“Tush, tush, son. Don’t ever try to hurry ’em. Let her take all the time she wants. Women are funny that way.”

“Cap’n,” said the minister in tense earnestness, “there is something vitally wrong in this town, and I can’t seem to find out what it is.”

“I know,” nodded the Captain.

“Then I wish you would enlighten me.”

“I cal’late I can’t do that, Mack. All I can see is that there’s something like mutiny brewing aboard your salvation sloop, and mutiny is a mighty funny thing. You can’t put your finger on it and say, ‘Lo, here, or lo, 79 there,’ according to scripture. Ain’t that right?”

“You have certainly stated the situation much better than I could hope to.”

“I was only hoping you wouldn’t see it.”

“I don’t see it, and that’s my whole trouble. I can only see the results. I can’t say that this one or that one is to blame, for the thing seems to be in the very air.”

“I know just how you feel, Mack. That’s where a skipper is hog-tied against taking any action. You just sort of feel that there’s something devilish afoot, but you don’t know enough what it is to be ready to meet it. Puts me in mind of a song I heard once aboard one of my ships. One of the new mates sang it, and called it the microbe song. I ain’t got any idea where he picked it up, but it went like this:

“‘Johnnie, don’t you see ’em on my head and chin,
All them powerful microbes, both outside and in?
Johnnie, up and smite ’em, counting every one,
With the strength that cometh with the pork and bun.
“‘Johnnie, don’t you feel ’em, how they work within,
Striving, crowding, pulling, kicking just like sin? 80
Johnnie, don’t you tremble, never be downcast,
Gird ye for the battle, we’ll kill ’em while it lasts.
“‘Johnnie, don’t you hear ’em, how they speak ye fair:
“All of us are shipmates, not a bunk is bare!”
Johnnie, answer boldly: “While we breathe we smite!”
And peace shall follow battle, day shall end in night.’”