The men stood grouped around on the deck, the pumps had been left, and the brig was rolling so heavily on the swell that it was time to leave her.
“Well, well! be it as you wish. Here, Anderson, and you, Forrest, come here;” and the seaman gave his directions.
The two sailors hesitated. They joined their comrades. A low whispered conversation ensued. He who had been called Forrest stepped forward, and scratching off his tarpaulin, twisted it in his hands.
“Well, what is it, Forrest?” asked the captain.
“Please your honour, if so be as I may make bold, we’ve had a run of ill luck of late.”
“I know that, none better; but what has that got to do with you?”
“The gentleman has lost the number of his mess, d’ye see, and it’s an onlucky thing to begin a new voyage with a corpse aboard.”
“Ay, ay, Captain Weber,” chimed in the rest, “we dare not set sail on yonder sticks with never a keel beneath our feet, and only a rag of canvas for sail, and that, too, with a corpse aboard.”
The group of men were standing at the gangway, and the captain turned to them, speaking in a loud voice.
“Your duty, Forrest, is to obey my orders. The ship is sinking under our feet, but while a stick of her remains floating they shall be obeyed. Do your duty.”