“Where is all this going to end, Mr. Forbush?” asked the boatswain one day. “Are those poor fellows to be left to their fate?”
“No,” answered the mate, firmly. “I shall report the matter when we reach Bombay, and I will agree to head an expedition for their relief.”
“But how will they get along meanwhile? Won’t they starve?”
“No. Titcomb told me that the island produced enough to sustain life.”
“Will not Captain Richmond be punished?”
“I earnestly hope so. If my representations will effect it, he will lose his command.”
“The man must be a fiend.”
“He is getting worse and worse. He does not treat me with ordinary civility, and he is beginning to abuse the men. He has not a pleasant word for anyone.”
It was indeed true that Captain Richmond was becoming more despotic and tyrannical than ever. On the least provocation he would fell a seaman to the deck or launch a volley of curses at him.
As a consequence, there were more angry looks than ever directed toward him as he paced the deck with hasty strides, shaking his head, and muttering words that could not be understood.