"That's no way to treat men," exclaimed Mart softly. "If I was Birch—"
"Oh, shucks—what's the matter with you?" Bob's eyes blazed excitedly. "That's nothin'—you've got to handle sailors like that. But did you hear what he said to Jerry? Called him 'Shark Smith'—and Jerry heard him make threats and said nothing!"
"It's funny discipline," admitted Mart slowly. "But a quartermaster ain't an officer, remember. And I don't blame Birch for being mad."
So the incident passed, for indeed it was a mere incident in the sea-routine. Officers are quick to exact instant obedience, and the least show of rebellion or "back talk" is answered with a blow. But even so, the evil face of the one-eyed seaman flitted through Mart's dreams for many a night thereafter, although Birch seemed doubly respectful toward the second mate, as indeed did all the crew.
CHAPTER VII
"WHERE'S PETERS?"
The Seamew had passed through Balabac Strait and was standing out into the reef-strewn South China Sea, on the last leg of her course, when it happened.
That afternoon the diving suits and pumps had been broken out and put in order, after which the grinning Kanakas and Jerry Smith had given Mart and Bob some practical lessons in dressing up in the cumbersome water-tight outfit, and in working the pumps. In the evening they had sat up late with Captain Hollinger, talking rifles and ammunition, and they were weary enough to sleep soundly.
Mart's porthole was open that night, as usual. He woke up suddenly to find the setting moon streaming in across his face, and got up to hang a towel across the open port, in order not to exclude the fresh air. As he did so, he heard the ship's bell forward strike eight bells, and knew that it was midnight.