“I should like to ask if the rest of the starboard watch may decide not to attend recitations,” continued Stokes, who was very anxious to learn something more in regard to the position of the officers before him.
“Come into the mess-room, Stokes,” said Gregory, leading the way. “The rest of the watch can do just as they please.”
The young tippler—he was nineteen—took the bottle from the locker, and, knowing the quartermaster very well, he gave him a glass of the wine. Possibly he thought the dose would stimulate his ideas, and enable him to reach the conclusion to which his superiors had arrived. Stokes was willing enough to imbibe, and he drank off the contents of the glass.
“I should like to know what’s up,” said the messenger from the cabin.
“In a word, then, we don’t like the way things are managed on board. The captain has disregarded his instructions; and that absolves us all from obeying his orders,” replied Gregory, as he drank another dram.
“Is that the idea?” asked Stokes.
“That’s just it. The captain has divided us into quarter-watches, and it is by his royal mandate that we are to study our lessons and recite them.”
“The captain’s? If that is so, how does Capt. Fairfield happen to be on board?” inquired Stokes, who could not help seeing the flaw in the first officers argument.
“I suppose he was sent on board to look after us a little.”
“But all hands were required to take their books and exercise-papers with them.”