“See that knife on his hip? I offered him five dollars for it, and he wouldn’t sell.”
The Captain looked my way, and I suspected that he could see the anger on my face. I was tempted to pour the hot brew over the Mate’s head. But I didn’t. Instead, I slowly freshened his coffee, as well, and stepped away.
“Well, it’s his knife.”
“A month’s wages for a dagger,” the Mate answered back, shaking his head. “No, he’s just stupid. Guess it really doesn’t matter, though, as he’ll lose it in some dingy alley before the trip’s over.”
The square of the skipper’s shoulders told me that he sensed the threat. With a serious expression, he gazed directly across to the Mate. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve seen Mr. Blackwell in an alley fight. If anyone tries to waylay him, they’ll get their guts spoiled.”
The Mate quickly twisted his head towards me. “You’ve seen him in a fight?”
“Yes, and when it was over, two sailors could hardly walk. I’d have him at my back anytime. Therefore, if I were you, I’d drop this business of the knife. It would be healthier for all concerned.”
And that’s what happened. The Mate never again said a word about my sea knife, and he seemed to respect me more after the Captain’s warning. While we weren’t friends, whatever fear I had of him disappeared that night.
After cleaning up from each evening’s meals, I liked to walk the deck on clear days and watch the spectacular sunsets. Looking astern, I watched the thousand twinkles of colorful sunlight dancing off the water. Then I’d marvel at the color and size of the sun as it descended into the western sky. Sometimes I played my flute and dreamed that the breeze would blow my music home. If it was cloudy, with a fresh wind, I’d walk to the bowsprit and ride it like a bull. With the wind and spray on my face, I watched the porpoise play in our wake. As their sleek bodies twisted in the coral-blue seas, I dreamed of home and what the future might bring. These were special times for thinking of special people. Sometimes loneliness adds beauty to life. It adds an extraordinary meaning to sunsets and seas, while making the night air smell better.
A few mornings later, while checking the fishing lines, I heard the lookout, aloft in the crosstree, report land two points off the weather bow. It was the Island of Sao Vicente of Portuguese-controlled Cape Verdes. The next day, we entered the fourteen-mile channel between the islands of Sao Thiago and Maio. The length of the passage from the Boston Light had been forty-two days.
CAPE VERDES
WITH THE FLAGSHIP IN THE LEAD, WE steered close to Maio Island. An hour later, we found four ships anchored in a protected cove close to the shore. As the Columbia reefed sails and came close to the ships, Captain Kendrick used a voice horn to make inquiries.
He learned that three of the ships were American whalers, awaiting livestock that they had purchased from a local dealer. In the shouted out conversation, the Commodore was told that the price being paid to the dealer was quite reasonable, so he came about and dropped anchor in the inlet. The sloop did the same and came to rest just a hundred yards from the flagship.
When the Mate removed the long glass from his eye, I overheard him ask Captain Gray, “Why the hell are we stopping?”
“I have no idea,” the skipper answered. “I’m sure the Commodore will let us know.”
Sure enough, the flags of council were soon flying.
After returning from the meeting, the skipper briefed Mr. Coolidge.
“The Commodore has the notion to purchase the livestock here and then continue on to Porto Praya for the other supplies.”
The Mate looked confused. “Sir, didn’t you tell me that the owners gave specific instructions to buy all ships supplies at Porto Praya?”
“Yes… but I’m not disagreeing with Captain Kendrick, as he’s in a foul mood. There’s something afoot on his ship…so let’s load the livestock and get on with it.”
The next day, the Commodore purchased one hundred and forty goats, two bulls, a cow, three hogs, and three sheep. But it took six days before the animals were delivered. By that time we were alone in the cove. As each of the other ships departed, they held farewell parties for all the officers. Much merriment and drinking could be heard over the still, coral waters of the inlet.
Standing at the rail, waiting for the animals on that last day, Captain Gray approached and asked how I had found the first leg of our voyage.
“I enjoyed it, sir. Forty-two days at sea passed quickly. How many miles did we travel?”
“From the Boston Light, forty-one-hundred miles.”
Without really thinking, I answered back, “So we averaged just over four miles an hour, or about three knots.”
The Captain was surprised by my quick calculations. “You’ve got a good mind for numbers, Joe. But it was a slow passage. With full sheets, I could have made it in thirty-six days.”
His face showed frustration as he turned and walked away.
Early that afternoon, with the decks filled with livestock, we weighed anchor. With a fresh, warm breeze, we reached the mouth of the harbor of Porto Praya late the next morning and dropped anchor. Then both ships shot their signal cannons and raised the Q-flags. These yellow pennants requested permission to enter the port. An hour later, the authorities rowed out and inspected the ships’ papers, crew, and cargo. Finding no reason for quarantine, the ships were granted a pratique, or license, to enter the harbor.
As we approached the bright, colorful port, I was taken with her beauty. The green hills that surrounded the little harbor were dotted with small, white stucco cottages and a few tall churches with red tile roofs. All the streets seemed to snake down the hillside to the main square of the town, just up from the piers. The air was filled with sweetness, and the white sandy beaches glistened in the sun. It looked very much the way I had envisioned a Mediterranean seaport might be, and I hoped for shore leave to do some exploring.
After making arrangements with the harbormaster, both ships were moored at the public docks in front of the town square. Here, many of the local Africans came to look with curiosity at the two American ships. They were strange looking people, with skin as black as midnight and clothes as colorful as a rainbow. But they were friendly bunch, waving and smiling at the crew.
After helping to secure the Orphan, I went back to work, tending the animals in the tropical sun. As I went from crate to crate, giving them water, Captain Gray approached.
“I have a job for you, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you remember the three bales of tobacco you stowed in the forward hold?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get
