This sudden complaisance on the part of the boatswain put a very different complexion upon the whole affair, and was infinitely better than I had dared to hope. With the entire crew at my back I ought to have no difficulty in keeping Wilde and his lot in their proper places; and—well, the sea has many surprises for those who follow it, and who could know what might happen? But it was no part of my policy to betray to this man the extreme satisfaction which his words had given me, and thus, perhaps, subtly suggest to him the idea that he had displayed more flexibility than was actually necessary to secure my co-operation. I therefore said:
“Well, whichever way the affair goes, I am at least glad to hear you say that the ship’s crew are willing to agree to any reasonable proposition that I may make; but that still remains to be seen. You and I may differ in our ideas as to what is reasonable, you know.”
“Ay, of course we may; but I don’t think it’s at all likely as we shall, sir,” answered the boatswain. “You state your conditions, Mr Troubridge, and I’ll soon tell ye whether they seems reasonable or not.”
“Very well,” said I, “I will. If I understand the ins and outs of this affair, Wilde has persuaded all hands aboard this ship, seamen and emigrants alike, to seek out some suitable island, whereon you can try the experiment of living the ideal life of the Socialist. You are, one and all, absolutely determined to give this fantastic experiment a trial; and you desire me to help you to the extent of finding the island for you. Is that it?”
“That’s it, sir; yes, that’s it; you’ve got it hit off to a happigraphy,” agreed the boatswain.
“Then listen to the conditions upon which I am willing to do what you require of me,” said I. “The sort of island that you people desire is only to be found—if found at all—in an ocean that is at present comparatively unknown, and is full of dangers in the shape of rocks, shoals, and islands, the position of which is doubtful, as shown by the charts, while there are doubtless many others that have never yet been sighted, and which a ship, bound upon such an errand as ours, is liable to blunder up against at any hour of the day or night. To navigate successfully a ship among such dangers as these it is imperative that there should be one person—and one only—as the supreme head, to whom all the rest shall render the most implicit, unquestioning obedience; and I demand to be that one, with you and the carpenter as first and second mates. I must command the ship, and nobody must presume to interfere with or dictate to me in any way. Secondly, the crew must undertake to observe and maintain strict discipline, both among themselves and also among the emigrants if need be. And, thirdly, I decline—nay, I absolutely refuse—to acknowledge Wilde’s authority. He may be your king, or president, or whatever he chooses to call himself, as soon as your island is found and all hands are ashore; but until then—so far, at least, as I am concerned—he is only a passenger. Now, those are the terms upon which I am willing to undertake the service you require of me; and you may take them or leave them, just as you please.”
“They seems reasonable enough, I won’t deny it,” admitted Polson, “and I dare say as everybody’ll be willin’ enough to agree to ’em, all except Wilde, I mean. I know he won’t like the hidea of not bein’ allowed to hinterfere until we arrives at the hiland. Can’t ye make that there part a trifle easier, Mr Troubridge?”
“No,” said I resolutely, “on no account whatever; on the contrary, that is the proviso upon which I shall insist most strongly. Wilde may be an excellent schoolmaster, for aught I know to the contrary, but he is neither a seaman nor a navigator; and I will never consent to his being allowed to interfere, either directly or indirectly, with matters of which he possesses no knowledge. You cannot have two captains to one ship, you know. If he is to be captain you will have no need of me; but if I am to be captain I will not allow anyone—and least of all a landsman—to interfere with me.”
“Ay, ay, Mr Troubridge, yes, I can see now as you are quite right,” agreed the boatswain. “It wouldn’t never do to have him hinterferin’ and givin’ horders about things he don’t understand. If he was allowed to do it there’s others as would soon want to do the same, and then we should soon all be in a pretty mess. D’ye mind writin’ them conditions of yours down upon a sheet of paper, so as I can read ’em out to all hands, sir? And if they agree to ’em I’ll get ’em to sign the paper and then I’ll hand it back to you.”
“Very well,” said I; “that arrangement will do excellently. And, see here, Polson, if all you seamen are willing to sign, I don’t care a brass button whether the emigrants do or not. If you men for’ard are all agreed that those conditions of mine are just and reasonable, we need not trouble ourselves as to what the emigrants think of them, because, you know, they can’t take the ship from us, however dissatisfied they may be.”