Davy Jones’s Gift

Davy Jones’s Gift

By John Masefield

From A Tarpaulin Muster by John Masefield (1907). Excerpt

“Once upon a time,” said the sailor, “the Devil and Davy Jones came to Cardiff, to the place called Tiger Bay. Thy put up at Tony Adams’, not far from Pier Head, at the corner of Sunday Lane. And all the time they stayed there they used to be going to the rum shop, where they sat at a table smoking their cigars and dicing each other for different persons’ souls. Now, you must know that the Devil gets landsmen and Davy Jones gets sailor-folk and they get tired of having always the same, so then they dice each other for some of another sort.

“One time they were in a place in Mary Street having some burnt brandy and playing red and black for the people passing. And while they were looking out on the street and turning their cards, they saw all the people of the sidewalk breaking their necks to get into the gutter. And they saw all the shop people running out and kowtowing and all the carts pulling up and all the police saluting. “Here comes a big nob,” said Davy Jones. “Yes,” said the Devil, “it’s the bishop that’s stopping with the mayor.” “Red or black?” Well, I say red,” said the Devil. “It’s the ace of clubs,” said Davy Jones; “I win; and it’s the first bishop ever I had in my life.” The Devil was mighty angry at that – at losing a bishop. “I’ll not play any more,” he said; “I’m off home. Some people gets too good cards for me. There was some queer shuffling when that pack was cut, that’s my belief.”

“Ah, stay and be friends, man,” said Davy Jones. “Look at what’s coming down the street. I’ll give you that for nothing.”

Davy Jones's Gift. Photo by Elena

“Now, coming down the street there was a reefer – one of those apprentice fellows. And he was brass-bound fit to play music. He stood about six feet, and there were bright brass buttons down his jacket, and on his collar and on his sleeves. His cap had a big gold badge with a house-flag in seven different colors in the middle of it, and a gold chain cable of a chinstay twisted round it. He was wearing his cap on three hairs, and he was walking on both the sidewalks and all the road. His trousers were cut like wind-sails round the ankles. He had a fathom of red silk tie rolling out over his chest. He’d a cigarette in a twisted clay holder a foot and a half long. He was chewing tobacco over his shoulders as he walked. He’d a bottle of rum-hot in one hand, a bag of jam tarts in the other, and his pockets were full of love letters from every port between Rio and Callao, round by the east.

“You mean to say you’ll give me that?” said the Devil. “I will,” said Davy Jones, “and a beauty he is. I never see a finer.” Ge us indeed a beauty,” said the Devil. “I take back what I said about the cards. I’m sorry I spoke crusty. What’s the matter with some more burnt brandy?” “Burnt brandy be it,” said Davy Jones. So then they rang the bell and ordered a new jug and clean glasses.

“Now, the Devil was so proud of what Davy Jones had given him, he couldn’t keep away from him. He used to hang about the East Bute Docks, under the red brick clock-tower, looking at the barque the young man worked aboard. Bill Harker his name was. He was in a West Coast barque. The Colonel loading fuel for Hilo. So at last, when the Colonel was sailing, the Devil shipped himself aboard her, as one of the crowd inn the fo’c’sle, and away they went down the Channel. At first he was very happy, for Bill Harker was in the same watch and the two would yarn together. And though he was wise when he shipped, Bill Harker taught him a lot. There was a lot of things Bill Harker knew about. But when they were off the River Plate, they got caught in a pampero, and it blew very hard and a big green sea began to run.

The Colonel was a wet ship, and for three days you could stand upon her poop and look forward and see nothing but a smother of foam from the break of the poop to the jibboom. The crew had to roost on the poop…