It was upon the waterfront that I first met her, in one of the shabbylittle tea shops frequented by able sailoresses of the poorer type.The uptown, glittering resorts of the Lady Aviators' Union were notfor such as she.
Stern of feature, bronzed by wind and sun, her age could only beguessed, but I surmised at once that in her I beheld a survivor of theage of turbines and oil engines—a true sea-woman of that elder timewhen woman's superiority to man had not been so long recognized. When,to emphasize their victory, women in all ranks were sterner thantoday's need demands.
The spruce, smiling young maidens—engine-women and stokers of thegreat aluminum rollers, but despite their profession, very neat ingold-braided blue knickers and boleros—these looked askance at thehard-faced relic of a harsher day, as they passed in and out of theshop.
I, however, brazenly ignoring similar glances at myself, a mere maleintruding on the haunts of the world's ruling sex, drew a chair upbeside the veteran. I ordered a full pot of tea, two cups and a plateof macaroons, and put on my most ingratiating air. Possibly myunconcealed admiration and interest were wiles not exercised in vain.Or the macaroons and tea, both excellent, may have loosened the oldsea-woman's tongue. At any rate, under cautious questioning, she hadsoon launched upon a series of reminiscences well beyond my hopes forcolor and variety.
"When I was a lass," quoth the sea-woman, after a time, "there wasnone of this high-flying, gilt-edged, leather-stocking luxury aboutthe sea. We sailed by the power of our oil and gasoline. If theyfailed on us, like as not 'twas the rubber ring and the rolling wavefor ours."
She referred to the archaic practice of placing a pneumatic affaircalled a life-preserver beneath the arms, in case of that dreadeddisaster, now so unheard of, shipwreck.
"In them days there was still many a man bold enough to join ourcrews. And I've knowed cases," she added condescendingly, "where justby the muscle and brawn of such men some poor sailor lass has reachedshore alive that would have fed the sharks without 'em. Oh, I ain't sodown on men as you might think. It's the spoiling of them that I don'thold with. There's too much preached nowadays that man is fit fornothing but to fetch and carry and do nurse-work in big child-homes.To my mind, a man who hasn't the nerve of a woman ain't fitted tofather children, let alone raise 'em. But that's not here nor there.My time's past, and I know it, or I wouldn't be setting here gossipin'to you, my lad, over an empty teapot."
I took the hint, and with our cups replenished, she bit thoughtfullyinto her fourteenth macaroon and continued.
"There's one voyage I'm not likely to forget, though I live to be asold as Cap'n Mary Barnacle, of the Shouter. 'Twas aboard the oldShouter that this here voyage occurred, and it was her last andlikewise Cap'n Mary's. Cap'n Mary, she was then that decrepit, itseemed a mercy that she should go to her rest, and in good salt waterat that.
"I remember the voyage for Cap'n Mary's sake, but most I remember itbecause 'twas then that I come the nighest in my life to committin'matrimony. For a man, the man had nerve; he was nearer bein'companionable than any other man I ever seed; and if it hadn't beenfor just one little event that showed up the—the mannishness ofhim, in a way I couldn't abide, I reckon he'd be keepin' house for methis minute."
"We cleared from Frisco with a cargo of silkateen petticoats forBrisbane. Cap'n Mary was always strong on petticoats. Leather breechesor even half-skirts would ha' paid