“Just a little private warning about leaving the ship without permission, I guess. He’s already reprimanded me for it.” Danenhower laughed. “My fault, of course. I should have known better.”
“Well, I shouldn’t,” snapped out Collins, and disappeared through the door in the poop bulkhead, leaving Danenhower looking after him, amazed at the heat of his reply.
Sunday dinner was a quiet meal in spite of the fact that in the cabin for our main dish we had an unusual treat—roast seal—the one that Alexey had shot on our trip to Herald Island, and which we had dragged back on our sledge. The seal meat was excellent, something like rabbit, I thought, and a very welcome change from salted beef and pork, but nevertheless, except for Danenhower chaffing Newcomb, there was little conversation. I was tired from the journey to Herald Island, so also I knew was Chipp, but the wet blanket on the conversation was evidently Collins, who mum as a clam sat through the meal without a word to anyone, and as soon as he had cleaned his plate, departed suddenly without a “By your leave” to anyone.
De Long, a little perplexed at Collins’ quick departure, hastily drew a paper from his pocket, and broke the silence.
“Gentlemen, before anyone else leaves, here is an order I’ve issued to prevent a repetition of what happened this morning. Each of you please read and initial it.”
The order passed rapidly round the table. It was brief enough, requiring each officer and man to get the captain’s permission before leaving the ship, and requiring him to report both his going and returning to the officer of the deck. When all had noted and initialed it, the captain called to Tong Sing,
“Charley, show this immediately to Mr. Collins, and tell him to initial it.”
Tong Sing took the order, padded placidly out of the cabin in search of our departed messmate.
A little later, I went on deck myself. There outboard of the foremast, leaning on the port rail, morosely watching the pack of dogs on the ice snarling and fighting over the scraps of seal which Ah Sam had flung them, was Collins. From his flushed face and his agitated manner it was evident our meteorologist was much upset. While Collins’ puns had always much annoyed me, and my casual jokes had no doubt irritated him, still we were friends and on my appearance from the poop, he beckoned me to join him, which I did.
“I’m trapped, chief!” he burst out heavily. “Back in the States, my brother warned me I shouldn’t have shipped on this cruise as a seaman, but like a fool, I didn’t believe him then! Now it’s happened, and I’m trapped!”