784 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[May 16, 1908. 
Sailors in Port. 
Continued from page 744. 
Charlie had gone off somewhere with a man 
when it came time to return aboard, so Bill, 
Joe and I shouldered our heavy bundles _ of 
supplies and started for the end of the pier. 
At the gateway the guard stopped us and felt 
our bundles to see if we had any liquor; find¬ 
ing none, he let us proceed—but I noticed he 
followed at a distance. We set our bundles 
down alongside the shed at the end of the pier 
and Joe and Bill got into conversation with 
him; the result was all hands must go back and 
get a drink. I tried to persuade them not to, 
but finally seeing they were set on going, I 
said I would guard their bundles until they re¬ 
turned. 
While they were away several young Chilanos 
came hanging around in a suspicious manner, 
and when my shipmates next hove in sight, Bill 
was trying to walk the figure of eight and Joe 
was luffing him through the squalls. They 
made a very affectionate couple and were vow¬ 
ing eternal friendship in great style. Seeing 
me, they gave three miserable drunken cheers 
for “Frisco! Hurrah! for Pisauga!” 
“Full moon (hie) it never grows whiskers!” 
“She’s nothing but a workhouse! Hurrah! 
for Frisco!” They were leaning up against the 
side of the shed hugging each other and both 
trying to talk at once; the guard they had been 
drinking with was near them and the other 
Chilanos laughing at them. 
I went around the house and hailed the bark 
as loud as I could, for she lay about a mile out. 
When I came back to my mates I found them 
in a fight with the young Chilanos, and I 
jumped for two of them that were trying to 
steal some of our supplies, but they took to 
their heels and fled, all but one, and he the 
guard caught and gave a severe punching, knock¬ 
ing his hat overboard and making his nose bleed, 
and finally marched him up the dock, where I 
lost sight of them. This was more justice than 
I expected from the guard. I thought he would 
side in with his countrymen, but I guess the 
liquor had made him loyal to our side. I was 
glad to be rid of them; I had enough to do to 
keep my two drunken mates from going over¬ 
board without having to watch the supplies. 
I hailed and hailed, but no boat came, and 
Bill would insist upon coming near the iron 
steps that lead down to the water. Finally a 
gust of wind carried his derby overboard. He 
threw off his coat and breeches in spite of my 
efforts to stop him, and fell rather than walked 
down the slippery steps, overboard, still shout¬ 
ing “I want my hat! I want my hat!” I ran 
down the steps after him, when Joe, who was 
nearly as drunk as Bill, came after me. 
“Go on back, you!” I shouted; but no, he 
was going to save his mate. I forced him back 
up the steps and hung on to him until Bill, who 
had now reached his hat swam back to the pier, 
and then I had to let go of Joe and help him, for 
he nearly drowned himself every time he raised 
his arms to catch the steps; and every time he 
went down his hat floated off, and when he 
grabbed it again and stopped swimming to put 
it on, down he would go under water and come 
up for all the world like an old sea lion, hun¬ 
dreds of which were swimming all about him. I 
was afraid he would drown before I could get- 
him out; yet I did not dare jump in after him, 
for Joe had followed me down and was trying 
to do that very thing. 
“Hold on Bill! Hold on!” he kept shouting. 
“Ef you drown, I go get a bloody big stone and 
we’ll both drown together!” 
But Bill finally caught the steps and Joe and 
I hauled him out, and such a sight as he pre¬ 
sented. He was not by any means stout, and his 
wet underclothes clung to him like glue. Joe, 
in his drunken good humor, immediately be¬ 
gan to undress him to make him put on his 
own dry cothes. But Bill’s shoe laces were 
swelled so he could not untie them, so he 
ripped Bill’s underdrawers off in strips and 
flung the pieces overboard. When he saw this, 
Bill wanted to swim after the rags, “I want them 
for swabs!” he kept repeating. “I want them 
for swabs!” But between us, Joe and I held 
him back, while Joe made him exchange shirts 
with him. But we couldn’t make him put on 
his breeches and he walked around the pier 
shouting, “Full moon, it never grows whiskers!” 
with the rags of his underdrawers trailing after 
him, his long shanks bare and the tails of Joe’s 
shirt fluttering in the breeze; but he had his 
hat, it was jammed clean down to his eyes this 
time and his long beard hung down dripping 
wet. This was the way we bundled him into 
the boat still singing, “Full moon, it never 
grows whiskers!” And as Charlie and Hans 
had arrived by that time, the whole party re¬ 
turned to the bark. 
I thought the mates and the cook would die 
laughing at old Bill as he came bare-legged up 
the gangway, carrying his breeches under his 
arm. 
The following week we couldn’t get much 
saltpeter, so spent the time in painting ship and 
such like jobs to get her in shape for the home¬ 
ward voyage. The hot weather had bred bed¬ 
bugs so thick in the fo’castle, we were com¬ 
pelled to take our mattresses and blankets up 
under the awning on the fo’castle head and 
sleep. 
Here, as Joe and I lay side by side on our 
mattresses one night, he told me the stevedore 
was going to bring him a note from Charlie, the 
runner ashore, next day, and that would give 
the final arrangements for deserting the bark. 
“Would I go, too?” That was what Joe 
wanted to know. Bill, Albert, Hans and him¬ 
self had already decided to go, and after argu¬ 
ing the question in all its lights I finally said, 
“Yes, you can count me in.” 
I reasoned this way: We were nearly starved 
coming out and no provisions had been laid in 
to insure better food going home. The bark 
was deeply laden and none of us cared to face 
the days and nights of hardships off the Horn. 
Charlie promised us a berth on a vessel bound 
for ’Frisco, which, if we got, would land me 
in my native land and my folks would send me 
money to go overland home. I would be willing 
to lose my pay and even my clothes to get clear 
of the vessel. Here was a chance I thought to 
get clear of the W., and yet save my clothes, 
for it was arranged that each man was to take 
his clothes bag with him. Even if we failed to 
get the vessel for ’Frisco, I would have a littlej 
liberty ashore and be able to see the country, 
for I might never again come out to this truly 
God-forsaken land, and now that I was here, I 
might as well see all I could of it. Certainly I 
could not get on a harder working craft than 
our bark, and so I made up my mind to go with 
the others and run away from the W. 
The stevedore brought the note next day, and 
when the eventful night came around it was a 
guilty crowd that rolled up in their blankets 
and lay down on the fo’castle head to sleep. 
The bright anchor light burning overhead on 
the forestay threw the fo’castle head under its 
awning into total darkness, which favored our 
scheme. Strangely enough it was only those 
who intended to desert that found the fo’castle 
too hot to sleep in. To all appearances all 
hands were soon sound asleep; in fact, Bill was, 
and his snoring could be distinctly heard. The 
night was pitch black, without a star in sight, 
the calm water fell in long smooth, swells and 
a mist hung over all, making the neighboring 
ships look faint and ghostly. 
It was impossible to tell whether the officers 
at the other end of the ship were asleep or not, 
but that was a risk we had to run. More than 
one pair of eyes kept a bright lookout to give 
a warning should any moving form be seen aft. 
Joe rolled over until close to me, and in muffled 
whispers told me the plan of escape laid out by 
Charlie, the runner. He was to come out in 
