A Hot Bath

By Rev. Harold Short

KWARUME-TAU, sea-cook, bought a huge crab at our first anchorage. He put it in the saloon bath, which made up in depth what the construction of the ship did not permit in length.

That bath seems an after-thought of the designers. However, it is the first thought of Kwarume-Tau when he needs somewhere to park living purchases.

The ship’s white complement always tub in the evenings. The cook cursed when certain residents travelled. He knew the bath times of everyone.

This trip there were three passengers.

The magistrate and the missionary were dirty enough to demand a splash every morning.

The cook decided that the other, Bill Golightly, the heaviest and jolliest man of the Islands, would never attempt to climb into such a tank.

The crab was bought, with a bit of tobacco, after dinner, and the bath ensured its safety and health for the night.

It was the work of but a few morning moments to transfer it to the bread-tin, while two passengers performed their ablutions. Then the crab was hurriedly replaced in the bath as the dough rose, and the tin was needed for baking.

Soon afterwards, 22-stone-weight of passenger passed the galley. The cook thought that he was merely hiking, and continued to cook.

However, Mr. Golightly entered the bathroom, bolted the door, turned on the hot and cold water, and began to sing.

There was scarcely space to strip, but at last he was bare and balancing over the top. Suddenly he descended, dropping the soap. Simultaneously a yell echoed through the ship. Then Golightly slid on the soap and his feet appeared over the stern end of the tank. A large crab was attached to a big toe.

A sharper cry rose as hot water poured down one leg. A convulsive kick separated the crab from its claw, which remained attached to the squirming toe; and the crab with its other claw extended

like a glad hand, raced down upon Golightly’s defenceless body. It was received so warmly that the language attracted the brown steward, who was a keen student of English.

While the steward was assuring the passengers that there were devils in the bathroom, Golightly, with a strenuous struggle, pulled out the bath-plug with one hand and got an armlock on the crab with the other. It was a smart rescue from drowning and biting.

The bather then renewed his efforts to clamber out. But his body would not bend, and he lay back to conserve sufficient breath to answer the agitated queries from outside.

The engineer now was peering through the sealed porthole, and all hands were hurrying up. They listened excitedly to a running commentary on the scene from the deeply interested engineer; but reception was interfered with badly by the continuous speech of Golightly.

It drowned even the captain’s anxious enquiries from the bridge rail; so he, too, came down. There had never before been a queue at the bathroom. Several were trying to force in the door.

Suggestions were plentiful, but the engineer rushed away, to reappear with numerous tools. Soon he had taken out the port and was manipulating a long bar to turn off the tap.

He was successful but, from sulphurous announcements by Golightly, we gathered that it was cold water which had been stopped. With fine judgment the chief twisted shut the hot tap and, in response to pleadings from the bather, started the cold flowing again.

Then he launched the long iron, with the brainy idea of spanning the top of the bath, and so giving Golightly a bar to rise on. Unfortunately it missed the starboard base and rested suddenly on the victim’s ribs. The missionary retreated rapidly. The engineer then tried to push back the door-bolt with another bar, but a stanchion prevented contact.

Golightly, however, was not idle. He was still hanging on grimly to the crab; but with one foot he managed, at the third attempt, to get the iron rod across the bath. But even this did not help him.

He was no expert on the horizontal bar.

and, also, he was reluctant to part with the crab. Many kicks and scrapings had failed to dislodge the claw from his toe, which looked rather red.

The captain now took a hand by throwing a rope through the port. By a strange circumstance the crab gripped it with its remaining claw and, at the earnest request of Golightly, was drawn outside. It fell on deck and scuttled behind a bollard.

The rope, then, was thrown back to Golightly, with instructions that he hold on and be pulled up.

All hands grabbed the outside length and began to haul. The strain was surprisingly great owing, partly, to the rough edge of the porthole. In perfect unison the pullers bent back twice. Then the rope cut through, tumbling the rescue party in a heap against the bulwarks.

Exclamations of annoyance came from both sides of the bathroom.

This catastrophe took attention from the one inside for several minutes, and while the bruised crowd was reassembling, the bathroom door opened.

A red face and body, partly girded with a towel, appeared.

“Anybody hurt?” Golightly asked, solicitously.

“Help! How did you get out?” exclaimed the captain.

“Oh,” said Golightly, “when you made such a mess of the job I just put the plug back and floated up with the tide.

Where’s that crab?”

“I think you have all there is of it,” said the missionary, looking at Golightly’s toe.

“O yes, my foot!” groaned Golightly, placing that member with the claw at tacnment on the door ledge, and trying to bend down. But it was, obviously, impossible for him to reach his toes.

The cook rushed forward, dexterously disengaged the claw, and was turning away with it.

Golightly stretched his arm and seized the thing. "Thanks,” he said, “but that is mine!”

“No fear!” expostulated Kwarume- Tau. “That hand-belong-crab belong me.

I pay lot of tobacco for all that crab.

I ask him magistrate, this claw mine or not?”

"I never give decisions out of court,” said the R.M., smiling. “Anyway, that point would take a wiser mind than mine to decide.”

Golightly laughed, and tossed the claw into the scuppers. A dark shape scuttled from behind a bollard, grabbed the claw with its other one, then dived sideways through a hawse-hole into the sea.

“Well, that’s a darned wise decision, anyway,” said the super-cargo.