'I'll think about it, captain,' said Geordie. 'And in the meantime I don't think I'll turn to.'
The skipper looked at Brose.
'We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?'
'Certingly,' said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great Pacific.
From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do that no longer.
'If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage I'll double your wages,' he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning Geordie went on the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency at sea such a thing is next door to gross insubordination.
'I ain't goin' to take no more wheels,' said Geordie; 'and Braby will take mine. I've doubled his wages.'
Even old Smith gasped. As for Brose he felt sea-sick for the first time since he first went down Channel in an outward-bounder thirty years before.
'I'll make a note of it,' said the skipper.
They shortened sail in a devilish quick flurry of a gale out the south-west later in the day, and, as all the topsails were down on the cap at once it was 'jump' and no mistake. As an act of kindly condescension the owner went to the wheel and shoved away the Dutchman there who was congratulating himself at not being on a topsail-yard.