“I will not have my night order damned,” said Reud. “You and the officer of the watch must share the responsibility between you.”
“No offence at all, sir, to you or the night orders either. I am heartily sorry I damned them—heartily; but, in the matter of wearing this here ship precisely at that there time, I only acted under the pilot, who has charge until we are securely anchored. Surelye, I can’t be ’sponsible.”
“Well,” said the pilot, “here’s a knot of tangled rope-yarn—but that yarn won’t do for old Weatherbrace, for, d’ye see, I’m a Sea William (civilian), and not in no ways under martial law—and I’m only aboard this here craft as respects shoals and that like—I’m clearly not ’sponsible!—nothing to do in the ’varsal world with working her—’sponsible pooh!—why did ye not keep a better look-out for’ard?”
“Why, Mr Rattlin, why?” said the captain, the first-lieutenant, the lieutenant of the watch, and the master.
“I kept as good a one as I could—the lanterns were over the bows.”
“You may depend upon it,” said the captain, “that the matter will not be permitted to rest as it is. The owners and underwriters will demand a court of inquiry. Mr Rattlin had charge of the forecastle at the time. Mr Rattlin, come here, sir. You sang out, just before this calamity happened, to port the helm.”
“I did, sir.”
“Quarter-master,” continued Reud, “did you port the helm? Now, mind what you say; did you, sir? because if you did not; six dozen.”
“We did, sir—hard a-port.”
“And the ship immediately after struck?”