"Lay aft to the main-brace."
The men on watch hesitated a moment and then came crowding aft and began to cast off the weather-brace from its belaying-pin.
It was so dark I couldn't see how many men were there, but I noticed Bill the quartermaster, and as I stood waiting to see what would happen, a little sailor by the name of Johnson, who had a face like a monkey's and legs set wide apart, so they never touched clear up to his waist, spoke out to a long, lean Yankee man who jostled me in the darkness.
"Don't pull a pound on the bleeding line. The old cock's drunk, an' we ain't here to be hazed around decks like a pack o' damned boys."
The skipper, however, didn't wait to see if his order was carried out, but came down from the poop and asked for Trunnell and myself. We went with him into the forward cabin, and he motioned us to sit down.
"Did you ever see such a lot o' confounded fools?" he said. "Here I calls for to take a pull in the main-brace, and the whole crowd of duff-eaters come layin' aft as if the skipper of a ship should blow them all off to drinks. Blast me, Trunnell, I'd 'a' thought you'd get them into better discipline. It's come to a fine state o' things when the whole crew turns to every time I get thirsty. But never mind, sing out as you says, and tell the steward what kind o' pisin you'll mix with your blood current. Mine's the same old thing."
"It's my watch below now," said Mr. Trunnell, "an' if you'll excuse me,
I'll turn in. The third mate's gone below some time ago."
"Oh, the boat's all right. It's dead calm, and she can't hurt herself floating around this ocean," said the old man. "You can take a drink before you go. Steward! Ahoy there, steward!"
"Yessir," said that active mulatto, springing out of his cabin. "Yessir;
I hears yo', cap'n."
"What'll you have?" asked Thompson, addressing the mate.