The “Nibblers” received their name from Mr. Keon, second officer of the steamship Spitfire of the Great American Fruit Company’s line running to the tropics for bananas. The family, commonly speaking, were simply ship’s rats, but Mr. Keon was of a romantic and discerning turn of mind, and after making their acquaintance he christened them comprehensively.

To Mr. Keon they were much more than ordinary rats. He knew the whole family intimately from old Mrs. Nibbler, the mother, down to little Tiny, the smallest and most timid youngster of the lot, and to be known by the second officer was a privilege not granted to all who came aboard the fruit ship. He was a man who possessed an enormous fund of material from which he could draw without effort for sea stories, and, according to many authorities, consequently possessed a large amount of “gray matter” in his head. Whether this came outside in the form of hair, or remained inside in the form of brains, it is not necessary to inquire. He told the story of “The Nibblers,” sitting one night on the edge of the forward hatch with the full tropic moon behind him and the soft wind of the Florida Stream blowing the smoke from his pipe away to leeward, and enough of it was remembered to get his name down as that of a very remarkable man.

“Ye see,” said he, after we had been watching the antics of a huge rat who was scampering around the edge of the hatchway, “that feller has got as much sense as you have. It’s ole Toby, one o’ the old fellers what’s been aboard this vessel since she carried her first cargo. He’s a most uncommon old rat, an’ that’s a fact. He’s as happy an ole raskil as ever haunted a ship’s bilge, an’ he aint afeared o’ much. I seen him chase a cat clean into the galley door onct, and he would ha’ got her but fer the fool ‘doctor’ heavin’ a pan at him. See how quick he kin jump. Just look at them whiskers, hey?

“I remember when I first seen him, away back in the eighties, when Captain Jackson took command. He ware a young feller then an’ the captain’s wife used to come o’ evenings an’ sit on the bridge jest over this forrad hatch. She ware a fine-lookin’ gal, an’ that’s a fact, a heap finer-lookin’ than the ole man. He warn’t nothin’ much fer looks anyway, a little chap with a squint an’ grizzled whiskers fer all the world like ole Toby’s there, but he ware a terrier fer handlin’ canvas in the ole days. I seen him onct—but no matter, that aint got nothin’ to do with what I’m goin’ to tell ye.

“Ye see, the gal was mighty pretty. I don’t know as I ever seen a woman as good-lookin’. She had golden hair, an’ eyes as soft an’ blue——”

“Go on with the yarn,” interrupted the bos’n; “we’ll let the girl go.” Keon smoked on in silence after this as though he had taken offense, but we soon saw by the look of his eyes that he was far away from that fore hatch.

“The second mate used to sit right here,” he went on at last, “an’ she would look over the bridge rail on fine evenings an’ watch the Nibblers goin’ an’ comin’ around this hole. Rats is like all other animals, includin’ humans, in respects to selections, an’ the way these fellows would fight an’ scrap fer each other was somethin’ funny to see. The biggest an’ strongest rat would knock the other out an’ take up with one o’ the young an’ frivolous females, jest like it occurs in story books. He was the hero, big an’ strong an’ fine-lookin’, an’ o’ course the gal rat would care fer him like females care fer all heroes. He was supposed to have all the fine qualities o’ rat in his make-up, jest like a hero has, an’ the way he would go a-scamperin’ around after some little feller who wasn’t strong enough to stand to him was funny to see. The captain’s wife used to come to the rail an’ look down an’ watch them fer hours, an’ laugh an’ laugh when some fellow like big Toby there would put the rest out the way, an’ the second mate he would sit there close by durin’ the dog-watch, an’ watch, too, but he warn’t always lookin’ at the rats. Then when he had to go on the bridge he had to meet that queer little captain who waren’t no bigger’n a good-sized mouse. He didn’t reach much more’n up to the second mate’s shoulder. Sometimes the young woman looked hard at the two when they were together, an’ the skipper would get nervous, fer he thought a lot o’ her—an’ so did the second mate. The men forrads used to notice a thing or two, an’ they called the skipper ‘Squeak Jackson,’ he was so little an’ small in his voice. But he kept his temper an’ never let on as to what he thought o’ his size, fer he had been a good one.

“Ye see, rats don’t have no consciences. That’s where they differs with humans. Fools don’t have none to speak on, but sometimes there comes a time to most men when they wonders what about the little feller what gets licked. It’s all right in stories o’ love, and no one bothers at the time about the weaklin’ who can’t hold his own, but really when it comes down to hard fact without all the romance o’ women in it, there’s somethin’ sorrowful about the poor feller who can’t hold his way agin the stronger one. He aint done nothin’ wrong in bein’ weak, an’ he was born that way, so why blame him fer it? Sometimes it seems as if the world was wrong, always goin’ sides with the fine, handsome hero o’ the affair who can drive off the weaklin’ an’ rescue the female. What about the feller who was born weak an’ small, aint he got no feelin’s? But nobody cares a rap fer him. It’s nature. It shows humans are mostly animals, an’ as fer me I sometimes feel I lost somethin’ by not bein’ born a rat.

