the big sail loose in double quick time, and sung
out "All gone, the fore-taupsle," before any of the other sails
were adrift.
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