“I don’t want no foolin’ nor shirkin’, an’ mum’s the whurd. Ef ye can’t understand English, yer got yerselves into a mighty unhealthy ship, fer I only spake ter onct. Ef yer do yer duty, I’ll be as tinder an’ aisy with ye as yer swatehearts, but ef ye don’t, by the howly, jumping Jezebel, I’ll bear down on yer, an’ thin stand from under.”
Then, cursing them individually and collectively, he sent them forward and retired to his own room in the side of the forward cabin.
On going aft again I found the skipper explaining some nautical matters to Mr. Brown in such a contemptuous tone that it was evident the old man didn’t believe in young men starting out as sailors with access to the quarter-deck.
However, the third mate kept his temper, and showed by his answers that he was by no means ignorant of the theoretical knowledge of navigation, whatever he might lack in a practical sense. He replied so intelligently to some of the skipper’s questions that I almost believed that he had been to sea before, and I was quite pleased with him.
As I now had a chance to observe him closely in his sailor’s togs, I could see that he was a well-made man and would prove useful with a little guidance from an older hand. His clear gray eyes looked straight into mine when I addressed him, and his small, though firm, chin gave him an air of honesty that was ill coupled with what I had overheard of him.
I had handled a great many men and had long ago come to the conclusion that I could judge a man’s capabilities as well as any one, so that neither denunciation nor praise of a person’s character affected my judgment. Not that I am entirely impervious to prejudice, for, being nothing but a rough and not over-intelligent sailor, I can hardly claim such perfection. Still, I allow it to affect me as little as any human being can.
While we stood the first watch that evening, I had the opportunity to judge the sociable side of the young man’s nature, for we talked nearly the whole four hours, while the ship ran along steadily to the eastward.
Neither Miss Waters nor her mother appeared on deck, and from certain sounds that issued from the cabin window, it appeared evident that they were not at present interested in nautical scenery. The skipper came up from below several times to see how we were heading and to look at the patent log, which trailed taut from the taffrail. He finally turned in, after muttering something about the glass having fallen a little.
“Isn’t she loaded very deep, Mr. Gore?” asked Brown, when we were alone.
“Deep as a sand barge,” I answered, “and she will be about as wet as one in a seaway.”