“Ye see, the Spitfire was in the banana trade then. Bananas are the devil to carry if they get ripe on you, and get switchin’ around below. I seen the banana slush four feet deep in the lower hold, an’ ye know banana juice is about as acid as anythin’ goin’, an’ it cuts iron into holes an’ pits quicker’n you can tell o’ it. Ye got to be mighty careful cleanin’ a banana ship’s bilge if you don’t want her to get pitted, an’ her bottom like a piece o’ blottin’ paper soft enough to poke yer foot through with a kick. It takes a man who knows how to take care o’ a banana ship to keep her up!

“I don’t know how rats come to be in ships, but they come by the hundreds. Mebbe they come in the fruit, or stores. Anyways, there they be, an’ there’s no way to git rid o’ them.

“Ye see, there has to be a ceiling of wood in an iron ship to keep the fruit off’n the plates, an’ it’s in atween this that the little critters git. They aint no more like a shore rat than you are. They are all sailors, every one o’ them, an’ they stan’ their watches same as you an’ me. You see these fellers running around here now, but there’s a lot more below that won’t come on deck until I go below. Toby there is in my watch, an’ I feed him. Them that aint in my watch won’t come out till the bell strikes, an’ then they peep up, an’ if they see the mate out they come on deck an’ look fer the grub some fellers in his watch fetches up now an’ then.

“But what I was tellin’ was this. We took aboard a lot o’ fresh ones down to Montego Bay, an’ among ’em was that old fat female rat ye see there sittin’ on the edge o’ the coamin’. She’s the mother o’ half a hundred now, but when she first come aboard she was a young an’ frisky rat as ever you see. She’d been aboard a week or two afore I noticed her, but on the way south again, one night when we struck into the warm water, I noticed her come on deck with a lot more. It was just such a night as this an’ the little skipper an’ his wife were on the bridge a-lookin’ down at the black hole o’ the fore hatch. Soon the gal made out the rats a-runnin’ an’ jumpin’ around the opening an’ the second mate sat there waitin’ fer the bells to strike afore he went on watch.

“That ole rat was skippin’ away from a whole crowd o’ young rats what was a-followin’ her around, an’ that big Toby there he was gettin’ sort o’ interested. He was a young rat then, ye see, an’ he looked on sort o’ solemn like fer a while an’ let ’em skip around, but I seen that he wasn’t goin’ to stand still long. Suddenly he gave a squeak. Then the frolickin’ stopped sudden like an’ Toby come forrads.

“Well, sir, you may not believe it, but he went straight up to that handsome young female an’ said ‘How d’ye do’ as plain as ye please. I don’t mean to say he spoke, but that was his action, an’ no mistakin’, fer the pair stood nose to nose fer the space o’ half a minute. Then they went off together to another part o’ the deck, an’ ye ought to seen how them other young rats took it. It was comical an’ that’s a fact. He had done the polite to that female rat an’ was gettin’ along handsome’ an’ the gal above was laughin’ at it, while the skipper walked athwartships an’ took no notice.

“Toby hadn’t been more’n two minutes with his fair one when up comes a sassy-lookin’ rat, about as big as a kitten. He was lookin’ fer trouble, that rat, fer he jest walked right up an’ lit into Toby without waitin’ fer further orders. Sink me, if that weren’t a scrap. Ye never would think them little critters would take on so. A pair o’ bulldogs warn’t in it with them rats, an’ the rest all crowded around, comin’ up slowly, an’ lookin’ to see which one would do fer the other.

“Well, sir, the second mate sat still lookin’ on, an’ the gal was lookin’ down from above over the bridge rail. The night was bright enough fer to see things pretty well on deck, an’ the gal’s eyes showed interest. It was the same old story, the choosin’ o’ the hero, only they was rats, an’ there wasn’t no doubt that we wanted the best one to win: him that was the biggest an’ strongest an’ best-lookin’. “It’s been a long time ago now, but ye would think that ole rat would still have the marks o’ that fight on him, an’ mebbe he has. They grabbed at each other with them long teeth, an’ I tell you they made the fur fly fer a few minutes. The sassy big rat made a pass an’ grabbed Toby by the leg, an’ sech a squealin’ ye never heard. But that female rat sat quiet, an’ jest kept lookin’ on, waitin’ fer the finish. Toby saw he was in a bad fix. He was gettin’ the worst o’ the fight, fer that rat had him fast enough by the hind leg. It was up an’ down an’ all over the deck forrads, the old fellow squealin’ an’ bitin’, an’ that sassy-lookin’ rat jest holdin’ on fer further orders. It looked blue fer Toby an’ he seen somethin’ must be done sudden if he wanted that fine female rat fer a side pardner down in the bilge. He stopped his squealin’ an’ was quiet fer a minute, thinkin’ an’ tryin’ to plan out some kind o’ game fer to git away an’ get his grip on that sassy rat that was slowly sawin’ his leg off. All to onct he give a jerk. Then he bent his body double an’ rolled on his back like a ball. That brought his enemy up alongside him an’ the next minute he was fast to him amidships, gettin’ a good grip o’ the feller’s belly.

