He takes a bearing and pops below. A moment later—"Steer 72 degrees, Mr. Senex."
"Seventy-two degrees it is, sir," and course altered accordingly.
Sometime in the wee small hours beyond twelve I am roused out by the sudden stoppage of the ship's steady heart-beat, and find we are off Newcastle, burning a blue light for the pilot, who comes out to us in a few minutes, and we are soon anchored off the Dyke, pending medical inspection later in the morning. On this occasion the fumigation launch, with its cargo of brimstone and crew of attendant imps, left us in peace for the time being. We got it before noon though, as usual good and hearty, and ate our lunch with streaming eyes and rasped throats in, literally, a hell of an atmosphere.
When we went alongside to our usual berth in the afternoon we were informed cheerfully by the stevedore, as we were used to being informed, that we "would be away by Sunday."
"Not I, if I can help it," thinks I to myself. "How to get out of this damn ship without leaving my money behind?"
First I packed up all my gear; got the Customs to examine and pass it; engaged a launch to come alongside at a time when I reckoned the skipper would be up town; had the chests taken right up to the railway station, and consigned to Brisbane forthwith—to be left till called for. Thus I committed myself: I couldn't go to sea without the garbage, and the same was safe and handy if I cleared out. I had made up my mind to do this if there was no other way, for I had just received news that my brother had got his second mate's ticket, and had cheerfully shouldered the responsibility of supporting our mother in England; and I had no other ties. Anyway I thought I would have a good showing with the medical officer of the port, for I had been troubled with migraine and nerve troubles for months—"all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" with a vengeance.
First, however, I put the acid on the skipper.
"Want to be paid off, sir; sorry, but really I can't stand this life any more."
"You? What? How the Sheol am I to get another man in your place?" he answered. "Why! Even if I could get a man mad or drunk enough to go on this run, I'd have to give him £12 a month, and what do you think the owners would say at my paying off a £10 man to engage another at £12? No fear, Senex, here you stay, old chap, and don't make any mistake about it."
"Thanks, sir. But look, er—you'd better look out for another man, sir, all the same."