When Greek Meets Greek
by
“Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.”
BARD OF AVON.
“But 4 times he who gits hiz blo’ in fust.”
JOSH BILLINGS.
Captain William Belchior was more than a martinet. He was known as “Bucko” Belchior in every port where the English language is spoken, having earned this prefix by the earnest readiness with which, in his days as second and chief mate, he would whirl belaying-pins, heavers, and handspikes about the decks, and by his success in knocking down, tricing up, and working up sailors who displeased him. With a blow of his fist he had broken the jaw of a man helplessly ironed in the ‘tween-deck, and on the same voyage, armed with a simple belaying-pin, had sprung alone into a circle of brandishing sheath-knives and quelled a mutiny. He was short, broad, beetle-browed, and gray-eyed, of undoubted courage, but with the quality of sympathy left out of his nature.
During the ten years in which he had been in command, he was relieved of much of the executive work that had made him famous when he stood watch, but was always ready to justify his reputation as a “bucko” should friction with the crew occur past the power of his officers to cope with. His ship, the Wilmington, a skysail-yard clipper, was rated by sailormen as the “hottest” craft under the American flag, and Captain Belchior himself was spoken of by consuls and commissioners, far and near, as a man peculiarly unfortunate in his selection of men; for never a passage ended but he was complainant against one or more heavily ironed and badly used-up members of his crew.
His officers were, in the language of one of these defendants, “o’ the same breed o’ dorg.” No others could or would sign with him. His crews were invariably put on board in the stream or at anchorage–never at the dock. Drunk when coerced by the boarding-masters into signing the ship’s articles, kept drunk until delivery, they were driven or hoisted up the side like animals–some in a stupor from drink or drugs, some tied hand and foot, struggling and cursing with returning reason.
Equipped thus, the Wilmington, bound for Melbourne, discharged her tug and pilot off Sandy Hook one summer morning, and, with a fresh quartering wind and raising sea, headed for the southeast. The day was spent in getting her sail on, and in the “licking into shape” of the men as fast as they recovered their senses. Oaths and missiles flew about the deck, knock-downs were frequent, and by eight bells in the evening, when the two mates chose the watches,–much as boys choose sides in a ball game,–the sailors were well convinced that their masters lived aft.
Three men, long-haired fellows, sprawling on the main-hatch, helpless from seasickness, were left to the last in the choosing and then hustled into the light from the near-by galley door to be examined. They had been dragged from the forecastle at the mate’s call for “all hands.”
“Call yourselves able seamen, I suppose,” he said with an oath, as he glared into their woebegone faces.
“No, pard,” said the tallest and oldest of the three, in a weak voice. “We’re not seamen; we don’t know how we got here, neither.”
The mate’s answer was a fist-blow under the ear that sent the man headlong into the scuppers, where he lay quiet.
“Say ‘sir’ when you speak to me, you bandy-legged farmers,” he snarled, glowering hard at the other two, as they leaned against the water-tank. “I’m pard to none of ye.”
They made him no answer, and he turned away in contempt. “Mr. Tomm,” he called, “want these Ethiopians in your watch?”
“No, sir,” said the second mate; “I don’t want ’em. They’re no more use ‘an a spare pump.”
“I’ll make ’em useful ‘fore I’m done with ’em. Go forrard, you three. Get the bile out o’ yer gizzards ‘fore mornin’, ‘f ye value yer good looks.” He delivered a vicious kick at each of the two standing men, bawled out, “Relieve the wheel an’ lookout–that’ll do the watch,” and went aft, while the crew assisted the seasick men to the forecastle and into three bedless bunks–bedless, because sailors must furnish their own, and these men had been shanghaied.