'You know me, do you?' said Balaam. 'Do you know anything against me? I despise you, Wood; I despise you. You shortened sail mighty quick that time we was in company off the Leuuwin. Oh yes, you 'anded that foretaups'l mighty quick, and I 'eld on to mine.'
'You'll not do it now the Cormorant has some real spars in her,' retorted Wood. 'You know, according to your own account, you could never put enough on her to do her any harm in a cyclone.'
'I never,' said Balaam; 'but any'ow this time I'll lick your ugly 'ead off. It don't foller because a man's full of scientific talk that 'e's a seaman. Great circles and double haltitudes and star hobservations make me sick!'
'They'd make you sick to work 'em out,' said Wood. 'When you got your ship resparred you might have got a new set of brains, Balaam.'
And he left Balaam foaming at the mouth as an old timber drogher foams under bluff bows with a whole gale behind her.
They left London River the same day, and lost sight of each other in the chops of the Channel. But since destiny was playing with them they lay close together under the Line for the best part of a fortnight in a dead calm. The Cormorant was the first to draw away in a series of light flaws, which were really the northern edge of the South-East Trade, and Balaam signalled to Wood: 'I'll report you!'
'Confound it, she's a wonder in light airs,' said Wood. 'But what she'll be in bad weather will settle it. I don't give in; not much.'
They ran across each other once more to the south of the Cape, and both ships had a first-class opportunity of showing what they could do in heavy weather.
'I'll run her under before I'll shorten sail,' said Wood.
'Blimy,' said Balaam, 'before I shorten down I'll 'ave the new sticks out of her.'