Part II
During the period of time Smart spent in serious argument with the august Lee, Bahama Bill fretted and fumed about the deck of the wrecking-sloop, Sea-Horse. Sam and Heldron both came in for a dressing, and both narrowly escaped getting a morning bath, for the big black mate was in a passion at the delay. The steamer from Key West came to the dock, and a form—the unmistakable form of “Fightin’ Jule”—stepped ashore, and moved with no uncertain stride in the direction of the Sea-Horse.
Bahama Bill grunted forth anathemas, and sprang into the small boat to gain the wharf before his spouse could intercept him. He felt there might be something doing. When he arrived at the landing he looked up, and gazed right into the eyes of his partner.
“Huccum yo’ toe git heah, Jule?” asked Bahama Bill.
“I come wid de boat, shuah, nigger. How yo’ think I come—swim? I come toe see just what yo’ doin’; why yo’ don’t come home. I knows yo’, Bill, yo’ been runnin’ wid some trashy nigger gal up heah——”
“It ain’t so, Jule——”
“Don’t yo’ contradict me, nigger. I knows you. You ain’t sent me all dat money fer nothin’; yo’ ain’t done it fo’ no reason ’cept toe try toe make me think yo’ keers fo’ me. Don’t yo’ make me mad.”
“But, Jule, I got ter git toe sea right away. I ain’t done nothin’ but gib up de dough fast as I makes it. Got a cargo ob ca’tridges now abo’d, an’ got toe git dem No’th right away. I jest come heah toe see you an’ git de partner I got in de deal. I sho’ nuff glad toe see yo’, Jule.”
“Don’ yo’ gib me none o’ yo’ foolishness, Bill. I knows yo’. I tells yo’ I knows yo’, an’ I’ll set right heah tel yo’ gits de partner an’ gits ready toe go abo’d dat sloop—I wants to see de kind o’ partner yo’ has. Don’ talk toe me. Ef I wasn’t a lady, I’d knock yo’ blame’ haid off. Gwan!”
Bahama Bill was much disturbed, and he went up the street in no pleasant frame of mind. His wife he knew would stay right in sight of the sloop until the sloop sailed, and the indications were she’d want to go along with him. It was very disturbing to a man of the mate’s temperament. He went along as a man much occupied with his thoughts, and looked neither to the right nor left until he reached the main street. Here he met a sailor from a yacht lying in the harbour, and he asked him if he had seen anything of Smart.
“Yo’ knows a yacht feller when yo’ see him, I reckon; have yo’ seen dat Cap’n Smart?” he said.
“I saw your captain going toward the laundry about an hour ago,” said the sailor.
Bahama Bill went into a saloon and took a drink. Where could Smart have gone, except on a drunk, after going to the laundry. He eyed the barkeeper sourly, and asked him if he had seen his sailor partner.
“Sure,” said the man of drinks, handing out a square-faced bottle and a glass. “He stopped over across the way to the Chink’s—heard something of a fracas going on over in that direction—shouldn’t wonder if he beat up the heathen, only that Wah Lee is a corker; a sure winner for a yaller skin.”
“What yo’ mean?” asked Bill.
“I means that the Chink is a scrapper—kin do ’em up; carries a Gatling gun in his sleeve. He’s only here for a few months in the winter. Belongs to the Hip Sing Tong, or some secret society in New York. He’s something like Fat Duck, or Bill Puck, or some sech Chink I reads of in th’ papers what does up whole theatres full o’ them yaller bellies.”
“Gimme another drink,” said Bahama Bill, meditatively gazing into his empty glass. “It ain’t likely Cap’n Smart stayed wid no Chinks, but I goes over dere an’ takes a peek, jest fer luck, sah. I shuah ain’t got nothing agin’ no Chink, but I reckon I makes de yaller boy tell what he knows.” And as he finished the gin, he put the glass down carefully and strode forth.
He walked to the door of the laundry, and looked in where the men were now hard at work again ironing, their outfit temporarily repaired, and business going ahead as usual.
Bill looked at the place for a moment, and his trained eye saw marks of combat still upon the walls and shelves, which showed in spite of the new arrangements made.
“Seen a friend ob mine, a sailor man?” asked the mate, peering into the door.
