Story 4—Chapter I.
“Black Harry.”
“The cap’en p’r’aps was in fault in the first instance; but then, you know, it’s no place for a man to argue for the right or wrong of a thing aboard ship. When he signs articles, he’s bound to obey orders; and as everybody must be aware, especially those in the seafaring line, the captain is king on board his ship when once at sea—king, prime minister, parliament, judge and jury, and all the rest of it.”
“But,” said I, “he’s under orders and under the law, too, as well as any other man, isn’t he?”
“Yes, when he’s ashore,” said the mate with the shade over his eye. “Then he’s got to answer for anything he might have done wrong on the voyage, if the crew likes to haul him up afore the magistrates; but at sea his word is law, and he can do as he pleases with no hindrance, save what providence and the elements may interpose.”
“And providence does interpose sometimes?” said I.
“Yes, in the most wonderful and mysterious ways,” said the mate with the shade over his eye, speaking in a solemn and awe-struck manner. “Look at what happened in our case! But stop, as I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rights of it, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Do,” said I.
He was the mate of a vessel which had been picked up at sea, disabled and almost derelict under most peculiar circumstances, with only one other survivor besides himself on board, and brought into Falmouth by the passing steamer which had rescued her. He was a most extraordinary man to look at. Short, with a dreamy face and lanky, whitish-brown hair, and a patch or shade over one eye, which gave him a very peculiar appearance, as the other eye squinted or turned askew, looking, as sailors say, all the week for Sunday.