'That's the way I talk,' said Ryder remembering the wife he had left behind him. 'I'm sorry.'
'Damn your sorrow,' said Watchett. 'But I'll lose no more, and 'taint your money yet.'
'Will you and Mary come on board to tea?' asked Ryder.
'I won't tea with no unfair person with no sympathy,' returned Watchett savagely.
And when Ryder had gone he set the crowd painting his beautiful white paint a ripe grass green.
'Watch if it soothes 'em any,' he said to Seleucus Thoms. 'If it seems to work I'll paint 'er as green as a child's Noah's ark.'
And that night there was no decrease of the Battle-Axe's sad crowd, in spite of the fact that he did not keep his word and lock them up in the stuffy fo'c'sle. For soon after midnight the mate, Mr. Double, felt one side of his face cooler than the other as he stood staring at the motionless lights of the Star of the South, then lying stern on to the Battle-Axe's starboard beam.
'Eh, what? Jerusalem!' said Double. Then he let a joyous bellow out of him: 'Square the yards!'
For there was a breath of wind out of the south. Both vessels were alive in a moment, and while the Battle-Axe was squaring away the Star's foreyard was braced sharp up on the starboard tack till she fell off before the little breeze. Then she squared her yards too, and both vessels moved at least a mile towards home before they began fooling all round the compass again.
'Them hands missin' makes a difference,' said Watchett gloomily. 'Less than enough is starvation.'