“No see no ones—heap workee, velly busy,” replied Wah Lee.
Bahama Bill entered and stuck forth his big, ugly head right close to the Chinaman’s.
“You tell me where Cap’n Smart went after cleaning yo’ place up, yo’ heah?” he said menacingly.
The memory of the fracas was heavy upon Wah Lee. He backed away and drew his big, blue-barrelled gun.
“You getee ’way velly quick—see?” he said fiercely.
Bahama Bill reached over like lightning and grasped a Chinaman by the slack of his pigtail, jerking him in front of himself, and seizing him with his left hand, to keep him in place. An iron lay handy, and instantly it was sailing straight for the head of the belligerent Lee.
It caught him full in the neck, propelled with the power of the giant mate’s arm, and the Chinaman spun clear across the room, landing limp and insensible.
The big gun failed to explode, and went clattering upon the floor. Instantly Bill sprang for it, and seized its barrel just as a powerful heathen grabbed it by the stock. The mate wrenched it free with a quick jerk, and struck the fellow twice upon the top of his shaved head. Then the whole crowd piled upon him, swarmed up against him, grasping, clinging, gripping for his throat, while a hatchetman made a pass with his weapon, which reached the black man’s skull.
Bahama Bill was tough and hard, his head was thick of bone, and, although the hatchet struck him hard enough to kill an ordinary man, the blade glanced off, and cut only a big gash in his scalp. The stars danced before his eyes, and he staggered for an instant, and in that instant the whole gang closed upon him. Then the realization of his predicament dawned upon him, and he let forth a mighty yell, tore loose from the strangling holds upon his neck, and then smashed right into the crowd with the fury of a wounded tiger, the blood from his head pouring over him.
There was a wild mixture of huge black arms, flying forms of pajamaed Chinamen going through the air, and with yell after yell he grabbed and smashed the first that came in his path, tearing up the whole place with the struggle.
He seized an ironing-board and swung it about his head, yelling hoarsely. Then he struck right and left with it, knocking Chinese, gear, and clothes indiscriminately about the room, until there was not the slightest movement to denote life anywhere but in his own mighty frame.
Upon the floor the forms lay about—smashed, stunned, insensible. Then his fury abating, he stopped for a moment to gaze through the haze of blood and dust of conflict. He grinned hideously at the sight, his wound making him grotesquely horrible. Then he was suddenly taken with an idea.
He grasped the cue of a Chink and drew it across the room to that of another, making them fast with a bend. Then he dragged the rest, the whole six, and fastened them to Wah Lee’s cue. It made a pile of Chinese aggregating about a thousand pounds in dead weight; and he scanned the mass to contemplate. As he stopped, he was aware of a sound in the partition. He listened for a moment, and thought he heard his name called in a low voice—a voice which sounded far away and indistinct. He roared out a reply, and listened again. Yes, it was the voice of Captain Smart.
The captain was begging him to hurry and get him out of somewhere, and the mate roared out in reply:
“Where is yo’? Where is yo’? How I get thar?” And he ran along the partition, trying to discover a door or other opening. Nothing showed, and, losing patience, he caught up an iron and began smashing the planks. In a few minutes he had broken through into a dark recess, into which he crawled without delay. Something smote him heavily upon the head, and he fell sprawling, lying helpless and half-insensible, while a shrill voice cried out in defiance.
Bahama Bill lay dazed and dizzy for a long time; probably ten minutes. Then he was aware of Smart’s voice cursing furiously and calling for help. The huge mate slowly gathered himself, managed to rise to his knees, and, as he did so, the light which now shone through the gap in the partition showed him a slight girl standing over him with an axe. She had evidently struck him as he came through the bulkhead, and only her youth and frailness had prevented the blow from finishing him. He now saw she was about to repeat the operation, and he quickly snatched the weapon from her, and drew her to him.
“What fo’ yo’ hit me?” he asked, angrily.
“You velly bad mans—go away!” screamed the child.
