Frank found that even a handspike grows heavy after a while, and when he had carried it four long hours, he would have been glad to put it down and rest; but his release did not come until his watch was called at twelve o'clock that night. From noon until midnight he paced the deck without a moment's pause, a bite to eat or a drop to drink. He was tired and sleepy, but was obliged to remain on deck four hours longer, or until the watch to which he belonged was ordered below. It was pretty hard, Frank told himself, and provoking, too, to find somebody ready to make sport of him, as one of the sailors in his watch did when he went forward. It was the "black sheep" of the crew—the same one who pointed out the trapper's supposed hiding-place in the bow-boat. His name was Gardener, but some one had christened him Calamity, and that was what he was generally called. Some of the crew had warned Lucas and Barton to be very careful what they said in this man's presence. He was the captain's pet. He was never punished like the rest, and the reason probably was because he made it his business to keep the officers posted in everything that was said and done in the forecastle.
"Well, Gentleman Black," said Calamity, as Frank approached the windlass around which the watch were gathered, "how do you like the taste you have had of the Tycoon's discipline? You can't come soldiering aboard here with your airs and your graces——"
"Belay that!" cried the coxswain, jumping to his feet. "You're a soldier yourself and a tale-bearer besides, Calamity, and any more such language as that will breed a row that'll have to be settled by you and me the very first time we get ashore. That's a word with a bark on it!"
Calamity, like the coward he was, slunk back out of sight immediately, and in a few minutes got up and walked away.
[CHAPTER IX.]
"THERE SHE BLOWS."
IT soon became evident to all on board the Tycoon that Captain Barclay—that was the name of the master of the ship—was in a great hurry. Whaling captains, while on fishing-grounds, generally try to get over as much space as they can while daylight lasts, and to remain as nearly in one spot as possible during the night. By following this plan they can hunt over every mile of the ground, and lose no chance of finding the game of which they are in search. Captain Barclay, however, carried all the sail he could crowd, both night and day. The old sailors, Lucas and Barton among the rest, knew where he was going, and when Frank heard them express their opinions he had new cause for uneasiness.