"You'll have enough of him in time, I doubt not. He has already caused much ill-blood on board."
"How?"
"He plays the tyrant in the Captain's absence; he has stopped the men's grog for next to nothing, though he is seldom quite sober himself; he sent two of the apprentices aloft, and had them lashed to the topgallant shrouds, in sight of all the people; and, like a beast as he is, had the lashings wetted that they might shrink, a trick he must have picked up in the Canton river! He refused Joe Grummet leave, and me too, though there was no duty to do but the anchor-watch," said Bowline, referring to the two or three men appointed to look after a ship while at anchor or in port. "But hush! here he comes lumbering down the companion-ladder—screwed, I have no doubt."
Step by step he came down, his large splay feet, thick legs, the broader part of his person, his great back, short neck, and bullet-like head all appearing in succession. He looked full and scrutinisingly at the new-comer, while Hal, taking off his cap, bowed to each, and said mockingly:
"Mr. Derval Hampton—Mr. Reeve Rudderhead; Mr. Reeve Rudderhead—Mr. Derval Hampton."
The first mate eyed both viciously, particularly Bowline, who finished his grog, and eyeing him defiantly in turn, went slowly on deck, singing as he went a grotesque song:
"We bore away to the Greenland seas till we saw a
mighty whale,
The tremendous length of which, 'tis said, did reach
from the head to the tail, brave boys!
The captain on the bowsprit stood, with the mainmast
in his hand:
'Overhaul, overhaul! let the main-deck fall, and belay
her to the land, brave boys!'"
Mr. Rudderhead meanwhile seated himself on a locker and leisurely proceeded to fill a clay pipe, while quite as leisurely surveying Derval. He was a piratical, bull-dog looking fellow, about forty years of age, with a broad swollen visage, which, where it was not red by grog blossoms and blotches, was covered by cuts and scars, won in fisticuff battles in the vicinity of Wapping or the docks. His figure was powerful and suggestive of enormous brutal strength. His appearance was repugnant and dirty; he wore the kind of uniform prescribed by Curry & Co. for the officers of their ships, but it was evidently a second-hand suit, and was already greasy, foul, and frayed.
As his eyes met those of Derval, the latter felt, "by instinct swift as light," that he was face to face with an enemy—a worse one than Paul Bitts—who was, moreover, the cousin of his hostile step-mother, and no doubt in frequent communication with her.
"Oho!" said he, scraping a match and lighting his pipe; "so you are Derval Hampton, eh?"