Opportunity had also been taken, I noticed, to secure the broken engine-room skylight in a more substantial way than formerly, and so prevent any more green seas from flooding the hold, the opening having been planked over by the carpenter, and heavy bars of railroad iron, which formed part of our cargo, laid across, instead of the tarpaulin that was deemed good enough before and had given way when Mr Stokes—poor man—and the first mate and myself got washed down the hatchway by a wave that came over the side, crumpling the flimsy covering as if it were tissue paper.
Altogether, the outlook was more reassuring than when I had gone below; for although a fierce northerly gale was howling over the deep, making it heave and fret and lashing it up into wild mountainous billows, the heaven overhead was clear of all cloud, and the complaisant moon, which was at the full, but shining with a pale, peaceful light, while numerous stars were twinkling everywhere in the endless expanse of the firmament above, gazing down serenely at the riot of the elements below.
It was now close on midnight and Garry O’Neil came on deck to take the middle watch, it being his turn of duty.
“Well, doctor,” said the skipper, anxious to hear something about the invalids, “how’re your patients?”
“Both going on capitally; Jackson sleeping quietly, sir, though he can’t last out long, poor fellow!”
“And Mr Stokes?”
“Faith, he’s drivin’ his pigs to market in foine stoil; you should only hear him, cap’en!” answered the Irishman, looking out to windward. “Begorrah, ain’t it blowin’, though, sir! Sure, as we used to say at ould Trinity, de gustibus non est disputandum, which means, Mister Spokeshave, as yo’re cockin’ up your nose to hear what I’m after sayin’, it’s moighty gusty, an’ there’s no denyin’ it!”
The skipper laughed, as he generally did at Garry’s nonsensical, queer sayings.
“By George, O’Neil! I must go down and have a glass of grog to wash the taste of that awful pun out of my mouth!” he cried, turning to leave the bridge for the first time since he had come up there at sunset. “You can call me if anything happens or should it come to blow worse, but I shall be up and down all night to see how you’re getting on.”
“Och! the divvle dout ye!” muttered the Irishman in his quizzing way, as the skipper went down the ladder, giving a word to the boatswain and man at the wheel below as he passed them on his way up. “Ye niver give a chap the cridit of keeping a watch to himself!”