Henshaw waited for a fuller explanation; he seemed to be enjoying the distress of Campbell.
"Just so," went on the Scotchman, "but there are two ways of handling a difficult sailor. One is by using the club and the other by using kindness. The club has been tried and hasn't worked very well with Harrigan. I decided to take a hand with kindness. The results have been excellent. I was just about—"
His voice died away, for McTee was chuckling in a deep bass rumble, and
Henshaw was smiling in a way that boded no good.
The captain broke in coldly: "I've heard enough of your explanation, Campbell. Send Harrigan down to the hole at once. We'll work him a double shift today, for a starter."
Campbell was trembling like a self-conscious girl, for he was drawn between shame and dread of the captain.
"Look!" he cried, and taking the hand of Harrigan, he turned it palm up. "This chap has been brutally treated. He's been at work that fairly tore the skin from the palms of his hands. One hour's work with a shovel, captain, would make Harrigan useless at any sort of a job for a month."
"Which goes to show," said McTee, "that you don't know Harrigan."
"I've heard what you have to say," said Henshaw. "I sent him down to work in the hole; I come down and find him singing in your room. I expect you to have him passing coal inside of fifteen minutes, Campbell."
Harrigan started for the door, feeling that the game had been played out, and glad of even this small respite of a day or more from the labor of the shovel. Before he left the room, however, the voice of Campbell halted him.
"Wait! Stay here! You'll do what I tell you, Harrigan. I'm the boss belowdecks."