Shaking his fist in the boy's face, he burst forth:
"Yew little skunk, I'll half kill yew one o' these days, loafin' an' sodgerin' around! Git out quick, or I'm liable to let fly an' jump your ribs in."
Then, as Jim moved hurriedly away, he roared,
"Wait, doggone ye! Who told yew ter go, yew Whitechapel mudlark? Jump up, overhaul an' stop them main-tops'l buntlines, an' turn to at one bell on the poop brasswork. I'll teach yew, yew Bowery refuse, thar ain't goin' ter be no skulkin' while Davis is mate o' this packet. Away with ye!"
On coming on deck at eight bells the starboard watch were all sent aloft, each man with a bundle of rovings and rope-yarns.
Now that the Higgins was getting near the stormy cape, all preparations had to be made for the tempestuous weather which is always encountered whilst turning the last corner of the world, as rounding the Horn is sometimes called.
For great "Cape Stiff" never disappoints one. He keeps an unlimited supply of bad weather about him, dealing out his great sixty-foot greybeards, his terrific hail-squalls, and his furious southern blasts with no niggard hand.
To withstand the boisterous southern wind, the sails had to be lashed as securely as possible to the jackstays, which run along the top of the yards. This the watch were sent aloft to do.
As the Higgins tore along before the gradually slacking westerlies, a swarm of Cape pigeons, molly-mawks, and Cape black hens swooped about her stern, whilst three or four majestic albatrosses sailed in their stately manner in the wake of the clipper, occasionally with a graceful sweep stooping to pick some tit-bit off the water.
Presently a sail was sighted right ahead, and the Higgins overhauled her hand over hand.