human
Legend says truth is a naked lady dwelling in the bottom of a well, and so up we must drag her and cast a rag upon her lest her beauty be a-dazzling us, or will it be that she's a Gorgon and no beauty?--I can't say. Turn our heads, and faith, don't she go down again to the bottom of the well, the way we've had our labor for nothing? I've heard of no man ever lay with her and lived to tell of it, let alone having any get of her at all.
gpt
Unless it was Socrates, and 'tis very true he died.
human
To my business, Mr. Kenny, and I'll have done. I'm here, sir, to inquire if there be an opportunity for me to ship aboard your _Artemis_ on her next outward passage. Caution settled on Mr. Kenny's face like cold.
gpt
I must tell you, sir, the way I've fallen enamored of the little sea-witch, I'd count it better than a berth on any full-rigged ship I know. Call it a seaman's fancy. I have mate's papers--captain's for that matter, but no man could replace Mr. Jenks, there'd be never no such thought in me mind. Indeed, Mr. Kenny, were I offered a command at present I think I'd refuse, now that's no lie. I think I'm not of a mind for it, though I have captained a vessel twice in the past and done well enough as the world judges. But if any lesser berth be available with _Artemis_, I'm ready, sir--ready to offer twenty years' experience of the sea and the best devotion a man can give at all.
human
But if you have captain's papers, I can't suppose you'd wish to sign on for small pay and scant authority.
gpt
I think, sir, if the vessel were the _Artemis_, the position of mate would find me content as any man on salt water, now that's no lie. Truth is I love ships, Mr. Kenny; I know a fair one when I see her. Mother of God, in the old days, the ships I'd see standing out from Sligo Bay, and I too young to follow! I'm a Sligo man, Mr. Kenny, born in Dromore forty-one years ago and can't bear the life on the bloody beach. Steady as she goes!--it's I need a deck under me feet or I'm not living.
human
Jan Dyckman hath sailed as mate with Mr. Jenks a long time now. I can't imagine Mr. Jenks considering any other in the room of him.
gpt
Still, said Shawn, his head on one side, his smile perhaps no more than a flicker of the candles--
human
I am the owner, said Mr. Kenny stiffly,
gpt
And very just, sir. I was but thinking this Mr. Dyckman might be ready for a command himself, in one of your other vessels--thus an advancement for him, an opportunity for me.
human
I see.... At present I own but two others, Mr. Shawn, one a mere sloop. The other is a ship that should now be at Virginia, a fair sturdy vessel, but she won't be homeward-bound for some months--Captain Foster is intending a triangle course, Barbados and then home. Further, I fear Jan Dyckman himself hath no wish for a captain's place. Splendid fellow, but by his own estimation a natural second in command, who tells me his ambition flies no higher. 'Tis true --John Kenny's head slanted back and he was looking down his nose--
gpt
What is that complement, sir, may I ask?
human
She put out last August with fourteen hands. Came home with ten--smallpox and tropic fever. Three of the ten were new men Mr. Jenks signed on at Kingston. Worked her on the homeward passage with three men and a boy to a watch. I dare say the cook was obliged to turn a hand in dirty weather--he's a renegade Frenchman, by the way, and utterly mad.
gpt
Sir, if a cook aboard ship be not mad he must become so, a law of nature. Why, I recall one we had when I captained the sloop _Viceroy_, King William's time--she was for Naples out of Bristol and a pleasant passage, the most of it. Rot my liver if this cook didn't go overboard off Malta--in a moderate gale, mind you--crying that a pack of Sirens was corrupting the ship's boys and he'd have 'em flayed for it, and all the time wasn't it only the wind in the stays? A Yorkshireman, and broad in the beam with a list to la'board from a broken leg that'd healed somewhat crook. No Sirens that day, and didn't I put about to fish him out of the drink?--the more fool me, for he was na' but a bundle of disaster ever after. His fancy, d'you see, took another turn--O the child he was, the great smiling angry child!--and he'd have it he must train the weevils in our biscuit to be the like of some educated fleas he'd seen, I think it was at the Cambridge Fair, and he all in a frenzy when they wouldn't answer to the names he gave 'em but continued weevils, nothing more. Mother of God, had he wished he could've had fleas a-plenty, Bristol fleas, the best in the world. Well, there was Jemima, Hannibal, Simon, Jasper--many more I forget. His time passed in shaking more of 'em out of the biscuit and bidding 'em increase and multiply in the bottom of a stewpot, the way he saw his fortune made the day we'd raise Land's End once more, but it did so happen, Mr. Kenny, on a brisk golden afternoon, that a cross-wind caught us for a moment, and no blame to vessel or man, over went the stewpot, and someone stepped on Jemima, and here was fourteen stone of redheaded Yorkshireman coming at me with a knife, for he declared the fault was mine. We were obliged to tie him below. For the rest of the voyage the cooking was done by a highland Scot from Inverness, 'tis a mystery of God we didn't all die--no Scottishmen present, I hope?... Well, I think I would not despise the place of second mate if the vessel was your _Artemis_, now that's no lie. Nowadays a berth is hard to find.
human
Sir, sir, said Mr. Kenny,
gpt
Oh, there was not, seeing it was the cook himself who stepped on her, the blacker the day.... As you can see, Mr. Kenny, I am not at present in prosperity. Perhaps before now I have aimed too high, rejecting opportunities that I ought to have considered.
human
Have you a family, sir?
gpt
A widower, sir, of modest habit, with never no stomach for riot or extravagance. I married young in the old country (God comfort her!) and when my wife died in childbirth thanks to a certain damned English midwife who probably--Oh, I can see it now---- Mr. Shawn stopped, and lifted frowning eyes as if startled by some remote vision beyond the walls; he finished his wine at a gulp.
human
Your pardon, sir--my wits were wandering. When my wife died and the little one with her--it was long ago--I took to the sea at last, and since then the ships have been wife and child,
gpt
It would be best, said Mr. Kenny,
human
I understand that, sir, and I thank you. Daniel Shawn's neck was flushed, the old scar throbbing, a lightly breathing snake.
gpt
You're the fair man, Mr. Kenny, and if 'tis my good luck to serve in your employ, I'll give a man's best, more I can't say.
human
Mr. Shawn, let me fill your glass. Will you stay the night? I'd be pleased to save you the walking home in the dark.
gpt
Oh, I must be going, but a thousand thanks for the thought, and I'm happy the glass is full so I may drink your health, Mr. Kenny, and the continuance of all good fortune to you, sir!