“I tell you he must have pinched right hard. That sassy-lookin’ rat couldn’t stand the bite, an’ let go the leg grip he had, squealin’ an’ twistin’ to get away. But no sirree. Old Toby had him fer sure this time, an’ he jest settled right down to business, shakin’ an’ pullin’, fer there aint nothin’ a rat kin stand less than a good shakin’. Pretty soon the feller began to give up an’ try to get away, squealin’ a different sort o’ squeal from the sassy squeal he began with.

“Then Toby goes fer him harder than ever, but jest as he was tryin’ to get a new hold, the fellow up an’ bolts fer the open hatchway, an’ the fight was over. Then all hands scrambled below, an’ Toby walks right up to the fine female rat what was waitin’ fer him an’ they goes off together. Then the gal on the bridge laughs right out an’ says ‘Bully boy,’ an’ the second mate looks up an’ sees the look in her eyes, an’—well, I dunno, after that they used to come together somehow until the skipper speaks up one day an’ asks the second mate his business.

“‘Ye seem to have too much to do,’ says he one evenin’ to the second mate, ‘an’ if I was you I’d keep more by meself, or mebbe I’ll take ye in hand a bit.’

“That second mate was thinkin’ o’ them rats, an’ speaks up: ‘You kin try yer hand when we gets in port. I’m an officer here an’ can’t get no show, but on the beach I’ll take yer skin or I’m a soger,’ says he.

“An’ so the captain was too proud to take advantage o’ his position, an’ waits until the vessel was in at Port Antonio. Then he steps ashore an’ tells the second mate to follow him an’ take a lickin’.

“Well, sir, there aint no use tellin’ how that fight come off. It took three hours to put that dinky little skipper temporarily to sleep, an’ the fellers what seen the scrap tells a thing or two about it,—but they was only niggers an’ didn’t count. Anyways, the second mate was as well pounded as a beefsteak, but he was a hero, an’ that’s a fact. He was a pretty good sort o’ man, an’ some says he was fairly good-lookin’. Anyways, he was way ahead in looks o’ that dinky little skipper, an’ the gal, I believe, thought so too. Yessir, it ware the same ole story o’ choosin’ the hero over again, jest like it takes place in story books—only a bit different, fer the gal was already married in this case, an’ sech doin’s never is printed except in papers. But that second mate, he ware the hero jest the same.

“When the Spitfire went to sea again there was a mighty quiet sort o’ skipper aboard, an’ a second mate who was a-lookin’ out fer squalls. There was evidently goin’ to be a change aboard at the end of the passage. But all the time that gal she jest kept to herself, an’ by the look o’ her eyes she ware tellin’ the second mate plainer ’n mud that he ware the man fer her. The dinky little skipper could see it too.

“The night she went to sea the second mate was sittin’ on the edge o’ the hatchway here as usual when it come on eight bells, an’ he seen all that new load o’ rats a-gettin’ ashore fast. It aint no good sign to see rats gettin’ out o’ a ship. They generally leave afore she goes down, an’ when the second mate seen them a-goin’ ashore he was fer followin’ them. Then he thinks o’ that gal again an’ stays, fer you may not believe it, but ole Toby, there, an’ his mate wouldn’t go ashore. They stays on deck at the last minute when the second officer was gettin’ ready to clear an’ when he seen it he says he’d stay too. It sort o’ put him in mind o’ hisself.

“It began to come on to blow the day after we passed Cape Maysi. Ye know how it is in the windward passage, so it didn’t bother us much. But along about dark the glass began to drop sudden like, until it got down about three marks below where it ought to stayed. The air was warm an’ sultry comin’ hot from the s’uthard. The haze what comes with the hurricane was raisin’ plain in sight, an’ the dinky little skipper puts her head to the east’ard to clear the center, fer it ware jest in our wake.