Bill searched the surrounding gloom with a quick, comprehensive glance, and noticed a form lying in a bunk covered with a cloth. He made his way to it, and uncovered the prostrate form of Smart, securely bound, but not securely gagged. The sailor could only use his tongue, but he did use that member to its fullest extent, while he told quickly of the way he had run up against Wah Lee. Then the sight of Bahama Bill’s head caught his gaze, and he made a wry face. The giant mate was like a black fury with his marks of combat upon him.
“This child is a wife of that rascal,” said Smart, explaining the little girl’s presence in such a place. “She’s about twelve years old, and his property—his slave, I suppose you would call it. He keeps her in here, where no one can ever see her, and she thought you were some fellow going to harm her when she struck you with the axe. I tried to tell you as you came through, but couldn’t make you hear—that’s better, now cut loose my feet.” And the mate passed his knife through the cords, setting him free.
“I sho’ feel some ashamed toe think yo’ dun up by dese Chinks,” said Bill, as Smart rose from the filthy bunk. “Yo’ ain’t much hurt?”
“Not hurt at all—not like you,” said Smart impatiently.
“Dat clip was jest accident—shuah, shuah. Dey ain’t hurt me none toe speak of—only a little blood. But dat kid gal cum near killin’ me wid dat axe. I ain’t quite through yet. Come along into the room where dey lays.”
They took the child with them, and crawled through the bulkhead. One of the wounded men upon the floor had recovered his senses, and was busily at work trying to loosen his cue as Bahama Bill stepped up. A jolt with his foot stopped operations for the time, and Smart stood contemplating the victory.
“What’ll we do about it?” asked the yachtsman.
“Do? I jest reckon we’ll take de whole bunch abo’d de ship. We’ll need some extra hands toe make de passage quick. We got toe git a move on, fo’ we got the git dat stuff up toe catch de steamer at Jacksonville. Dere’s a cyart right in dat co’ner, sah. Help me pile ’em in.”
Smart, still furious from the treatment he had received, lent a willing hand, and in a few minutes they had the whole bunch of Celestials dumped in the cart and made secure.
“What’ll we do wif dat little gal?” asked Bill, eying the child. “She ain’t all Chink, by de looks; reckon she’s a half-breed.”
“We’ll have to take her with us,” said Smart, and so they started out of the shop, pushing the cart with the Chinese before them; and they attracted no attention for some minutes, for the affrays had been little noticed, as there had been no gun-fire.
“Hold on, let’s get the clothes,” said Smart, running back into the doorway and grabbing what bundles he could reach handily, and which had still been left intact from the whirlwind passage of the giant mate. He tossed them into the cart, and they went rapidly down to the dock.
Some small boys and one or two loafers followed, wishing to see the fun, but no one molested them or inquired their purpose. They reached the water-side without mishap. Fighting Jule was sitting there waiting for her lord to show up, and she was in anything but a sweet humour. The sight of the little Chinese girl made her alter her purpose to assault her huge partner, and she inquired briskly into details.
“Yo’ take de kid an’ keep her till we git de crew abo’d,” said Bill, with the first approach at gentleness in his voice.
Jule took the child. She was motherly, matronly, and affectionate, though a fighter. Her own progeny were safe at Key West, and this little yellow girl, this Chinese, appealed to her curiosity and motherhood alike. She gathered her in her arms and looked her over in wonder, while the men lowered their victims into the small boat.
“Huccum yo’ toe be wif dem Chinks—is yo’ de little pickaninny ob dat Wah Lee man?” she asked.
“Me Wah Lee’s wife,” said the child, crying.
“Yo’ stop tellin’ me lies, lil’ gal; yo’ ain’t nothin’ but a baby.”
“Me Wah Lee’s wife. He bought me last moon. Velly bad mans takee Wah Lee away; velly bad mans takee me.” The child spoke remarkably well for a Chinese.
A crowd of loafers had now been attracted by the unusual proceedings, and, in spite of the apathy of the Florida cracker, they managed to excite some wonder as to what the men of the Sea-Horse were about. In less time than it takes to tell it, Bahama Bill and Smart had the Mongolians aboard, where Sam and Heldron were instructed to look after them, and see that they went to work as soon as they were recovered sufficiently to do duty.
“Ef yo’ boys don’t want toe work dis trip, yo’ kin make de Chinks work fo’ yo’. Dey owes us a bit ob work. Break out dat hook an’ git dat jib on her.”
