What could they do with a man like that but love him? Nothing. And surely never was man so loved aboard ship before. When in the long evenings after the first dog-watch the crew lolled about the fore part of the deck smoking, it became quite an institution for Rube to sit (he didn’t smoke) and tell them stories in his own quaint language out of the Bible from memory. He possessed the only one on board, and read it continually in his watch below, giving up to its delights much of the time his great frame needed for sleep. Perhaps the quotation of a sample of his Bible yarns (as the fellows termed them) may be admitted.
‘Way back in the old days, boys, it seems t’ me thet most people hed a mighty rough time of it. In th’ cities, frum what I c’n see, they wuz pow’ful little ’musement fur the wealthy folks ’cept buildin’ uncomfortable palaces, stuffin’ grub down their necks they didn’t feel to want, gettin’ drunk, an’ seein’ a lot of poor people suffer. Funny how a man or woman should _like_ to see _sufferin_’, ain’t it? Even then when these rich folks was havin’ what they persuaded themselves wuz a hot ole time, they wuz always expectin’ some feller’d come along an’ make a big hole in ’em with one o’ them old-fashioned stickers you see in pictures, about a foot long, four inches wide, and razzur sharp on both edges. But they was a lot o’ people hadn’t got no palaces. They was something like sailors ashore--always on th’ move, carryin’ their grub with ’em, an’ only stoppin’ any length o’ time where there was water an’ plenty grass fur th’ live stock. ’Course they managed t’ steal a lot of poor fellers ’at didn’t know enough t’ keep out er the way, and make these slaves do all the work. We’re most of us built like that. Comfort was a word that hadn’t come into use those days; but then neither had indigestion, nerves, corns, or rheumatics. Well, among these people was one a good deal better’n most ov ’em, though, of course, he had his faults, an’ his name was Isaac. Only that. Jest a given name, an’ no more: easy to remember. Now this good man was well off as those days went. He had lots o’ sheep ’n’ goats an’ donkeys an’ camels, an’ a mighty big country to travel about in, an’ let ’em feed wherever they would, with no rent or taxes to pay. He had a wife he was very fond of--only one, which was sing’lar for those times, when th’ best o’ men didn’t seem able to get along without a bunch o’ wives. An’ he had two sons. One of these sons was a fine fellow, free an’ open an’ brave, fond of all manly sports, but one of those chaps such as we say’ll never get on in th’ world. He was his father’s darlin’. The other was a quiet, say-nothin’-t’-nobody sort o’ feller, fond of hangin’ around the tents and looking after the breedin’ o’ the cattle an’ sheep, an’ he was what we call a good business man. But you had to watch him close, or he’d get t’ wind’ard of ye every time. His name was a sort o’ warning to anybody t’ keep their weather eye liftin’ when he was havin’ truck with ’em. It was Jacob, meanin’ a feller that gets into another feller’s place after he’s jockeyed him out of it. An’ he wasn’t partikler who it was he bested, his father or his brother jes’ as soon as anybody else. He was his mother’s favourite.