University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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THE DERELICT 21 “Tom Draak!” “Here!” A ponderous Swede shuffled across the deck. “Donald Me Angus !” A burly Scot followed to starboard. The captain regarded the paper carefully before he read the next. “Satan Carillo!” “Here!” responded a melodious voice, as a fine featured little Italian touched his cap, and, smiling pleasantly, joined the other two. Captain Bellnay glared alternately at the shipping master and at the cherubic owner of the sinister name. “What’s the idea?” he cried angrily, turning to the shipping master, “didn’t I tell you no Dagos need apply?” A shadow passed over the Italian’s face, only to vanish as quickly as it had come. “What do you expect on short notice?” returned the shipping master hotly. “You signed for sixteen men and you’ll take these sixteen men or lay over a day, and that’s that”, he concluded with decision. “Besides, this ain’t no Dago. He’s a Greek Islands.” “But his name is Dago”, objected the captain. “Now see here, Cap’n”, said the shipping master, “I ain’t got no time to fool. There’s lots of people as has names like his in America, and they’re just as good Americans as you or me. If you don’t want the crew, say so. There’s the ‘Belle Isle’ over there as’ll take ’em.” “Ask the man himself”, prompted the mate. The captain yielded to the suggestion. “Satan Carillo.” The seaman stepped forward. “Where were you born?” asked the captain. “Greek Islands,” was the ready answer. “Parents?”

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The Derelict Eustace Cullman, Jr., ’25 I. HE shipping master climbed over the port rail of the good ship “Lady Louise”, his broad, leathery face aglow with honest satisfaction. “Here they be, Captain Bellnay, and as fine a crew as ever I’ve shipped”, he called out enthusiastically, addressing his remarks to a short, intelligent-looking man who was leaning against the opposite rail in company with a huge giant of a mate. After the master came the crew, “as fine as he had ever shipped.” It was the typical complement of an outgoing American deep water vessel—the motley gang of nut-browned, tar-stained foreigners, in their canvas sea jackets, smirched with the accumulated grime of many and distant voyages. Each, as he climbed onto the deck, tossed with a sailorly heave, his clothes-bag upon the dunnage pile, and then joined his shipmates by the capstan as they stood waiting patiently to be counted. Captain Bellnay and the mate looked the crew over with evident disgust. “Where did he round up that nest of wharf-rats?” exclaimed the captain, irritably. “There’s not a first class sailor in the bunch, if I’m a judge!” The mate slowly turned the quid of tobacco over and over in his mouth before replying. “A rotten deal”, he said, “a gang o’ lubbers sure. But time, an’ patience, an’ a be-layin’ pin can round ’em out.” Already the shipping master was approaching with the lists and his receipts. “Tally ’em off, will you, Cap’ll Bellnay? Here’s the names.” The captain took the list dubiously, and with lowered brow approached the crew. “Answer your names as they are called”, he said roughly, “and then form along the rail.”

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22 THE IGNAT I AN “Italia.” “Then you are a Dago; you speak the lingo.” The face of the seaman clouded. It was plain that he felt the insult; yet he answered respectfully, “Parents, Italia; me Greek Islands.” “Have you ever been in Calcutta?” “Me?” The seaman’s eyes opened in astonishment and candor. “Me, Calcutta? Hong-Kong, Yokohama, si; Calcutta?” lie shook his head. “P’raps”, he said after a moment’s pause, “p’raps my cousin. Him mucha like me, only got plenty whisk’,” and his nimble hands were up all over and around his face. You could almost see the whiskers growing. “Vcr’ bad man. Ver’ bad man.” He lowered his voice and looked around in evident fear. “P’raps”, he said, “Carbonaro.” A load seemed lifted from the captains mind. Greek or no Greek this man had no sympathy with the Carbonari. He turned to the shipping master and said, “All right; I take the crew.” The roll was soon called; the shipping master took his leave; the Lady Louise was heading for the ocean. II. The day was ideal and cheering to the sailor’s heart, as under full sail the Lady Louise coquetted with the frolicsome swells of the ocean. Gracefully she rose and fell, seeming to enjoy her freedom as much as the jack-tars who were gathered here and there upon the deck. Captain and mate stood apart conversing. The Italian, too, was apart; in appearance, watching a sail on the distant horizon; in reality, conversing with himself in the recesses of his heart. He was smiling, though his smile was not good to sec. He was speaking in his native tongue. “Bah!” lie was saying, “how easily with my whiskered cousin I fooled the captain—my cousin safe and far away in