There came a spell of bad weather, in which all hands were up occasionally, and then it was noticeable that both mates would blurt out the same order to the men at the same time. It only increased the general strain, and each mate mentally cursed himself and the other for the contretemps. Next, the men observed that the pet antipathies of Mr. Smith among them received more or less of the unkind attention of Mr. Jones, and vice versa. A Dutchman, kicked by the first mate in the morning washing down the deck, for working his broom athwartwise instead of fore and aft, was knocked down by the second mate in the dog-watch for passing to windward of him. An Irishman, damned at the wheel by Jones for bad steering, was set to work in his watch below by Smith for the small matter of eating his breakfast on deck. Other resemblances of thought and action occurred, more or less unfortunate, such as both showing kindness to the sick steward until they met at his bedside, then ignoring and neglecting him; and Mr. Jones's untactful appearance with his sextant when Mr. Smith was taking the sun at midday—an uncalled-for and regrettable piece of assumption on his part; for a second mate is not shipped to navigate, no matter what his proficiency. Again, each mate, unknown to the other, stopped the morning coffee of his watch on the flimsiest pretexts.
This communion of soul, mutually strengthened, became a force which pervaded the entire ship's company. The captain grew peevish, fretful, suspicious, and unkind to all. The steward became insolent as he recovered his health. The men quarreled and divided among themselves, uniting only in their hatred of the mates. The cook was mobbed for unprofessional treatment of the forecastle menu, and the carpenter and sailmaker fought a drawn battle for choice of seats at the second-cabin table—a matter that the steward might have decided, but would not. And thus animated, the floating hell sailed slantingly across the Pacific until hit by the outer fringe of a typhoon near the Society Islands, by which time the Orkneyman was released.
Mr. Jones had the deck at the beginning of it, and skillfully got the canvas in down to the maintopgallant sail, when the captain appeared, and, with a falling barometer in mind, decided to call all hands and shorten down to lower topsails. This brought the other mate on deck, and trouble began. The maintopgallantsail and upper mizzentopsail, however, came in easily, and were stowed before the evil genius of the mates could get to work. But then—the port watch to the fore, the starboard to the main—all hands manned the topsail downhauls and weather-braces, while the two mates slacked away the halyards and roared officerlike behests. It was a scene of wild confusion. The yards had been braced for a beam wind; but this wind was hauling aft and increasing rapidly to a screaming gale, which, bearing hard upon the fixed ground-swell, raised an ugly cross-sea that occasionally lifted a ton or two of green water over the rail. Captain Brown, to get his topsails in the easier, followed the wind as it changed, keeping it abeam; and, with a poor helmsman at the wheel, stood close beside him and added his voice to the uproar of whistling wind, pounding seas, the formless shouts of the four gangs at the downhauls, and the senseless upbraiding of the mates.
"Don't part those rotten downhauls!" roared the captain. "Watch out up aloft!" But the mates could not hear distinctly.
"Haul away on your downhauls!" shouted Mr. Jones at the main-rigging, and "Haul away on your downhauls!" repeated Mr. Smith from forward, each speech embellished with stock profanity. The yards were down, and the tackles aloft "two blocks," but the fatuous mates did not see nor hear.
"Belay your downhauls! Belay all!" yelled the furious skipper at the wheel. "Man the spilling-lines, and send a man aft who can steer!"
"Haul on your downhauls!" thundered the mutual-minded mates, and the exasperated men hauled with all their strength. There were six to a gang, and they could have broken new manila under the circumstances. The weather downhauls went first, and the wind within the hollow tube of canvas lifted the yardarms. Then a sea hit the weather quarter, boarded the ship, and washed the incompetent helmsman to the lee alley, where he lay quiet for a time. The captain seized the wheel and ground it up, yelling the while to "send a man aft, to haul away on the spilling-lines, to shut up that d—d noise at the halyards, and 'tend to business."
But in spite of his objurgations the mates could not obey. They ran about the flooded waist of the ship, shouting futile instructions to the demoralized crew to do this or that—and their orders were curiously similar, though inapplicable. Then, in spite of the captain's mighty heavings on the wheel, the ship broached to, spilling the topsails first, next the courses. The first slatted back against the masts, then forward against the strain of the bolt-ropes, started rents here and there, and in three minutes were in rags and shreds, while the yards, with slackened weather-braces, swung and banged about in a manner to send the crew from under. They flocked to the break of the poop, the two mates among them.
"Come aft here to me, you two hell-fired farmers!" bellowed the captain, and the two came. "D—n your wretched, miserable hearts and souls, if it wasn't for the law I'd slaughter you both! Look at my ship! Just look at her, now! Call yourself competent mates? Someone must have told you that. Take this wheel! Take it, both of you, and steer! Get this ship dead before the wind and keep her so! You can't shorten sail, but you can steer, and steer you will, straight and true, or I'll put you 'fore the mast!"
They gripped the spokes meekly, Smith to starboard, Jones to port, and with the aid of the shivered mizzentopsail got the ship before it, and steered—beautifully, with no sign or word from one to assist the other. Neither took charge, as is usual with two men at the wheel. Their movements were simultaneous and harmonious, with no conflicting judgments of pressure or release. They steered as one man with the strength of two; and Captain Brown glared at them awhile, then, unable to criticise, went forward among his men to secure his wabbly upper topsailyards. He tautened the braces; then, as all the downhauls had parted at or near the splices of the upper blocks, sent the whipped ends aloft to be rove off and knotted. But the first man up the fore had hardly reached the futtock rigging, when he sang out: "Land ho! Land dead ahead! Breakers under the bow, sir! It's a reef—a barrier reef. Hard a-port, sir, for God's sake!"