It was a cold and unhappy day for them as they drove to the north-east, still under short canvas. But the weather broke a little, and they set the topgallant-sails at last.
"So long as we don't pile her up on the Falklands we should do," said the one other man on board beside Joe who seemed capable of taking responsibility. He was from Newcastle, and was, of course, known as Geordie. Naturally enough he and Joe divided the watches between them, and the remainder of the crowd sheltered their uneasy minds under their strength.
"I suppose if we bring her in we might get something extra," said Geordie, the day they buried the captain.
But Joe took him by the arm and led him for'ard from the wheel, at which a patient Swede stood.
"Geordie, old man, do you want to bring her in?" he asked.
"Why, yes, I suppose so," said Geordie. He stared at Joe. "What do you mean?"
Joe broke out strangely and struck his fist upon the rail.
"I want to see 'er sink," he said savagely. "I want to see 'er go where she's put so many good men. What right 'as we to save 'er to do more 'arm? It ain't alone as she's drownded my chum or the others, but she 'as a black record that ain't finished unless we finish it. She's strong, and will go on killin' for twenty years, Geordie. She'll make money for them as doesn't care, but what of the likes of us?"
He was greatly moved.
"She's caulked with men's lives, and painted with their blood!" he cried passionately. "I'd rather she sunk with me than sailed the seas any more."