“Go aloft there, and close up the main-top-gallant.”
The men sprang to the rigging, and a few moments more one of them came down the ratlines and went forward to some work he had left, but the other seemed to find some delay in accomplishing his share of the task. The mate glanced impatiently into the rigging once or twice, then angrily, and then shouted aloft:
“What are you about up there, you landlubber Jake? If I had a dog and he didn’t know more than you do, I’d shoot him.”
The man halfway down by this time, finished his descent and passed the mate without a word, but a dark scowl covered his face. The mate caught sight of it and his fury increased; he seized the man by the collar and pushed him violently toward the wheel.
“There, go and try your hand at that,” he said, “and see if you can keep a decent face before your betters! A miserable fool that never saw three months’ service since he was born, shipping as able seaman, and then grumbling about under his officers’ feet till it’s enough to drive them mad! If the next wave should take you overboard ’twould be the best thing that could happen!”
The sailor recovered his balance and went off to relieve the man at the wheel, but the scowl grew darker, and harder lines gathered about his mouth. Eight bells sounded at last, and the first mate’s watch came tumbling up from their berths, to relieve those on duty. But it was too warm to go below, and after loitering a few moments till the second mate had disappeared to turn in, two or three of the men sauntered forward, the dark scowl among them, and getting noiselessly together in the shadow of the foremast, began to talk in low undertones, that could not reach far aft of their position.
“I tell you, I wont bear it any longer,” said Jake between his teeth. “One or other of us has got to go under, and that before another twenty-four hours is past.”
The man next him gave a low laugh, and then seeing how black the other’s face was, grew sober again.
“Pshaw, Jake, you look as if you were in earnest. I should think you were a landlubber, as the mate says, if you’re going to take notice of anything an officer says to a hand! If he’d shoot his dog for what you did, it’s only a wonder he didn’t knock you overboard. A sailor don’t count for as much as a dog any day.”
“He knows I’ve only had my hand out of the sling for two days, and how was I going to handle the earrings,” muttered Jake; “I tell you I mean what I say. If I can get two or three to stand by me, well and good, and if not I’ll tackle him alone. I’d as lief jump overboard with him, as lead this life any longer.”