The air was surcharged with electricity until eight bells, for in that mysterious manner before alluded to all hands knew that stirring events were about to transpire. C. B. was very uneasy, for even without the captain’s words he would have felt that he was in some measure responsible for the trouble, though in no way to blame. The only man who seemed perfectly unconcerned was Merritt, who just before eight bells slipped below and presently returned clad only in a canvas jumper, pants and boots. He wore a belt and no cap. The other officers all whispered one to another anxiously, the mate looking specially concerned, for, of course, he knew that it was his harponeer who had done this thing.
Eight bells! and in the orthodox fashion the watch below immediately appeared on deck. “Lay aft all hands!” thundered the skipper, and swiftly the whole crew appeared on the quarter-deck, foremast hands forward, harponeers to starboard and officers to port. “Stand out here, Pepe,” said the skipper, and Pepe stepped forward looking a greenish grey. “Mr. Merritt reports to me that he found you in his boat in the middle watch, and looking to see what you were doing, found that you’d cut his line. What have you got to say?”
He might have had something to say, but he could not say it, he was fascinated at the sight of Merritt, who had glided nearer to him. After waiting a full minute the skipper went on. “You’ve got nothing to say, now come here.” Pepe came close up to the skipper, who flung his hands round the harponeer’s waist and plucked from inside his shirt a long keen knife, which he threw aft. “Now stand back, harponeers,” the skipper cried; “Mr. Merritt is going to teach Pepe a lesson man fashion.” The ring widened instantly, and like a leopard Merritt sprang at the harponeer. For a few moments so rapid and furious were the movements of the two men that it was impossible to tell which of them was the better, and all eyes were strained upon them, lips parted and breath came short.
Then it was seen that Merritt had got the big Portuguese completely at his mercy, holding him with one arm round his neck in a bear-like grip. And with the disengaged hand Merritt beat him as if he were a refractory child, beating him to bruise and hurt as much as possible without disabling; and oh the humiliation of it! In that hour men saw how tremendous was the strength that none had suspected Merritt of before. At last the beaten man lost all sense of manhood and begged for mercy, the big tears rolling down his dark cheeks. Immediately the captain stepped forward and held up his hand, saying, “That will do, Merritt.” And the fourth mate sprang to his feet.
Pepe staggered up and would have crawled away, but the captain caught him by the arm. “Wait!” he cried. “Now, men, Pepe has been punished for shamefully cutting a line in order to make the new harponeer lose a whale. If any more of this kind of thing is done and I find the man out, I’ll tie him up and flog the flesh off his ribs. That’ll do. Carry on with the work. Go below the watch.” And immediately the tide of ship life flowed back into its usual channel, the wretched Pepe slinking about like a beaten dog.
CHAPTER IX The Great Catch
So sudden, dramatic and complete had been the justice dealt out to Pepe that it made quite an imperceptible ripple in the steady current of the ship’s routine. In the mind of the beaten man there was, of course, a deep and deadly hatred for his chastiser as well as for C. B., and schemes of revenge chased one another through his brain continually. But he came of a race that understands and appreciates a good thrashing and has no respect for gentle humanitarian methods, and so Pepe’s respect for Mr. Merritt’s prowess was very real and sincere. Also his compatriots in the half-deck were perceptibly less sympathetic than they had been. In fact, they were quite ready to throw him over and openly condemn him for doing that which any one of them would have done given a favourable opportunity.
In only one thing did they now agree with him, and that was in their hatred of C. B. It is a melancholy fact that in an assemblage of bad men anything will be condoned but goodness, and the perfectly blameless life led by C. B. was a constant offence to men whose only virtues were high courage in the performance of their dangerous duties, and endurance in the most tremendous labours that can be imagined when the circumstances called for them. But C. B. was now far happier than he had been since he first came on board. He had almost unconsciously been craving for some human sympathy and fellowship, and now he was in a fair way to get both. He felt himself drawn to his saturnine chief in a most intimate and affectionate way, while he could not but respect and admire him for his effectual punishment of the dastardly offence committed by Pepe. For C. B. had nothing in common with those curious Christians among us whose sympathies are entirely with the criminal and never with the victim, who shudder at pain being inflicted upon the guilty but are quite callous to the agonies of the innocent. To his simple ideas these folk would have seemed to be madmen.