they had had to perform their ship's duty, and, in addition, by
immemorial sea custom, they had had to be the slaves of the ordinary and
able-bodied seamen. When they became ordinary seamen they were still the
slaves of the able-bodied. Thus, in the forecastle, with the watch
below, an able seaman, lying in his bunk, will order an ordinary seaman
to fetch him his shoes or bring him a drink of water. Now the ordinary
seaman may be lying in _his_ bunk. He is just as tired as the able
seaman. Yet he must get out of his bunk and fetch and carry. If he
refuses, he will be beaten. If, perchance, he is so strong that he can
whip the able seaman, then all the able seamen, or as many as may be
necessary, pitch upon the luckless devil and administer the beating.

My problem now becomes apparent. These hard-bit Scandinavian sailors had
come through a hard school. As boys they had served their mates, and as
able seamen they looked to be served by other boys. I was a boy--withal
with a man's body. I had never been to sea before--withal I was a good
sailor and knew my business. It was either a case of holding my own with
them or of going under. I had signed on as an equal, and an equal I must
maintain myself, or else endure seven months of hell at their hands. And
it was this very equality they resented. By what right was I an equal? I
had not earned that high privilege. I had not endured the miseries they
had endured as maltreated boys or bullied ordinaries. Worse than that, I
was a land-lubber making his first voyage. And yet, by the injustice of
fate, on the ship's articles I was their equal.

My method was deliberate, and simple, and drastic. In the first place, I
resolved to do my work, no matter how hard or dangerous it might be, so
well that no man would be called upon to do it for me. Further, I put
ginger in my muscles. I never malingered when pulling on a rope, for I
knew the eagle eyes of my forecastle mates were squinting for just such