Rich Man's Coffin Read Free Page A

job."
              The Captain smiled and nodded.   "That's the spirit, Arthur.   You'll see that you've made the right choice.   Now, there's a small matter of a contract that we need to square away. Then the First Mate can see you to your quarters and get you your uniforms."   The Captain's smile began to slip away and his movements became less hurried as he rifled through his drawers.   "Ah, here it is.   Now, this just states that you agree to provide service to the ship for one full year in return for berthing and grub, and the rest is just quite simple, really.   You can read it later.   Just sign here."   Said The Captain, as he slid the contract across the desk with a single, middle digit turned straight down. He handed Arthur a quill with his free hand while holding the paper in place with his sharply pointed finger.
              Arthur hesitated.   He had signed his name only once in his life.   As before, he carefully scrawled a large A , followed by some wavy lines.   It sufficed.   The Captain snatched the contract back and held it up to his knitted brow.   He motioned for the First Mate, who stepped forward and hurriedly signed as a witness. The Captain lit his wax stick and smashed his official seal onto the document.   He tossed the paper with a spin to the side of his desk and folded his hands behind his head.
              "Very well.   That is all.   The First Mate will explain everything to you. Mate, see the Cabin Boy to his chamber, if you would be so kind."
              The First Mate stepped up to Arthur and said, "Let's go, sailor." He pointed to the door.   Arthur stood, confused, and shuffled out.   He stopped down the passageway a bit, realizing that the First Mate had not followed him.   Arthur heard low voices again.   He heard the Captain say, ...and douse that nigger down.   Jesus Christ, he smells worse than a dead whale.   When he's dried and dressed, have him empty my chamber pot.   Then have him pump the bilge. I can see shite floating around down there. With that, the Captain and the First Mate began laughing insanely. The First Mate came bounding out.
              "Aye, aye, Captain."   He chuckled grotesquely, as he curtly shooed Arthur down the passageway.

 
    Chapter 4
     
    "Station the piloting party!"   Yelled the First Mate at regular intervals as he roved the ship.   It was a cry that struck dread and ecstasy alike in the hearts of sailors, depending on the time of day, condition of weather, or purpose of the particular port of call at hand.
              This day it came at dawn on a clear and beautiful April morning.   It was only the second time that Arthur had heard the order issued, the last having been departing Philadelphia.   Now, more than two months later, the command came as a welcomed announcement that heralded the impending mooring of the ship to dry land.   Arthur would walk on earth once again, he thought, at a place that his shipmates had raved about in anticipation for weeks. They had even begun to sing songs about this wonderful destination, called Rio de Janeiro.
              The ship had been forced to sail a course well outside the Gulf Stream, and in so doing, had avoided all of the Caribbean Sea and its legendary liberty spots.   Arthur had suffered rolling ocean for seventy-five straight days.   He looked forward to escaping the confines of the ship, and to eating something other than the sailor’s soup of hard bread boiled soft in seawater.
              The ship had been well supplied at the beginning of the voyage, with extra stocks of bulk items being stacked in passageways and other hidden places; but, one by one, certain things had begun to run out at different times throughout the trip, until all that remained was the barest essentials of survival.   The coffee had been one of the last things to go, and its absence compounded the misery of missing tobacco.   The