Meanwhile, a change had come over the lives and habits of the two mates and the chief engineer. The refining influence of feminine society—as McPhulach poetically termed it—was already beginning to tell on them. The mate, for instance, now used up two clean shirts a week and quite a number of white pocket-handkerchiefs; the second followed the good example by having his shoes cleaned every day, and substituting, whenever he happened to think of it, "blooming," for the sanguinary adjective he had hitherto favoured, and the engineer not only washed his face every night when coming off watch, but, on his own confession, changed his socks rather more frequently than he had done in the past.
Whether the lady on whose behalf these sacrifices were made was aware of them, and duly appreciative, the three dandies had no means of determining. McPhulach, who was a practical man and saw no merit in hiding his light under a bushel, did once suggest that Miss Fletcher should be tactfully made aware of the astonishing changes she had wrought. The suggestion, however, was promptly sat upon by the mates, who wanted to convey the impression that their present exemplary mode of life was in nowise abnormal despite the strain it entailed.
"I've had twa pairs o' socks washed sin' we started, and that's no' a month ago," grumbled the engineer, when his publicity proposition was opposed.
"You've got to remember you're a—bloomin' gentleman nah," answered Smith.
"It's awfu' expenseeve," murmured McPhulach plaintively.
Although Miss Fletcher was the last person to encourage familiarity, she was capable of a certain camaraderie through having lived so much among men. She had, it seemed, lost her mother at an early age, and since then had accompanied her father on nearly all his voyages. Therefore she exhibited neither the coy timidity nor coquettish lure which might have been expected from a girl of her age under circumstances like the present. Her manner towards the three men who had, as it were, appointed themselves her hosts was disarmingly frank; as a woman she kept them at arm's length, as a companion she was as free and easy as a man. Smith, when discussing her one day with the mate, remarked that she only remembered she was a woman when something was said which any decent man would resent. Mr. Dykes alone occasionally assumed a patronisingly masculine attitude, towards which, so far, the girl had shown no resentment. This, he sometimes tried to believe, was a tacit admission that she regarded him with special favour, if not with some degree of awe, though at other times common sense prevailed and he realised that it was due to sheer indifference.
But Mr. Dykes was becoming very dissatisfied with things as they were. For no particular reason, unless it was that he had given up his cabin to her, the mate somehow felt that he had a prior claim to Miss Fletcher's respect and esteem. He was, therefore, secretly aggrieved to think that Smith and McPhulach, whose sacrifices on her behalf had not exceeded a little extra personal cleanliness, were as much in favour as himself. In short, Mr. Dykes was in danger of falling a victim to the tender passion—if, indeed he had not already done so—hence the jealous feelings that were beginning to ferment in his bosom. He suffered most, however, when it happened that he was taking the second dog-watch, and, from his post on the bridge, could see Miss Fletcher, Smith, and McPhulach, laughing and chatting on the after-hatch as though he, Ephraim Dykes, had never existed.
It was during one of these "free and easys," as Smith called them, that the girl suddenly began to discuss the Captain of the Hawk. Hitherto she had ignored him as completely as he had ignored her, though a keen observer might have noticed that she frequently cast a curious glance towards the bridge when he happened to be on it.
"Bless you, he's a bloomin' bag of mystery, he is; a reg'lar perambulatin' paradox," replied the second-mate in answer to a question which the girl had put regarding the skipper. "There ain't no gettin' the latitude nor longitude of him."
"He's a michty quare mon," corroborated the engineer.