Like him, I then caught the sound of Captain Snaggs’ nasal twang, although he spoke rather thickly, as if he had been drinking again.
“Fo’c’s’le, ahoy!” he shouted; “wake up thaar an’ show a leg! Let one of the hands strike eight bells, an’ come aft, all ye starbow-lines, to take the first watch.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Tom Bullover, leading the way towards the skipper; while Hiram Bangs seized hold of the rope attached to the clapper of the bell, hanging under the break of the fo’c’s’le, and struck the hour, then following in Tom’s footsteps with a “Here I am, sonny, arter ye!”
I did not remain behind, you may be sure, not caring to stop in the vicinity of Sam’s galley after all that talk about him. Besides this, I felt tired out, and my bunk being on a locker outside the steward’s pantry, and just within the door leading into the cuddy under the poop, I was anxious to sneak in there without being seen again by the captain, so as to have a lie down, or ‘turn in’—if it can be called turning in, with all my clothes on, ready to turn out at a minute’s notice!
I managed to get inside, luckily unperceived by the skipper’s eagle eye and was furthermore assured of a quiet ‘caulk’ by hearing him sing out presently to the steward to bring him up some grog, as he was going to remain on deck till the middle watch. I knew from this that I would be undisturbed by his coming below for a good four hours’ spell at least; and I soon sank off to sleep, the last thing that I heard being the tramping about on deck of the men when Captain Snaggs roared out some order about making more sail, and the sluicing of the water washing from side to side, as the Denver City rolled and pitched, staggering along under a cloud of canvas, with everything set now, right before the wind.
The next thing I heard was a heavy crash of glass, and I woke up just in time to catch the tail end of a combing wave, that dashed in through one of the stern ports, washing the cabin fore and aft. The ship had evidently been pooped by a heavy following sea, that travelled through the water faster than she did before the stiff northward breeze, although we were carrying on, too, at a good rate, as I’ve said.
Aroused by this, I scrambled to my feet, and recognised Captain Snaggs’ voice coming down the companion way; but I did not fear his seeing me, as the swinging lamp over the cuddy table had been put out, and all was in darkness below, save when a sudden bright gleam from the moon, which had risen since I had sought my bunk, shot down through the skylight as the ship rolled over to port—making it all the darker again as she listed to starboard, for her next roll the reverse way necessarily shut out the moonlight again.
Captain Snaggs, I could hear, was not only very drunk, but, as usual, in a very bad temper, as he stumbled about the foot of the companion way in the water that washed about the cabin door.
“Durn thet fool of a Flinders—hic!” he exclaimed, steadying himself before making a plunge towards his berth, which was on the left, as I knew from the sound of his voice in the distance. “I t–t–t–old him them ports would git stove in, an’—an’—order’d him to fix the deadlights; but the durned fool ain’t done nary a thing, an’ there ye air, streenger, thaar ye air!”
He then staggered a bit and flopped about the water; and then, all at once, as I listened, he gave vent to a queer gurgling cry of horror, that seemed to freeze my blood.