But Frank, for some reason that he was entirely unable to define, found himself for the first time during the voyage in almost boisterously high spirits, nor, although he found the captain’s eye fixed upon him every now and then in sourest disapproval, did he feel at all inclined to curb them. He flew about his duties as if full of the joy of life, wondering why he felt so happy, and when the anchor rattled down at Garden Reach, he actually felt as if all his troubles were over.
When the decks were cleared up and the cry of “Supper” was raised, he went into his berth to find Mr. Wilson sitting in an attitude of deepest dejection, looking like a thoroughly beaten man from whom all hope had fled. Frank, somewhat alarmed, went up to him and inquired in the heartiest manner after his health, thinking he must be ill.
The young man, however, merely said, “No, my body is all right, but that demon of a skipper has broken my heart.”
“Why, what has he been doing now?” eagerly inquired Frank.
“Oh, nothing fresh,” groaned the poor fellow, “only he told me before the pilot and the fellow at the wheel that I wasn’t worth a shilling a month, and that he wouldn’t carry me for ballast, with a few other choice remarks of the same kind. Nothing worse than he has often said before, but coming to an anchor as we were, I felt sure that he intended to sack me here and give me a bad discharge. I’ve a good mind to jump overboard. I was so thundering happy when I heard I’d got this ship, and I’ve got on so splendidly before, that it’s as if an earthquake had come into my life and broken it all up.” And he let his head drop again and groaned aloud.
“Now, look here,” said Frank after a pause, “I don’t know what it is, but something tells me that our troubles are nearly over. I feel like a man who is waiting to be hung and has just heard that he has been pardoned. I don’t know why or how I’ve got this feeling, but I’d like to give it to you, my dear man. But I do know this, that whatever happens to me in after life, I’ll never abuse my position as this hateful beast has done, a perfect enemy of mankind I call him, all the worse because of his wonderful ability. Do cheer up, and remember that if the worst comes to the worst, and we have to go home with him again, we’ve both got good records up till the time we met him, and I don’t believe he’ll dare to malign us to the owner. Curse him,” cried Frank in a sudden fury, “how dare he come into our lives and try and wreck them by means of his diabolical temper. He ought to be shot, and many a far better man has been shot for less, if only half what I’ve heard is true.”
That night, for the first time since they had come together, these two young men were able to sit and talk for a long spell, comparing notes of their experiences and fighting their battles over again, but never a word more was uttered about the bane of both their lives.
When they turned in, Frank felt as if a crisis had arrived in his career, and, as he had done on a momentous occasion before, turned blindly to God and blurted out the desire of his soul. “Deliver me from this evil man,” and with a swift after-thought, “and poor Wilson too.” Then he sank peacefully and almost immediately to sleep.
Morning brought the mooring-boat and the allotted position off Prinsep’s Ghaut. In the excitement of the work of mooring, unlike the process anywhere else in the world, Frank forgot all about his worries and his strangely unwarranted hopes. It was to him one of the most peculiar and, at the same time, interesting pieces of work that he had ever seen, the way in which the slender black men dived to the bed of the turbid river and hooked on ropes to the moorings which lay there; how skilfully they toiled in their huge launches to get the ship’s cables attached to the mooring—chains ahead and astern, and how splendidly the ship rode when moored, unable to move in any direction but up and down.
It was a busy day, and there was no time for reflection until evening, when the steward came and called Mr. Wilson and Frank to supper, telling them that the captain and chief officer would not be there to the meal. It was wonderful how great was their sense of freedom, and when the steward had gone away on some trivial errand, Wilson lifted his cap and cried boisterously, “Good luck to them! may they never come back here any more!”