we are thirty degrees off course?” The Captain demanded. The Captain shot a scathing look at the Helmsman. “And where is the damned Lookout?” He asked, craning his neck to the empty crow’s nest above. “Helmsman, bring her right hard thirty degrees, then steady as she goes.” He said sternly. “Lookout, go back up the mast, now!” he commanded. “First Mate, below decks with me.” he snapped, as he walked back toward the mid-ship ladder.
Approaching the rails, he strained to see who held the mouth harp. Spying the shiny object in Arthur’s hand, he shouted, “And no more of that god-awful music! If I hear one more note coming from that organ tonight, there will never be another liberty in Rio again. That is all!” The Captain turned on his heels and stormed below decks, the First Mate close behind. The only sounds that followed were the methodical clicks of the Captain’s rear cabin windows locking down, and then a muffled one-man storm that raged with gale force for half an hour. Then, silence.
Arthur remembered the First Mate returning topside later, apparently angry with him, and curtly telling Arthur that he could not play his mouth organ on watch ever again. From that moment forward, Arthur’s treatment at the hands of the First Mate only became worse. The ill will seemed to emanate from the Captain, who began eyeing Arthur with disdain. He became increasingly harsh in his treatment of his cabin boy. The crew remained loyal to Arthur, and from that night on he had a new handle to pay honor to the special event. His mates referred to Arthur as The Harper , in humorous reverence of the Captain’s outburst.
In casual conversation, it was shortened simply to Harper. Sadly, the new name became a double-edged sword, being seized upon by the First Mate and the Captain in a much less flattering way. When they called him The Harper , it was meant to serve as a reminder to him and everyone else that his actions that fateful night had been unprofessional, and that he had put the entire crew and ship in danger. So adamant was the Captain about making the black mark stick, that he altered the ship's records to reflect his decision. The ship's log came to read, ‘Cabin Boy- Arthur Harper Alesworth.’
“Get naked, Black Jack!” Groggy snapped. Arthur reeled back to the present. “T’isn’t anything that these ladies haven’t seen before, mate!” Groggy said. He placed a small pot of seawater on an open corner of the coals, and stripped his clothes off. He continued, “I’ll show you how we make our soap.” He scooped out a handful of warm blubber near the top of the try-pot, and held it in his cupped palm. As it cooled, he sprinkled a white powder on it with his free hand, followed by a pinch of sand. He plunged it into a pot of cold water, and when it had become hard, he scooped it out and dropped it into the hot salt water. Black Jack watched as it sank to the bottom, streaming greasy trails behind it without dissolving completely. After a few moments, it began to bubble, and then it slowly floated to the surface, fizzing vigorously.
Groggy grabbed it and began to lather his body. “Better than what the Queen herself has in the royal toilet.” He exclaimed. “Just needs a touch of lavender!” He then rinsed himself clean by pouring a jar of cold, fresh water over his head. Arthur repeated his ritual.
When they had finished washing up, a woman came by and left a neatly folded stack of clean clothes sorted by size, for each man in the group. “Reminds me of what they gave us in prison.” remarked Groggy. “Eh, Happy?”
The other Brit grunted. The men donned their duds, pants first. Arthur noticed that the material was much like the cotton cloth back home; but it was slightly stiffer and not as soft. It was the color of old bone, and it had a very
Approaching the rails, he strained to see who held the mouth harp. Spying the shiny object in Arthur’s hand, he shouted, “And no more of that god-awful music! If I hear one more note coming from that organ tonight, there will never be another liberty in Rio again. That is all!” The Captain turned on his heels and stormed below decks, the First Mate close behind. The only sounds that followed were the methodical clicks of the Captain’s rear cabin windows locking down, and then a muffled one-man storm that raged with gale force for half an hour. Then, silence.
Arthur remembered the First Mate returning topside later, apparently angry with him, and curtly telling Arthur that he could not play his mouth organ on watch ever again. From that moment forward, Arthur’s treatment at the hands of the First Mate only became worse. The ill will seemed to emanate from the Captain, who began eyeing Arthur with disdain. He became increasingly harsh in his treatment of his cabin boy. The crew remained loyal to Arthur, and from that night on he had a new handle to pay honor to the special event. His mates referred to Arthur as The Harper , in humorous reverence of the Captain’s outburst.
In casual conversation, it was shortened simply to Harper. Sadly, the new name became a double-edged sword, being seized upon by the First Mate and the Captain in a much less flattering way. When they called him The Harper , it was meant to serve as a reminder to him and everyone else that his actions that fateful night had been unprofessional, and that he had put the entire crew and ship in danger. So adamant was the Captain about making the black mark stick, that he altered the ship's records to reflect his decision. The ship's log came to read, ‘Cabin Boy- Arthur Harper Alesworth.’
“Get naked, Black Jack!” Groggy snapped. Arthur reeled back to the present. “T’isn’t anything that these ladies haven’t seen before, mate!” Groggy said. He placed a small pot of seawater on an open corner of the coals, and stripped his clothes off. He continued, “I’ll show you how we make our soap.” He scooped out a handful of warm blubber near the top of the try-pot, and held it in his cupped palm. As it cooled, he sprinkled a white powder on it with his free hand, followed by a pinch of sand. He plunged it into a pot of cold water, and when it had become hard, he scooped it out and dropped it into the hot salt water. Black Jack watched as it sank to the bottom, streaming greasy trails behind it without dissolving completely. After a few moments, it began to bubble, and then it slowly floated to the surface, fizzing vigorously.
Groggy grabbed it and began to lather his body. “Better than what the Queen herself has in the royal toilet.” He exclaimed. “Just needs a touch of lavender!” He then rinsed himself clean by pouring a jar of cold, fresh water over his head. Arthur repeated his ritual.
When they had finished washing up, a woman came by and left a neatly folded stack of clean clothes sorted by size, for each man in the group. “Reminds me of what they gave us in prison.” remarked Groggy. “Eh, Happy?”
The other Brit grunted. The men donned their duds, pants first. Arthur noticed that the material was much like the cotton cloth back home; but it was slightly stiffer and not as soft. It was the color of old bone, and it had a very
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