The two conversed for a few minutes, and then separated, the supercargo going up on the bridge to join his jackal. Half-way up the ladder he heard the sound of angry voices. Hendry was quarrelling with his chief officer.
“Go and keep your watch below,” said the captain furiously, his bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely upon the mate. “I tell you that I'll keep the beggar in irons till he rots in them, or until Mr. Chard kicks him ashore.”
“Very well, sir,” said Oliver quietly, placing his hand on the bridge rail to steady himself, for the Motutapu was now plunging and labouring in the heavy head sea, and Hendry was staggering about all over the bridge—“very well. But I call on Mr. Atkins here to witness that I now tell you that you are putting the ship into great danger.”
“Say another word to me, and by God I'll put you with your friend Carr to keep him company!” shouted Hendry, who had now completely lost control of himself.
Oliver smiled contemptuously, but made no answer. He at once descended the bridge, and in the starboard alleyway met the chief engineer.
“This is a nice state of affairs, Oliver. Those blackguards of mine are half-drunk, and unless I get some assistance from the captain I can't keep up steam. They won't work and are saucy as well.”
The mate shook his head. “You'll get no help from the captain. He and I have just had a flare-up. He's half-drunk himself, and threatened to put me in irons. And none of the native crew will go into the stokehole, that's certain.”
“Well then, something serious will happen. I can keep her going at four or five knots for another hour or so, and that is all I can do. The second engineer and myself are dead-beat. She'll broach-to presently, and then you will see a pretty mess.”
“I can't help it, Morrison,” said the mate gloomily, as he went to his cabin.
Up on the bridge Hendry and Chard were talking and looking out ahead. The second mate, a young, muscular man, was standing by the wheel, and giving a word of warning now and then to the native helmsman, who was Huka. Although it was not blowing hard the sea had increased greatly, and every now and then the steamer would make a plunge into a mighty valley of darkness, and only struggle up out of it with difficulty. Careful steering was a necessity, for the ship was not steaming more than four knots, and the least inattention might result in serious consequences.