There was not the slightest breath of wind, and the ship echoed with the slating and flogging of her sails as she rolled.
A continuous stream of water gushed in through her ports, and poured in a cascade first one way and then the other across the maindeck.
The port watch were on deck, busy "sand and canvassing" the main and fore fife-rails, preparatory to revarnishing.
The fore-hatch had just been chipped, and was resplendent in bright patches of red lead. The fates were rapidly arranging a holocaust for poor puss, for, as if obeying some unseen hand, he suddenly roused and stretched himself where he had been coiled up asleep on the foc's'le head; then, with the slow, graceful movement of his tribe, he descended the ladder and deliberately went up and rubbed himself against the fore-hatch. But alas! the eagle eye of Black Davis was upon him, and the red lead betrayed him, for it had left its marks upon his brindled coat; too late he tried to lick it off.
"Terantulars, yew dirty sneakin' beast. Rub my paint off, would yew?" roared the mate.
With remarkable swiftness he clutched poor puss in his iron fist, and a second later the cat was adrift on the swell and hidden from sight.
With a scream of fury and distress, the kid, who had been at work on the fore fife-rail, flung himself upon the bully, biting, kicking, and scratching.
Broken words burst from his mouth in a torrent, and, Jack's lecture forgotten, he raved and swore as only a boy bred to the sea can swear, raining a very shower of blows with his little fists upon the big mate.
Catching him by the scruff of his neck, Black Davis flung him aside.
The poor boy was hurled across the deck, to be brought up by the iron combing of the hatch, which caught him upon the left brow as he fell.