Oh yes, very pretty trouble was brewing all round, as the skipper said, and not the less troublesome because the storm centre was perfectly innocuous. Fortunately for himself he had early come to the conclusion that to worry about what he knew to be the prevalent feeling concerning him in the half deck, as the petty officers den was termed, would be wrong. Again and again in the midst of his work, when tempted to long for the kindly hearty fellowship he had enjoyed all his previous life, he was cheered by the thought of the lonely One and uplifted by the sense that he was privileged to be a fellow in those dark places of the perfect Man. And went on, if not cheerfully, at least contentedly, finding in his work a great solace.
The intricate and disagreeable work of boiling down the oil and stowing it away proceeded apace until all was washed away and the ship resumed her spotless appearance. Then day succeeded day in the peaceful passage across that placid mighty ocean, when there was nothing but ordinary ship’s routine to be carried on, and very often C. B. felt sorely the need of something to occupy his mind. True he could meditate and did upon the home he had left, and the strange happenings he had witnessed here; but he did long with an ache at his heart for the sweet communion with his fellow-men that he had so long enjoyed and had thought so little of. He had never imagined a little world like this with nobody to talk to who had a single thought in common with him.
But this enforced solitude in the midst of his fellows was all unconsciously on his part deepening and widening his character. In throwing him upon his own resources, the fellowship with the unseen realities of true life made him, without his being in any sense akin to the useless self-centred recluse in his narrow cell wholly intent upon the salvation of his own petty soul, realize in a very special sense the perfect beauty of spiritual communion as he had never done before. Also, because he was debarred from reading anything except his Bible, there being no other literature available, turn all his physical and mental powers during his hours of work to becoming perfect in his new calling.
And then he suddenly made a discovery which pleased him immensely, made his heart leap for joy. It was that his queer boat-header, Mr. Merritt, had conceived a great liking for him. He was struggling one afternoon with the intricacies of a piece of sailor work, endeavouring to strop a block with three-inch rope, and having made a mess of it, he looked up despairingly to find the inscrutable yellow face of Merritt looking down upon him with a twinkle in the oblique eyes.
“Got kind o’ snarled up, I see,” said the fourth mate. “Comes a-tryin’ to do sailor work ’thout bein’ properly showed how. Here, lemme show ye.” And sitting down by his side Merritt explained patiently and clearly every detail of the work, nor desisted, never losing patience, until C. B. had fairly mastered it.
“Now anything else in that way you hanker after knowin’ you come to me an’ I’ll show ye, see. But don’t go askin’ anybody else, ’cause when I take a job on like this I like it all to myself. I’m a jealous man I am, and I’ve took a strong shine to ye, an’ as long as you stick t’me I’ll show ye what my idea of bein’ a chum is.” Then settling down comfortably by C. B.’s side he lit his pipe and went on, “Guess you’ve often wondered what sort of a queer fellow I was, didn’t ye? Now don’t say ye didn’t, kase ye couldn’t help it. Everybody does, an’ I don’t blame ’em as long as they don’t throw it up to me; if they do, well, I’m a pretty poisonous handful when I get a-goin’. But we won’t talk about that. I’m talkin’ to you now as I ain’t talked to any man since I lost my only chum, ten years ago. Some day I’ll tell you all about him, but not now. Now I want t’say that I’ve been a-watchin’ this crowd pretty cluse, an’ there’s two or three of ’em a-lookin’ for a chance to spoil ye fer keeps. An’ I’ve a-made up my mind that I ain’t goin’ t’let ’em do it. I want ye, fer I believe yer a no end good man any way yer took, an’ if ye are misshnary it’s the right kind. Put it thar,” and he held out his yellow sinewy hand, which C. B. took warmly, and was amazed at the force of the grip he received.
Now this colloquy had certainly not passed unnoticed by the harponeers, and something like dismay ran through the camp. For Merritt, although they had been shipmates with him for eighteen months, was an enigma to them, a riddle they had never thought it worth while trying to solve. They knew him for a splendid whaleman and a thorough seaman, who scarcely ever spoke except when it was absolutely necessary for the purposes of the business. His colour and the strange mixture of races obvious in his face made no difference in a community where a man is judged only by his deeds and not in the least by his origin. And now this mysterious mate had taken up their pet aversion, and who knew what such a combination might produce?
The first result of the association, however, was a decided easing off in the villainous remarks made purposely in C. B.’s hearing whenever he went below, and a certain indefinite shade of respect being shown him. He noticed the change, wondered mildly at it, and then dismissing it from his mind, went quietly on his way as before, until one evening the skipper, coming up to him as he stood gazing over the rail at the placid bosom of the ocean, said in a cheery voice—
“Well, Mr. Christmas, you seem to be getting along a little better with ye’re berth-mates now, an’ I’m right down glad to see it. But what ye ben doin’ t’bring it about? I thought nothin’ ’d do it but a big row and mebbe a fight in which I was prepared to back ye up. An’ I’m ever so pleased to see that ther don’t seem to be any prospect of the kind now. Tell me what ye done to ’em?”
C. B. turned on him one of his beautiful smiles and replied—