“What do you suspect, sir?”
“I? Nothing,” returned Shargeloes. “Who said I did? But I know what stuff I have to deal with, and, I tell you, I’m tired of it, tired to death. Well, I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again,” he maundered. “And mark my words, five-and-twenty years I’ve been to sea, and this voyage is all or nothing; it’s fortune or a lee-shore for life this time.”
“How did Captain Shargeloes get the command?” I asked Brandon, when we were alone.
“He put money in the venture—all his savings, so he told my uncle. He has the name of a good sailor. I can’t think what’s wrong,” said Brandon. “As to being happy, what about the owners’ agent? There’s responsibility, if you like! The skipper’s only got to sail the ship, and Dawkins does that for him. Dawkins is all taut and trim,” says the agent, who was becoming nautical in his language. “His cargo doesn’t shift.”
Indeed, the master was a popular man aboard. The men said, openly, that Mr Dawkins was the only officer who had spoken for them at the council, advising the captain to put into port (at Hispaniola or elsewhere) for fresh victuals. He was free with his tongue, and very brisk with a handspike; but that was all in the way of business. The captain might swear as he pleased; the crew had small respect for their commander. “Dawkins, he’s a good bit o’ stuff. He oughter been captain, Dawkins ought. As for Charley-goes, he’s no better than bilge.” So went the talk in the forecastle.
When we reached the latitude of thirty-nine degrees and forty minutes, the customary dreary and ridiculous baptismal ceremonies were observed. The captain had fallen sick of a fever and taken to his bed. The master’s mate had blackened his face with soot from the galley, attired himself in a white gown made of an old sail patched upon with scarlet blotches, and a tall red cap. With a sword of lath in his hand and a pannikin of ink at his side, he called before him the green hands, one by one. They kneeled before him, while he made the sign of the cross upon their foreheads in ink, and struck them smartly over the shoulders with his wooden sword. A bucket of water was then flung over them, and the baptism was done. The regenerate must each give a bottle of brandy—or the price of one—for the benefit of the old seamen, standing the bottles round the mainmast. The rout was in full swing—the red cap of the executioner burning like a flame in the strong glare of the sun, amid the mob of glistening, grinning faces; the decks awash, cries, oaths, and laughter sounding out upon the empty sea—when, from my station on the poop, leaning on the rail, I saw a figure stealthily emerge from the cabin doors immediately beneath. It was the captain. Stripped to the waist, a naked cutlass in his hand, he stood for a moment in the shadow of the poop, staring at the tumult. Then he stole to the side, and before I could cry out to Dawkins, who was standing by the wheel, he had sprung upon the rail, dropping his cutlass, and dived overboard. The alarm was given, but in the disorder it was several minutes before a boat was lowered. They pulled about for an hour; but the captain was never seen again.
IV
A Letter of Introduction
It is to be supposed that poor Captain Shargeloes mistook, in his fever, the noise and tumult of the merrymaking for the explosion of that conspiracy which had haunted him so grievously; and rushing on deck, intent to die sword in hand, the sight of the great cool plain of heaving waters allured his heated senses beyond resistance. He slipped over the side like a fish, and was gone in a moment. There was no more fooling. A death aboard, to the seaman’s mind, is very likely to bring ill luck; and the men, gathered forward, set quietly to drink themselves full, in accordance with immemorial privilege. Had a storm overtaken us, the whole ship’s company might have gone to join their captain that night—wherever he was. But the sailor concludes a kind of informal treaty with Providence. “I take my chance with your storms and foul weather when I’m sober; I pay my respects morning and evening; but I must be let to drink in peace on the days appointed.” On the whole, the agreement seems to be reasonably well observed on both sides. We ran all night before the favouring trade, beneath the velvet hollow of the heavens and the million million flashing stars; and the seamen lay snoring in heaps upon the deck.
At the council of officers held next day, Mr Dawkins was elected captain, amid universal approval. Someone then opened again the question of touching at Hispaniola instead of Barbadoes; for—it was most unfortunate—there was no doubt but that the men were half-starved.
“If you’ll give a look at the ship’s books, you’ll observe that p’int was settled once before,” said Dawkins. “And settled, in a council, is settled, I reckon.”