"I'm not going to waste my breath by telling such a crowd of doss-house and prison scum as you are what I think about you," he said in a harsh, grating voice, that seemed to emphasise the insults. "What I want to say is this: the first man who raises a murmur about anything or hesitates in carrying out an order, that man I'll string up at the end of a derrick with a hawser for a collar. And remember this: I like a cheerful crew, and if I see a man who doesn't look as cheerful as he ought, by God, I'll clap him in the bilboes. Now get out of my sight."
The Captain stepped back from the rail and turned to the mate.
"I always believe in exercising patience and in using persuasion, Mr. Dykes," he said. "If, however, we should have any more trouble—and I don't somehow think we shall—it will become necessary to deal drastically with the offenders."
Without waiting for a reply, he walked into the chart-room, leaving Mr. Dykes and the second-mate gasping.
"What in thunder would he call 'drastic,' I'd like to know?" inquired the former. "He's already maimed half the crew and calls that persuasion. The Lord stand between me and his persuading, that's all I say."
"He's a bloomin' knock-aht, swelp me Bob," replied the second-mate in a tone of subdued admiration. "I thought the yarns I'd heard about him was all kid, but now—help!"
Later on, when Mr. Dykes conveyed his impressions to the chief engineer, the latter merely nodded without evincing the slightest surprise.
"I told ye he was a michty quare mon," he remarked calmly. "I wouldna advise ye to run athwart him even if ye've got liquor as an excuse."
"You bet I won't, not after this. I guess I'll have to load up pretty considerable on liquor before I try to hand him a song and dance."
"Talkin' about liquor, ye'll find a bottle o' rum under the pillow o' my bunk, Meester Dykes. We'll jest have a wee drappie an' I'll tell ye hoo I marrit me fairst wife."