This time he was successful. One by one the poor fellows came up the ladder, all of them, as Guy noticed, wearing the same expression of blank amazement which he had observed on Flint’s face, and, seeming to understand their situation as well as if it had been explained to them, went to work without uttering a word of complaint.
As soon as the deck was washed down the ship was got under way, and, when studding-sails had been set alow and aloft, the men were mustered on deck and divided into watches. This done, the captain stepped before them and said, in a stentorian voice, as if he were hailing the mast-head:
“Now, men, we have shipped together for a long voyage, and whether or not it is to be a pleasant one depends entirely on yourselves. You all claim to be able seamen, and if you do your duty cheerfully and without any grumbling, you will find me the easiest ship-master you ever sailed under; but if there’s any nonsense among you, I’ll make this vessel the hottest place for you this side of——” Here the captain pointed with his finger toward the deck, indicating, no doubt, the regions below. “The rule of this ship is, the forenoon watch below, and all hands on deck in the afternoon; and if that regulation is changed, it will be your fault. Mark you, now: That gentleman, Mr. Evans, is my first mate, and that one there, Mr. Schwartz, is my second mate. I’m the captain; and when you have taken a good look at me, go for’rd. That’s all I have to say to you.”
“Go below, the watch,” commanded the second mate.
Guy, Flint, the gray-headed sailor, and the others belonging to the port watch, lost no time in obeying the order. There were none among them who felt like doing duty. Guy certainly did not, for he was so completely exhausted that it did not seem possible he could live to draw another breath. He threw himself upon his hard bed, drew the blankets over his shoulders, and listened to the conversation of the sailors, who now had leisure to talk over their situation.
To Guy’s great surprise there was not one of them who exhibited the least indignation, or had a harsh word to say against the author of their troubles. Some flung themselves helplessly upon their bunks as if it mattered little to them whether they ever got up again or not, others overhauled their bundles or chests to see if any of their dunnage was missing, and the faces of all wore a look of sadness and dejection that was painful to see. The furtive glances that they cast about the forecastle, and the listening attitudes they assumed whenever any unusual sound was heard, was enough to satisfy Guy that they were all aware that they had been shipped aboard the very vessel they had been most anxious to avoid.
“You needn’t be a looking and a listening now, lads,” said the gray-haired sailor, whose name was Upham, and who had made one voyage in the ship. “The Santa Maria is as quiet as old Davy’s locker in the day-time, but wait until midnight, if the wind freshens a bit, then you’ll hear something.”
“The creaking and groaning of the cordage, most likely,” said Guy. “I’ve heard it often aboard the Ossipee.”
“You’d better take a sheep-shank in that tongue of yours,” said Upham sharply. “When you have sailed the blue water till your hair is as white as mine, you’ll know more than you do now.”
So saying the sailor drew the blankets over him, and with a sigh of resignation turned his face to the bulk-head and prepared to go to sleep. The rest of the watch, one after the other, followed his example, and Guy was left to commune with his own thoughts. He would have been glad to know just how and when the ghosts of the Santa Maria were accustomed to appear, so that he might be on the lookout for them; but Upham did not seem inclined to say more on the subject, and he had shown himself to be such a gruff, irritable old fellow that Guy did not care to ask him any questions, being certain of getting a sharp and unsatisfactory reply. While he was thinking about it he fell into a deep, untroubled slumber.