The hands then retired from the cabin, leaving only the captain and Mr Marline and I there, Jackson going out into the waist too, in order to draw some water and serve it out by the captain’s directions.
“Oh, Captain Miles!” I exclaimed when we were thus left together, “all my clothes are spoilt.”
“And oh, Master Tom!” he retorted, “how about my poor chronometers? They’ve stopped and will never go again, I suppose, till they’ve been put in dry dock in London and had a thorough overhaul, salt water not agreeing with their constitutions as it does with some folk. By Jove, though, Marline, I never thought of that before. I shall be puzzled how to get my longitude bye and bye, I fancy.”
“My old watch is going, sir,” said the mate. “I set it by the ship’s time before our capsize, and it goes pretty correctly, for I didn’t forget to wind it up all the time we were spread-eagling on the bulwarks.”
“You didn’t?” cried the captain. “You’re a wonderful fellow, Marline, and you ought to be Archbishop of Canterbury or something! You say you set it by the ship’s time on Thursday?”
“I don’t know what day it was, sir, but it was the last time you took the sun,” replied the other.
“Then, at that time, I recollect, we were in 32 degrees north latitude and 40 degrees west longitude. Ha, humph, I see! That will give us pretty well the time at Greenwich, with a little deduction. It’s all right, Marline, I have it. Mind, though, you don’t let the old turnip run down.”
“Turnip, indeed!” exclaimed Mr Marline in pretended indignation, winking at me. “Just you hear him, Master Tom!”
“Well, well, I beg its pardon and yours,” said the captain laughing; “but, let us get out of this disgraceful hole and go out on deck to see what the weather is like. Jake!”
“Iss, massa,” replied the darkey, who, I forgot to mention, remained behind when the rest of the crew went forwards.