His voice rose to a scream and cracked. He tried to speak, but tried in vain.
"Mr. Green, here," he whispered, and leaving the wheel to the man he had displaced, the mate jumped to the lee poop rail.
"Tell him he's no sailor; my voice is gone. Say he's a—oh, tell him anything you feel."
Green did so, and satisfied himself and Banks and the entire crew. And then, seeing Wilson, he gave him a friendly bellow.
"What cheer, Wilson!"
And hoisting the topsails, they ran on, leaving Spiller choking with helpless rage.
As it grew darker and they dropped the Palembang they picked up the mainsail, and shortened down for the night.
"We ain't in no hurry," whispered Banks, "and to-morrow we'll be up with my rocks, if I've hit it off right."
He was now sombre and dignified, and spoke with particular grammatical and moral accuracy. Not the ghost of a damn issued from his lips. He reproved Green for swearing, and held a service in the cabin, much to the disgust of the entire ship, as it wasn't Sunday. Perhaps to punish himself, for he always liked to stand well with the crowd, he gave them no grog after it.
In the morning he sent a man on the fore-topgallant-yard looking for his rocks, and as he gave notice that any one who sighted them first should have five pounds, the entire watch, which should have been below snoring, sat like crows up aloft and strained their eyes all round the horizon.