(Captains whom I sailed with usually disregarded any and all sense of order, preferring not to interfere with the laws of gravity, particularly when chewing tobacco. But if these same white shirts happened to leave the hand of the sailor who washed them with any remnant of stain, His Majesty could be heard swearing all over the ship.)
For the past three days everything has been going beautifully, with the wind free and fair. We are clipping it off at ten knots an hour.
Tonight I noticed that the man at the wheel acted rather queerly, and was not steering at all well. The men looked continually from left to right, acting as if they feared that some one was going to strike them.
It was during the middle watch that I heard a conversation in the forecastle between Riley, Old Charlie and Broken-Nosed Pete. Charlie was trying to convince Pete by saying:
"You may not understand, but it is true, none the less. Look at me in the 'Mud Puddler.'"
The suspense of this argument was evidently getting on Riley's nerves. He interrupted with, "Damn it all, man, I tell you he is back on the ship. Haven't we all heard him prancing around in his room? Upon my sowl, I have felt him looking into the compass. Oh, be Hivins, me good man, you will see him soon enough."
Here Old Charlie once more took the floor. "Riley," said he, "I believe that he has come back to warn us of some danger."
"Divil a bit av danger we will be having." This with bravado.
"You know he may have come back to find his knife. You remember when you sewed him up you found it in his bed."
"Ah, go wan, you durty ape, didn't I throw it overboard with him?"