Chapter 9

In a day or two after the vessel got to sea the mates got better and went to duty, and the skipper seemed to take a pleasure in abusing and worrying them, although it was evident from their appearance that they had suffered severely from the swamp fever, and had not been shamming, as the captain intimated.

In fact, the latter turned out to be a regular sea-tyrant, and Lee soon found that life under him would be intolerable.

The crew were a mixed lot, mostly Norwegians and Dagos, whom the captain had shipped at low wages. Some of them hardly understood a word of English; and before the week was out the captain almost killed a poor Portuguese by striking him with a belaying-pin because he misunderstood an order while at the wheel.

That night the second-mate talked to Lee during his watch, and asked him how he came to ship.

Lee told him his story.

"Well, my lad, my advice to you is to run away as soon as we reach Havana. The captain is also part owner, and he will never pay you any wages, if by any chance he can avoid it, while he is likely to do you harm if you cross him."

"Why do you stop on board?" asked Lee.

"Because he owes me several months' wages, and I cannot afford to lose it. But you mind what I tell you, and get away the first chance."

Among the crew of the Traveler, Lee had found a Cuban lad of about his own age, named Diego, whom Captain Bristol had inveigled into shipping as a cabin-boy, on a previous voyage to Havana.

He had been five or six months on board the vessel, and began to speak English pretty fluently, but in a broken way, and with many sailor expressions.

One evening, at sea, he came up to Lee and said:

"My name is Diego. What is your name?"

Lee told him.

"I came from Havana. Where did you come from?"

Lee related his story in a few words.

"Just the same with me," said Diego, when he had finished. "I've got no father, no mother; but I'll not stop here. The captain treats me like a slave. When we get to Havana, we go ashore, eh?"

Lee had for some time thought he had better get out of the Traveler, if he could only see his way to do so. But he said:

"Where would we go, and what would we do, Diego? I have to get a living, and would only have to look for another vessel to take me home, and that might not be so easy to get."

Diego smiled knowingly.

"You see, I've got an aunt, and she lives at Regla," he said. "She's a good old woman, but very poor. We can sleep in her house, though, till we find something to do."

Lee did not promise, although Diego returned to the subject several times. But on the morning that the vessel entered Havana the captain gave him a violent blow with his fist, because he was not quick enough in bringing him his spyglass from the cabin, and this determined Lee finally, and he went forward and told Diego he was ready to go at the first chance.

"All right," replied the Cuban; "I'll keep my eyes open and mouth shut."

It was a lovely morning as Lee stood forward and entered the first foreign port in which he had ever been, glancing up at the frowning Morro Castle at the entrance, close to which all vessels must pass, and seeing the great guns pointing at them from the embrasures in the old walls, the quaint turrets or sentry-boxes, painted in red and yellow, with the sentinels pacing up and down, with polished muskets and bayonets, and dressed in uniforms of white linen.

Then opened the view of the great harbor within, filled with shipping, and the town beyond, with houses having no chimneys and painted in white and red, and green and pink, with nodding palms and other tropical foliage growing--all strange enough to a lad who had been all his life north of Cape Cod.

When they had been boarded by the health officer and the custom house officials, the Traveler came to anchor, and for a time all were busy in furling sails and cleaning up the decks, while the captain took a boat and went off to see his consignees.

All day they lay quiet, as the captain did not return and there were no orders to begin to discharge, but toward evening a bumboat came off, with fresh bread, fruits and other things to sell to the crew.

In the bumboat was a boy of about Diego's age, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance and playmate, and who seemed very much surprised at seeing him on board the American vessel.

Diego went down and had a whispered talk with him, which resulted in his beckoning to Lee to come down. The second-mate was in charge of the deck, and if he saw them go he took no notice.

Lee had no clothes to take, as he had only two shirts--one flannel and one woven undershirt, which he had up to this time worn in turn, while he washed the other--and both were becoming well worn out.

In view of a chance of running away, he had put them both on, in spite of the heat of the day.

Diego's friend pushed them into a little cubby-hole under the half-deck of the bumboat, saying in Spanish, which Diego translated to Lee:

"Lie there, lads, and we'll put you on shore at Regla all right."

The place was hot and stuffy and there was hardly room to turn round, but they were so anxious to get away that they lay perfectly still for at least an hour.

Then the bumboat shoved off to return to the shore, and in fifteen minutes Lee stood upon foreign soil for the first time. Forlorn and strange enough he felt, too, and if it had not been for Diego, would have felt almost inclined to go back to the Traveler and her tyrant of a captain.

Every sight and sound which met him when he landed was different from any he had ever experienced before. Long drays, drawn by mules covered with tasseled harness and bells, and driven by half-naked negroes, groups of dark-complexioned men, with sashes round their waists and gay handkerchiefs on their heads, on top of which they wore felt or straw hats.

They talked with great energy and many gestures as they smoked their cigars. Diego said they were stevedores and other laborers who had just finished their day's work.

The streets were paved with small cobble stones, or else not paved at all, and the sidewalk was very narrow and elevated, more like a beach than a walk, and everybody seemed to take to the middle of the street.

Nobody took any notice of the two lads, for sailors were no rarity in those parts, and they worked their way along the narrow, crowded, noisy streets, sometimes jumping to one side to avoid a mule dray or some heavy burden, carried by a number of negroes upon their heads, the bearers singing in chorus to warn people out of the way.

Occasionally they met a lady dressed in white, with bare head and fan in hand, who had driven down in her volante to fetch a father or a husband from his place of business.

This vehicle struck Lee as being very odd. It was a sort of large, open gig, mounted on very high wheels and drawn by a horse at the end of very long shafts, which kept him several feet from the volante.

The horse was always ridden by a black postillion in gorgeous livery, glazed hat and cockade, and enormous boots, who cracked a whip with a noise like pistol-shots, to show that an important person was coming.

A number of times Lee stopped to look at the novel sights about him, but at last Diego said:

"Come on now, Lee. We're still some ways from my Aunt Dolores, and she always goes to bed with the chickens."

Trudging on, over the rough, slippery stones, they at last turned up a side street of poor habitations, most of them in sad want of soap and water, as well as paint and whitewash, and about half-way up the block came to an open door, at which sat a chocolate-colored, withered old woman, who was smoking a very long, thin cigar.

Diego stepped up to her and said, in Spanish:

"Dear aunt, do you not know me?"

The old woman stared at him a moment with her dim eyes, as she took the cigar from her mouth, and then she jumped up and exclaimed, in the same language:

"It is Diego! my Diego!"

And with that she flung her arms about him, hugged and kissed him, and talked at such a rate that all the neighbors came to see what had happened. At last Diego got clear of her, and turned to Lee, saying:

"She says they heard that I had gone off to the ends of the earth with a confounded Gringo Yankee, and I was gone so long she thought I must be dead."

Then he turned to the old woman and continued:

"Here is a Yankee friend of mine, who is a good fellow. We have had hard times, and I want you to let us sleep here to-night, and to-morrow we will look for something to do. We have had enough to eat for to-day, and so we only want shelter."

Old Dolores, Diego's aunt, was a washerwoman. She employed one or two girls during the day, but they had now gone home, and she was alone in the house; so she took the lads in and spread some sheets on ironing-tables in a back room, which opened upon a little court, with high stone walls, and there they lay down, and in spite of the numerous curious smells, and of the hardness of their beds, were soon asleep.