A Story Of Watson

John Crittenden Watson does not belong to the list of "cnssing offlcers, " yet as a man-o'-war skipper he never had a man of his ship's company aft for ewearing. He was singularly indulgent of the hard swearers forward. "Hard language helps a man along oocasionally, " he has been known to say to one of his deck offlcers upon overhearing a stream of maledictions from the lips of some old flat f oot working at a stubborn job forward, "and it is better for the men to work off their wrath over fouled anchor chains iii cuss words than to take ifc out of eucu other's hide." Aboard one of the ships under Watson'scommandtherewas anoid bos'n'b mate named Fuller, who had the cal] throughout the whole navy as the champion profane man of the govermnent's line of packets. Fuller never raised his voice when he swore. He would simply stand back and quietly regard the inanimate object of his wrath - a bent belaying pin perhaps or a slack ridge rope - and then he would open up in an ordinary conversational tone. But the utterances he gave vent to were sulphurous. It always took Fuller a good five minutes to work off what he considered the uecessary number of remarks on such occasions, and it always seemed, when he was through, that he had quite exhausted the whole vocabulary of profanity. But this was a mistake. The very next time anything went wrong with a bit of Fuller's gear he would start in on a new line that would contain absolutely not a single repetition of any of his previous performances. It was always a source of wonder to iers snipmates, even tne oïcl timers, where he picked up the new ones, all of which were of startling originality and foree. These shipmates related only one instance in which he found himself at a loss for words. He was with a landing party from bis ship, marching on the outskirts of Chemnlpo, Korea. He stubbed his toe on a loóse bowlder in the road and feil on his face in the dnst. He picked himself up and looked at the road. He opened his mouth to say something, bnt he had no words. He was dumb with wrath. Two or three times he attempted to begin, but it was no go. He was stuck for once, so he pulled ont a pistol anddeliberatelyfired it into the air five times. He had to express his feeliugs in some way. When Fuller was serving aboard Watson's ship, he was in good shape, and his frequent quiet outbursts kept the forward part of the ship keyed up with wonder as to what was coming next. One morning at big gun drill Captain Watson himself was superintending the exercise. One of the wooden cartridges became jamrued in the breech of the 6 inch rifle to which he was devotmg most of his attention. He wouldn't permifc any of the gunner's mates around him to attempt to loosen the cartridge, but essayed the job himself. He tugged at the jammed cartridge and broke his finger nails over it, and still it wouldn't come out. It was a pretty hot morning on deck, and the perspiration began to roll off his face in streams, but he persisted in trying to loosen the stuck cartridge. He looked as if he would like to say a heap were he a swearing man, but he wasn't a swearing man. When he had been working for five minutes over the jammed cartridge with no success, he looked pretty helpless and miserable. He gave one final tug, but the 6tnck cartridge remained in the gun 's breech. The skipper gathered himself together, mopped his forehead and looked at the gun. "Confound it all," he broke out, "where's Fuller? Send me Fuller, somebody. " Fuller was on hand directly. He wasn't a gunner's mate, and he had nothing to do with the guns, but Watson wanted Fuller to tackle the jainmed cartridge all the same. "Fuller," said Watson, "try and get that dummy out of that gun. " Fuller looked at the stuck cartridge, and Watson retreated to the starboard side of the quarter deck. Fuller made two or three claws at the wooden cartridge, but it wouldn't come out. A gunner's mate could have got it out in a jiffy, but Fuller wasn't in that line oí the service. He tugged away, but it was no go. Watson stood regarding the horizon on the starboard side of the quarter deck. Fuller spat on his hands and made one more try. The dummy didn't move a tenth of an inch. Then Fuller mopped his forehead with his neckerchief , clapped his cap on the back of his head and opened up. It was great work, this performance of Fuller's, and no mistake. He eclipsed all of his mer efforta He stood with his hands on his sides, looking at the gun breech and saying things at it that no Morgan or Kidd or Teach or other heaven defying pirate could ever have equaled. The men stood around, just looking at Fuller in open mouthed amazeinent. They conldn't make out where he got them all. They were all in English, but the combinations were weird. The ■ tion was frightful, although delivered in the mildest tone imaginable. When Ful Ier finished, he mopped his f orehead with his neckerchief again and walked over to his commanding officer, who was looking over the starboard rail, apparently thinking deeply. Fuller saluted. "It's stuck proper, W, " said Fuller. "I can't get it adrif t " "Well," said Watson, "I didn't think you could, Fuller, but I needed you. Thanks. You did very well. Go forward. "