The day the vessel put to sea the skipper mustered the men according to his custom, and made them an address.
“The master,” said he, “air greater than the servant, and the servant ain’t above the master.” Here he looked straight at Jim. “So saith the holy gospel,—an’ whatsoever saith the gospel is er fact,—an’ is truth. If it ain’t, I’ll make it so if I have to take the hide off every burgoo-eating son of a sea-cook aboard the ship.”
There were many men aboard there who had heard little of the Scriptures, but even if they had heard much they would doubtless not have cared to discuss them or any other matter with the skipper. His voice rose to the deep, roaring tone of the hurricane on all occasions, and when it failed to convince the listener of the owner’s logic, a sudden clap from his heavy hand generally ended verbal matters about as effectively as a stroke of lightning. Most of the men on board were used to kicks and curses, for the skipper reckoned he could handle any class of men that ever trod a deck. He had a fair sprinkling of all on this cruise. As the mates followed the skipper’s example in matters of discipline, the ship was as near to being a floating hell as anything above water could be.
Jim Murphy resented even the curses of the captain and mates, so he was rated among the after-guard as the worst man on board. His friendship for the pig was against him in the forecastle, and soon even the men of the starboard watch began to hold off from him.
“What d’ye want to fool with that porker fer? Yell never get er taste of him, hide or hair,” growled old Dan.
“He ain’t the only pig aboard this here ship,” answered Jim, “an’ I like him better than most.”
“Kind goes with kind,” observed the second mate, whenever he saw them together.
Remarks like this made by the second officer caused great amusement to the men of the starboard watch. But those who applauded the most were old Dan and his chum Bull Davis. These two worthies gave Mr. Tautline to understand that he was the wittiest second mate afloat, in the hope that he would “pet” them. When they found this was useless, the united curses of the whole crew were weak in expression as compared to the audible reflections of this worthy pair.
When the ship reached the latitude of the River Plate, old Dan came out openly for mutiny. He told with grim coolness and great detail of how he had taken part in an affair of this kind before. How he had crawled along the projecting sheer-strake outside the bulwarks towards the quarter-deck, while a companion had done likewise on the side opposite. How they had made the sudden rush aft and had engaged with their sheath-knives against the revolvers of the after-guard. A little more nerve in a few men who hung back and the ship would have been taken.
He had served part of a ten-years’ sentence for this, had escaped, and had been continuously afloat ever since.