In less than five minutes the Sea-Horse was standing down the channel out to sea, Sam and Heldron lost in amazement at the turn of affairs. Some of the loafers on the dock shouted out something, but they made no reply, and in a few minutes were beyond hailing.
“De boat leaves fo’ home at six—I reckon you’ll hab toe cum wif me,” said Jule, leading the little girl away and gazing angrily after the Sea-Horse. “Ef I wasn’t a lady I’d shuah knock dat coon in de haid,” she added. “I dun paid er dollar an’ a half fo’ toe git heah, an’ now I got toe go home—cum.”
“I reckon I’ll change mah clothes en clean up er bit,” said the mate, after they rounded the point and stood away northward.
“So will I,” said Smart. “Better open up the clothes I brought and get some clean ones.”
Several of the shanghaied men were now able to get about, and Sam took them in charge. Wah Lee gazed about him dizzily, but made no comment. Heldron had passed his knife through his cue, cutting it off close to his head, in order to loose him from the bunch. He looked angrily at the sailor, and felt his strange-looking pate with a rueful hand.
“You heap sabbee work,” said Sam. “Git busy, you dam’ Chink.” And he helped the truculent Tong leader to his feet with the toe of his sea-boot.
The fight was pretty well worked out of Wah Lee, for he obeyed as best he could, glancing with narrowing, wicked eyes at the sailor. Lines were coiled up at the direction of the two men, and in less than half an hour Sam and Heldron were lying at ease, hurling directions at the bunch of Celestials, who endeavoured to obey orders.
Bahama Bill washed his wounded head, which ached sorely. Then he sought clean clothes from the bundles brought from the laundry. By some chance Smart had gotten hold of nothing save female apparel, but one bundle happened to contain several pairs of pajamas; and, as the weather was quite warm, he donned a suit and came on deck. Bahama Bill had no recourse but to do likewise. He jammed his huge limbs into a pair of the loose trousers, which came to his knees. This appeared not so bad, for he was used to going barefooted. The loose coat covered him, the sleeves reaching to his elbows; and thus attired he, also, came on deck to take a look around.
The recalcitrant Wah Lee looked lugubriously at the black mate.
“Where you takee me?” he asked. “Where you go?”
“Toe China, toe de land ob Chinks,” said Bahama Bill lugubriously, scowling at his former adversary. “Git out de shears, Sam; an’ yo’, Heldron, git out de line toe make de Chinks fast.”
“What for you do?” asked Wah Lee.
“Me showee you, me showee you,” snarled Bahama Bill. “Is yo’ good barber, cap’n?”
“I reckon I can cut the hair fairly well,” assented Smart.
“De razzer ob mine is in de locker, toe de right,” suggested Bill.
Wah Lee was quickly tied fast and his hair cut close. Then a lather was made, and before many minutes his head was shaved as clean as a fairly good razor could shave it.
“Next!” called Bahama Bill, in the tone of a barber.
All went through the same operation, two of the pigtails being kept as souvenirs of the occasion. The débris was thrown overboard.
“Now yo’ Chinks git out de soap an’ de water—show ’em where dey is kept, Heldron—an’ I wants toe see dishear ship washed fo’ an’ aft—see? Heap sabbee? I wants toe see dishear ship come inter Jacksonville lookin’ like a yacht; lookin’ like she was something toe be proud ob. Git toe work.”
The wind held fair, and for two days the Sea-Horse ran up the coast, making six or seven knots, raising the jetty off the bar the third day out. The sloop had been scrubbed alow and aloft, her decks rubbed white, her spare sails even scrubbed clean, and she looked good to a nautical eye as she rounded the sea-buoy and stood up the St. John’s River for town.
The inhabitants of Mayport and Pilotown were treated to the novel sight of a heavily built sloop manned by a crew large enough for a four-master, the officers uniformed in bright-coloured pajamas, which fitted not at all, and the larger part of the hands distinctly Mongolian. The customs officer stopped her and boarded her without delay.
“Where do you come from—China?” asked the official, in amazement.
