The matter was reported to Mr. Dykes, who shook his head gloomily.
"You ought, by rights, to be half-dead by now," he said, looking resentfully at the boatswain's mate.
The latter evidently felt his position and tried to look apologetic.
"Can't even get an honest curse out of 'em," he said. "They've had three feeds already, and the cook says not one's threatened to kill 'im. He don't like it because, of course, he feels something's wrong. 'Tain't natural that men should just fetch their grub and go away without telling the cook just what they think of 'im. I've never see'd anything like it before."
"Something's going to bust, and pretty soon," remarked the mate. "An' it'll be a gaudy shindy when it does."
Later on he reported the state of affairs to Calamity, who merely smiled.
"The men are doing their work, aren't they?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well?"
"The fact is, sir, things ain't settlin' down as they ought to. The ship feels like a theatre when the boys are loosenin' their guns before the curtain goes down. I've been in the foc'sle and there ain't so much as a photo nor a picture-postcard nailed up. There's nothing homely about it, sir, like you'd expect to see; no cussin' nor rowin' nor anything cheerful."