The man then put on an air of injured innocence and declared it was a shame to try to starve men to death. But he sauntered forward, and the men turned in, laughing at the way they had "waxed the old man," but feeling a little concerned on the score of eating.
At nine o'clock in the evening, the wind hauled fair. The captain went to the forecastle, and after fifteen minutes spent in argument upon the propriety of their going to work, the promise of some tea, and other fair words, prevailed upon the men to get the ship under way, and the passage was fairly begun.
We passed through the Baltic and by Elsinore without any remarkable occurrence, except the increased independence and insolence of the crew. They felt that the Cronstadt disturbance had proved there was no fight in the officers, and some of the crew showed more zeal in taking their comfort than in obeying orders.
Brock particularly distinguished himself. He boasted in the forecastle that he was going to try to induce an officer to strike him, in order that he might raise some money by a lawsuit on arriving in New York. One day the ship was running before a strong breeze, under the main-top-gallant-sail. Brock was at the wheel, and, being a miserable helmsman, was letting the ship yaw about two points each side of her course.
"Keep her straight," said the captain.
"I should like to see any one keep her any straighter," was Brock's answer; and upon this the captain took hold of the wheel to prove that it could be done. Instead of stopping to witness the proof, Brock started forward.
"Come back here!" shouted the captain.
"One's enough to steer the ship," was the polite answer, and the fellow made for the forecastle, leaving the captain working the wheel, unable to leave it until relieved. The mate, finding out the trouble, went to the forecastle and saw Brock leisurely lighting his pipe.