“I seen it blow before, but sink me if ever it blew anywhere’s like that. The sea ware jest a roarin’ hill leapin’ up with a cross heave in it, an’ the air was like a solid wall when it struck. No, sir, ye couldn’t stand on the bridge. It would have picked ye up bodily an’ hove ye overboard. The roar ware deafenin’, an’ we hove her to on the starboard tack to work clear, an’ jest then, by some luck or other, she waded right into the center o’ that whirl where the seas ware jest standin’ right up on end.

“Ye can’t do nothin’ with a ship caught in the center of one o’ them circular storms. It blows in sech squalls that there aint no way a tellin’ which way it’s comin’, only it comes with sech a mighty weight that no ship kin stan’ to it. An’ the sea falls down on ye from anywhere at all till the decks are under tons o’ water, an’ everythin’ gone to the devil stove up.

“The Spitfire ware knocked over in one o’ the rushes o’ hot wind that ripped the funnel out o’ her. Then an almighty sea broke right amidships an’ tore the side o’ the house away an’ flooded the engine room. It ware lookin’ kind o’ bad fer us, an’ when the engineer come on deck half drowned, an’ said the engine ware done fer an’ the water a-comin’ in about two feet at a jump, we made up our minds the ole ship ware done fer, an’ the best thing ware to get clear as soon as we could.

“But no small boat could have lived in that sea a minute. There wasn’t anything to do but wait until the gale wore down, which it did after about three hours of the heaviest blowin’ I ever seen. Then she eased up an’ the ole ship was jest decks out in a sea what would make yer hair white to look at.

“We made a lee o’ the side an’ lowered down the boats before daybreak, that dinky little skipper jest a-standin’ an’ lookin’ on an’ never a-sayin’ a word.

“The first officer he takes the first boat what swings clear, an’ then the gal she looks down at the second mate. He puts her in the next boat an’ they lower it down an’ they scramble to get in, fer the ship is wallowin’ in that nasty sea an’ feels dead. Some fool fumbles the tackle an’ nearly capsized the craft, but the second mate he grabs the line in time to save it an’ she goes clear. The men rush to find places, an’ then the second mate stan’s there alone with that dinky little skipper, who hasn’t spoken or moved from the chart-house door.

“It’s all mighty plain. The fellers from below, white with scare an’ tremblin’ as they grab the ship’s sides. Some pushes the others an’ then they curse and swear to kill each other when there aint enough breath in them to speak out loud.

“‘Be ye a-goin’ in that boat, sir?’ says the second mate to his captain. “‘Go an’ be d——d,’ says the dinky little skipper.

“An’ the second officer jumps in an’ the painter is cast off. Then the little skipper stan’s out an’ watches them slowly go away—watches them drawin’ off further an’ further, an’ his eyes is on the gal in the boat, an’ his hands is folded on his breast. That’s the last they sees o’ him as he stands there with the risin’ sun a-shinin’ on him an’ the blue sea washin’ nigh up to the ole hooker’s deck.

“Fer seven days an’ nights the fellers in that boat has a time with it. Then there comes a ship bound in an’ takes ’em aboard, an’ in a few days they finds themselves in New York, the second mate an’ the gal hardly speakin’.

“When they comes ashore the first man the gal sees is that dinky little skipper a-waitin’ there on the dock, jest as natural an’ chipper as if he wasn’t the ugliest skipper ever in a decent ship. An’ funniest of all she jest naturally goes an’ flings herself at him like a dolphin at a bait, landin’ right in his arms. Fer, ye see, that old hooker Spitfire warn’t so badly used up as the engineer thought, an’ when the sea went down she didn’t make no more water to speak of. The next mornin’ a vessel comes along an’ lends a hand to the dinky little feller aboard, an’ pretty soon the engine is a-goin’ an’ the ole ship is headin’ away on her course with one o’ the company’s ships alongside to see her through. There aint no salvage to pay, an’ all is taut as a gantline.”

Here Mr. Keon stopped and knocked the ashes from his pipe. The great rat he called Toby scampered down the hatchway as the bells struck off, warning us that the first watch was at hand.

“What became of the little captain?” asked the bos’n.

“Oh, that little feller got the finest ship in the company’s fleet. He’s commodore now, ye see,” said the second mate, “an’ we got ‘Peepin’ Shaw’ in his place.” “Did they discharge the officers that deserted?” asked a sailor.

Mr. Keon looked sorrowfully at him and rose from the hatchway. Then he stopped a moment and fumbled his pipe.

“D’ye think second officers sech as me are plentiful abouts, hey?” he asked.

He was a powerfully built man and showed to some advantage in his working clothes of light duck.

“Second mates sech as me aint to be picked up everywhere, ye might know, an’ this ship has never had but one since she was launched,” and he went on the bridge for his watch on deck.