'You're over young to go so large about men, my son,' remarked Smith, a grey-haired veteran who had served his time in the Western Ocean; 'but I allow that Cap'n Wood is all there. When he was launched he was classed 100 A1 and no mistake.'
'With a broad A for iron and a Maltee Cross for built under special survey,' added Tom Paddle, who hailed from Newcastle, and had worked in a shipbuilding yard.
'I never heard of no Maltee Cross connected with ships,' said old Smith.
This raised an argument which lasted for the best part of an hour and ended in Paddle being put down by a unanimous vote, though he shouted as loudly as possible.
'You must be wrong,' urged his particular mate. 'Don't you 'ear we're all agin you?'
'I'll fight on it,' said Paddle fiercely.
''Ow could a scrap settle it?' asked Smith contemptuously. 'Suppose you and Baker fo't over it and you knocked Charlie out, would that make black white?'
'Then 'ow the devil is a man to know the truth of anything,' said Paddle pathetically.
It was the first argument of his that the rest owned had some sense in it. But the row blew over, as rows do in the fo'c'sle, and they abused the skipper till eight bells.
But if the row blew over it was more than the gale did. It lasted for forty-eight hours and was followed by another. The way Balaam carried sail made every sober man shake. That year, and at that season, running down the easting was no joke. And as Balaam knew the Scanderbeg would go as far south as possible on the Composite Great Circle Track he did likewise.