So that was it.
I swore inwardly. Here was Collins heading for trouble again, and unfortunately for me, here I was dragged into the muddle, evidently by the captain this time, and from the nature of the case, bound to offend our meteorologist if I even opened my mouth. What ailed Collins anyway? I had never seen a man on shipboard with such an unholy penchant for getting himself into difficulties.
Apparently the wrinkling of my bald brow and the way I fingered my beard as the situation hit me, gave Collins an inkling of my feelings, for without giving me a chance to speak, he burst out heatedly,
“You’re absolutely correct, I do object! And regardless of what Melville or anybody else you bring in here may say, I’m going to keep on objecting! I never liked that exercise order you’ve already issued, even though I’m obeying it. I’m a grown man, and I was before ever I saw this ship, and I’ve got sense enough to decide for myself how much exercise I need to keep my health and when I need to take it, without anybody telling me. I don’t need to be ordered out like a schoolboy for supervised play, nor have my steps dogged like a poor man’s cur to see I take it. Nevertheless, I swallowed that. But this is too much! I’ve got some rights and I’ve got some pride! Even if I am down on the shipping articles as a seaman, I’m not a damned guinea pig, to be stripped naked every few weeks for the doctor to experiment on!”
This time I guess my jaw did drop in open-mouthed astonishment. That seaman business again. How it must be rankling in Collins’ soul! I looked from Collins’ overwrought face to De Long’s, flushing a fiery red. Had he been any other skipper I had ever sailed with, I should have seen Collins immediately clapped into the brig for gross insubordination. But of the scholarly De Long’s reactions I was not so certain. Prudently I closed my mouth without uttering a word. There was nothing I could say anyway that wouldn’t make a bad situation worse.
De Long’s blue eyes, a startling contrast to his burning cheeks, blinked queerly through his glasses as he stood there, struggling inwardly to control himself the while regarding Collins.
“The scholar in him’s going to win out over the sailor,” I thought to myself. “There’ll be no arrest.”
And so it proved. For what seemed an oppressive length of time under that strain, the captain, without speaking, glared at Collins and Collins unflinchingly glared back. Finally in an unbelievably mild tone, the captain broke the tension.
“Will you please be seated, chief? I should have asked you before.” I sat down. “And that will do for you, Mr. Collins; you may go now. I see that Mr. Melville and I will get along much more rapidly discussing this subject without your presence.”
Like an animal suddenly uncaged Collins, still glaring, turned his back on us, and broke from the cabin, leaving the door wide open. The captain closed it, then sank into an armchair facing me, nervously chewing the twisted ends of his mustaches. Still breathing heavily from his repressed emotions, he turned to me,