Boon Island - Kenneth Roberts [68]
Page 157
"What makes him like that?" I asked Captain Dean.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? The world is full of Langmans, believing in all sorts of worthless tarradiddle, but dondemning things that might help mankind. Newton's a case in point. He's shown the world something new and valuable, so the ignorant attack him. Like all ignorant people, they're stubborn about it, and angry for fear they may have to eat their words. The Langmans always refuse to look through the telescope."
"Maybe so," I said, "but if I were captain of this ship, I'd make Langman keep a civil tongue in his head."
"Well, you aren't captain, Miles," Captain Dean said, "and to be frank about it, I wish I weren't. I'm captain to please my brother Jasper. I'd rather be of some service to my country in foreign partsin America: Holland: Sweden, where I wouldn't be dealing day and night with sailors, who're forever seeing sea-serpents or the Flying Dutchman or privateers, and condemning everything decent like Isaac Newton or the reading of books."
He eyed me quizzically. "How would you make Langman keep a civil tongue in his head, Miles?"
"With a belaying pin, if I had to."
Captain Dean shook his head. "No, Miles. That wouldn't do. There's two ways of running a ship. One's by violence. The other's by letting the men think they're being consulted. I can't use violence, Miles, because I don't like violence. I'm afraid of it. I'm strong, and if I hit any man on this ship, I'd put my heart in it and wouldn't be able to keep my mind on my work for fear he'd be hurtkilled, maybe. Besides, Miles, we're shorthanded. A galley, by rights, should have a crew of twenty-five. We have fourteen, including you and me. I can't leave the quarter-deck
Page 158
to hand sails, and I can't risk losing a man for any reason. Don't expect heroics out of me, Miles. I'm just an ordinary individual, who has to go to the head like everyone else, makes mistakes like all the rest of the world, and is mighty glad he doesn't have to be burdened with listening to as many damned fools as surrounded Oliver Cromwell or Charles II."
On the seventh of August two sloops of war made signals indicating that they would convoy all merchant vessels wishing to proceed to northern Scotland or northern Ireland, and we soon learned that Captain Dean was right about the sailing qualities of the twelve vessels that moved off to the eastward to cluster around the sloops of war like fat goslings between two proud parent geese. They were slow, and by the time we had rounded the bulge of Norfolk and borne up into the North Sea, Captain Dean was in as much of a frenzy as a man so placid could be. His irritation was understandable, because in order to sail as slowly as the other tubs in the convoy, we carried nothing except topsails and headsails.
By the time we had reached the latitude of the north riding of York, with Whitby off our larboard beam, he sniffed the warm west breeze and could stand it no longer. "Get the rest of the sails on her, Mr. Langman," he shouted. "We've been five days coming this far, and alone we could have done it in two. Crowd on the canvas. We'll have this convoy hull-down by midafternoon, and be off the Orkneys tomorrow, sure as shooting."
Langman seemed horrified. "What do you want to do," he demanded, "throw this vessel away? What'll you do if you run into a privateer?"
Page 159
"Do?" Captain Dean asked. "Why, I'll do what any sailor'd do. I'll run from her. Before I ran, though, I'd want to make sure she was a privateer. One thing I learned long ago, Mr. Langman, is that nearly every time a sailor-man thinks he sees a Black Flag, it turns out to be the captain's overcoat hung up to dry. Get those sails on her."
"The men won't like it," Langman protested.