Rich Man's Coffin Read Free

Arthur, and an ounce for himself.   Lifting his shot glass, he nodded to Arthur as he extended his arm.   “Cheers!”   He said, waiting for Arthur.   Arthur was poised for nothing. Suddenly, awareness flashed across his face, and he quickly leaned forward splashing his cognac.   The Captain clinked his drink against Arthur’s and threw back the hearty port in one swallow.   Slapping his glass down on the desk, he said, “Welcome aboard the Elizabeth , Arthur!”
              Arthur lifted himself timidly, sipping from the jigger without tipping it, and replied with a slight slur. “Thank you, sah.”
              The Captain reclined.   “Now, Arthur.   The First Mate tells me that you want to be a whaler.   Is this true?”
              “Yes, sah.   I hear it's good.”   Said Arthur. The brisk harbor air washed through an open porthole and flooded his gently plied mind. Staring at the bright white walls, his eyes began to swim.
              “That’s excellent,” replied the Captain.   “Because we have an offer that you cannot refuse.”   The Captain’s words echoed in Arthur’s ears.   “Right now, we have several openings which we are hoping to close.   We have made some changes within our staff, and we are looking for some very quality personnel to fill the gaps around here.   There are some general seaman jobs available; however, there are also a handful of other, more select positions which we are offering to the right people.”
    The thought of the job swirled in Arthur’s head.   Where was the Master dragging him by the cuff?   Where is the whip? He wondered.
    The Captain continued, “Now, you are a Negro, are you not?”
              Arthur snapped out of his daydream, stammering, “Y-yes... I believe so.   My folks came from Africa first, if that’s what you mean.”
    “That is fine.   You have never sailed in a ship yourself, though, correct?”
              “No.”   Said Arthur.
              “Very well.   Now, I understand that your people have had some hard times in this country.”
              “What do you mean?”
              “Well, with this issue of slavery and gross mistreatment and such.   You see, our laws don’t allow any of that in my country.   I don’t own slaves, for sure, nor would I want to.   With all of this talk about liberty, freedom, and justice that this country brags about   -- no offense to you   -- we just think that your people are not sharing in those so-called ideals.   We want to help you.”
              “Well, you know, I’m all right, sah.   We get along all right.”
              The Captain paused, turned to his First Mate who gave a nod, and then said, “Well, Arthur, my point is, we’re prepared to charge you with a commission on this fine vessel which will elevate your privilege beyond what the average sailor will experience during the next few months at sea.   Here it is:   I want you to be my personal assistant, to be by my side in all of my most sensitive operations, and to take care of some very important jobs for me.   How does that sound?”
              “I don’t know, sah.   If you’ll have me, then I guess I’ll try.   Jes’ don’t give me something too important to handle. I don’t want to mess somethin’ up.”
              The Captain slapped his palm down on the desk, and exclaimed, “Arthur!   I think you’ll do just fine!   I think that you’ll find that this opportunity is just what you’ve been looking for.   From what we’ve seen already, we really want you!   Do you think you can handle it?”
              Arthur considered his options.   It was either brave the cold in Philadelphia scouring for work, or who knew what else, he thought.   This offer sounded like the answer to his prayers and persistence.   He perked up. "Well, yes sah!   I'll do the