“‘In course’!” repeated the captain, in savage mimicry of Tom’s way of speaking; “an’ yer durned lantern got upsot, or kicked over, or sunthin’, an’ so, I guess ye sot fire to the sails, hey?”
“No, sir, there’s nothing hurt to mention,” replied Tom, more coolly; “it was only some old rags and greasy waste that the cook shoved down there that caught, which were the reason it made such a big smoke.”
The skipper snorted indignantly at this explanation; and then, craning his long neck over the hatchway, he sniffed about, as if trying to detect some special smell.
“‘Big smoke,’ hey!” he cried, as he stood upright again, and shook his fist in Tom’s face. “I guess theft’s jest the ticket, ye thunderin’ liar! Ye’ve been shamming Abraham in yer watch, an’ sneaked down thaar to hev a pipe on the sly, when ye should hev bin mindin’ yer dooty, thet’s what’s the matter, sirree; but, I’ll make ye pay for it, ye skulkin’ rascallion. I’ll stop ye a month’s wages fur the damage done to the ship—if not by the fire, by the water we’ve hove in to put it out, an’ ye ken tote it up, if ye like, yerself!”
Captain Snaggs then ordered the second-mate to go down and see if all danger were really over, and nothing left smouldering, not trusting to Tom’s assurance to that effect; and, presently, when Jan Steenbock came up again with a satisfactory report, the skipper, who was now shivering with the wet and exposure in such a light and airy costume, returned back to his cabin to finish his sleep in peace—not, however, without giving a rating to Mr Flinders, for his behaviour, which he said was as bad as that of the carpenter.
The starboard watch were then told that they might go below, though it was getting on for midnight, when they would have to turn out again, and keep the deck till the morning.
I don’t know how it was, but, from that night, everything went wrong with the ship.
The very next afternoon, a tremendous thunderstorm broke over us, and a nasty blue, zigzagging streak of lightning struck our mizzen-royal mast, splintering the spar and sending the tye-block down on the poop, nearly killing the second-mate.
If it had been Mr Flinders it wouldn’t have mattered so much, but Jan Steenbock was a decent fellow and a good seaman, being much liked by all hands, barring the skipper, who, of course, disliked him because he took the men’s part and let them have easy times of it in his watch.
This was the beginning of a fourteen days’ spell we had of rolling about in the sweltering calms of the Doldrums; and then, when we at last managed to drift cross the Line, we had another fortnight’s stagnation before we met the south-east trades, only a couple of degrees or so below the Equator.