"Very well," she said, with just a bit of temper in her voice.
Gantline had gone below, and I was in charge of the deck until supper was over. The reading would not take long, and the steward was already bringing the cabin mess aft along the gangway. The young lady read calmly, and with a peculiarly sweet voice, that attracted the attention of the men, but not of the coolies.
The Chinks stood about, and some gazed out over the sea, some grinned openly up at her, with a smile that told of tolerance for an imbecile. Miss MacDonald, senior, went below to prepare for supper.
Before the girl had finished, Yellow Dog came aft, and gazed at her in open admiration. He made some remark to his stout friend, and they both smiled sardonically, but their attitude was not particularly offensive.
I found some business at the spanker sheet, and when I came forward to where the girl stood, she was finishing.
"There is only one way to treat heathen, Mr. Garnett," she said, "and that is to be always kind, universally even-tempered, and gentle with them. They have had a hard road for many generations, and take to kindness, as all lower creatures do. They will only get stubborn if you use hard words and roughness. I know something about their habits, for I've taught the school at home, where we had twenty pupils, all grown men."
At this I protested. I confess I was hot.
"If you are kind to them they will think you're afraid of them," I declared. "If you mule-lick them, hog-strap them, and generally beat the devil out of them, they'll do as you tell them—not otherwise. I'm not running a school aboard here, if you please, and while I will give you any assistance you want or can get, I go on the log right now that as far as we handle these men, we must beat them and lick them into submission. There's no other way at sea. It's brutal, but the other way will turn out more brutal. I'm not responsible for them being in this ship—but I'll see they get to their port of discharge, all right, if I have to flay them alive!"
"I think you are perfectly horrible—perfectly, brutal to say such things," said Miss MacDonald. "Are all seamen brutes? Does the captain stand for such things aboard here?"
"There is only one way to do with cattle of this sort," I insisted. "I don't want the job—I'd rather run in a bunch of snakes. But a ship's bound to be run the way ships are run. There isn't any new way to run a ship, believe me. It's all been tried out hundreds of years before you were born. Perhaps some day, when we don't need ships, the brotherly-love racket will work all right; but not these days."