“Shall this go in?” said I, pointing to the coil of whale-line, and addressing the mate.
“No, no; we must leave that,” replied one of the men in the boat; “we shall be wedged enough as it is; and I say, Jim, throw that old saw and the bag of nails out of the boat—we can have no use for them.”
The masts were then stepped, and the rigging set up to the gunnel of the boat, the yards and sails handed in, and hooked on the halyards ready for hoisting. In fact the boat was now all ready for starting; they had only the iron kettle and two or three other articles to put in.
“Shall we have the mizen?” inquired one of the men, pointing to the mast, which lay on the rocks.
“No, she steers quite as well without it,” replied the mate. “We’ll leave it. And now, lad; hand the oars in.”
They were brought to the boat, but owing to the puncheon of rum in the centre, they could not lie flat, and after a good deal of arguing and disputing, four oars and a boat-hook were lashed to the gunnel outside, and the rest were left on the rocks.
At this time there was some consultation between the mate and some of the men—the mate being evidently opposed by the others. I could not hear what it was about, but the mate appeared very angry and very much annoyed. At last he dashed his hat down on the rocks in a great passion, saying:
“No good will come of it. Mark my words. No good ever did or ever will. Be it so, you are too many for me; but I tell you again, no good will come of it.”
The mate then sat down on the rocks by himself, and put his head down on his knees, covering it with his hands.
The man with whom he had been disputing went to the others in the boat, and spoke to them in a low tone, looking round at me, to ascertain if I was within hearing.