My own individual duties during these days lacked nothing on the score of variety. Turning-to at six o’clock, I proceeded to assist in scrubbing decks—as they call it in the Navy; washing down, as it is designated in the merchant service. A hose and a broom are in demand for this sea-ritual. Having satisfactorily completed this sanitary duty, I went aft and got all things in order for breakfast, and served at table whilst my seniors ate. Simple enough in the telling, but when the sea got up a bit, as it did about now, and the ship grew lively, not so simple in the actuality. Since no right-thinking man cares to have his breakfast spilt down the back of his neck, it behoved me to be careful, as I had no wish to figure as principal character at a coroner’s inquest. Another of my daily duties was to scrub out Sir Ernest’s cabin. Don’t, please, carry away from these pages an impression of a sumptuous stateroom. This sea-bedroom was little better than a glorified packing-case: it measured seven feet by six, and when you were in it you felt half-afraid to draw a full breath in case you carried something away or burst the bulkheads apart. The door of this cabin opened on the afterside; and on the port side was the bunk, stretching the entire length of the room, with drawers beneath and a single porthole above. A small washstand stood against the forrard bulkhead; shelves well-filled with books on the starboard side, and a small, collapsible chair completed the more elaborate furnishings. In addition, fixed to the forrard bulkhead, was a small, white-enamelled cabinet fitted with an oval mirror in the door, and an emergency oil-lamp for use when the electric supply gave out. That’s as good a description as I can give of this tabloid apartment, where you could do everything humanly possible without leaving one spot!
After daily breakfast I did whatever I was told to do—helped the cook to clean the galley and prepare the meals, took a trick at the helm, trimmed coal, gave a hand with the sails and rigging, and made myself generally useful. As one of my shipmates said: “It was a pity we had no clay aboard because I might have spent my leisure in making bricks!”
Wednesday, October 26, was a red-letter day: one to be recorded with all due solemnity. I had my wages raised! When cleaning out his cabin on this particular morning the Boss asked me what I had been doing in Aberdeen in addition to scouting. I told him that I had been at the University. Whereupon he laid the accolade upon my shoulders by saying, in that deep, pleasant voice of his which seemed designed to beat up against the fiercest gale that ever blew: “Well, you’re pleasing me very much so far, and I want to increase your pay to £12 a month. That will help pay your fees when you get back to the Granite City.”