“Yo’ surely ain’t forgot de ole Sea-Horse, Marse Hennery,” said Bahama Bill, coming on deck and recognizing an old acquaintance in the boarding officer. “We got a consignment ob ca’tridges—American ammunition—here’s de papers, an’ de crew we shipped in a hurry, without gittin’ time toe sign ’em on in regular shape; but dey is all right; dey belongs right in dishear State.”
As it is not necessary to sign on hands in small vessels coasting unless there is especial reason for it, the officer left without further remark, and the Sea-Horse proceeded on her way.
The steamer for New York was at the dock, and would not sail until after dark. There was plenty of time to make the consignment and get the bill of sale through. The unruly crew were kept at work hoisting out cases of ammunition until all was aboard the steamer. Then the ship was washed down and gear put in place, and the Sea-Horse looked almost like a pleasure craft.
“I will give you a thousand dollars for her,” said a shipper who had been attracted by the strange uniforms and crew.
“Make it fifteen hundred,” said Bahama Bill.
“She will never be in better condition to sell,” cautioned Smart, who felt as though losing an old friend.
They finally compromised on twelve hundred, and, as Captain Sanders showed up before dark, dead broke and very thirsty, he was more than willing to get cash for his share. The deal was made, the money paid, and the Celestial crew were at last allowed to go ashore.
Wah Lee made for the depot with his followers. He had no thought for seeking redress by the aid of the authorities, for, with the Tong men, the foreign pigs are always dealt with personally. There were plenty of Chinese who ran laundries in Jacksonville who could be levied upon to produce the railroad fare to get him and his gang back to their place of business.
With new clothes and rigged out splendidly, all hands left the dock long before darkness set in. Smart had a receipt for his share of the salvaged ammunition, and the feeling that he had several thousand dollars was not distasteful to him. His cruise on the wrecking-sloop had been successful, and it was with a somewhat mixed feeling he said good-bye to the big black mate.
“Good-bye, cap,” said Bahama Bill. “I shuah like yo’, an’ yo’ shuah done well wif me—good-bye. Mebbe we kin make a new deal some day. Dere’s plenty ob money wracking, ef yo’ know how toe wrack right. Mebbe Sanders an’ us kin go inter de business right, and git a bigger ship. Let me heah from yo’.”
“I certainly will,” said Smart. “Good-bye.” And the giant fingers of the mate of the Sea-Horse closed upon his own with their firm, solid grip.
Late that night a sheriff came rapidly down the dock to where the steamer was just pulling out.
“Seen anything of the sloop Sea-Horse?” he asked several bystanders.
“Thar she lays—right at the dock,” said the watchman of the wharf.
“Ah!” He smiled grimly.
“You want the crew?” asked the watchman.
“I certainly do that,” said the sheriff. “There’s a bit of a charge of kidnapping against the mate and captain. Ran off with a whole lot of Chinks from below. They are aboard, I suppose?”
“That sloop was sold out hours ago, the crew gone, and the whole thing settled before five o’clock. It ain’t likely you’ll come up with the men you’re after in this town. No, sir, they don’t belong here—good night.” And the watchman grinned as the sheriff, after gazing down at the deserted vessel, sadly went his way.
At the station Bahama Bill looked up to the window where Smart sat in the train. He felt the parting with the keenness often developed in the African character, and he was loath to leave until the train pulled out.
“Good-bye ag’in, cap; good-bye,” he called up to him as the train gathered headway slowly.
Sanders stood near, and, not knowing the friendship between the two, was a little disconcerted at the mate’s warmth.
“Come on, we take the train going the other way, Bill,” he said, as the mate waved his hand.
“Shuah, shuah. Good-bye, cap——He was all right, Sanders; dat yacht feller was all toe de good. I ain’t got but one t’ing agin’ him.”
“What’s that?” asked Captain Sanders.
“Well—er—er, well, I cayn’t hab de highest regyard fo’ his—well, sah, I don’t know jest how toe say it, but he sho’ never ought toe been dun up by dem Chinks—dat’s all.”
He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth two handsomely braided queues.
“Yo’ see dese heah? Well, I’se gwine toe make a nice dog-whip ob dem fo’ mah little boy Will toe play wif.” And he stroked their satin length approvingly as he boarded the cars for home.