Bull Davis was an escaped convict from Australia, and he seconded the old villain’s project in every detail.
One day, off the Horn, Dan was careless in modulating his voice when the second mate gave an order. The next instant he was sprawling in the lee-scuppers and the second mate was addressing him coolly.
“Don’t make no remarks about the weather in my watch. It’s a square wind, so up you go on that yard now a little quicker’n greased lightning.”
The devil was peeping from the old villain’s eyes as he gained the ratlines, but he said nothing.
When the ship ran into the southeast trade-wind, Murphy, the pig, was turned out on the deck to root at the seams. He would start down the gangways suddenly, without apparent reason, and go rushing along the water-ways at full speed, punctuating his squeals with deep “houghs” that would have done credit to a bear. On these occasions Jim, the sailor, was perfectly happy. He would call the little fellow to him and the pig would follow him like a dog.
“He is a cute little baste, an’ he makes me homesick,” Jim would say, and the mates and men would rail and curse at him for it. The only living thing on board the ship that was in sympathy with them was the blasphemous green parrot belonging to the carpenter. This bird would pray and curse in the same breath, and whenever Jim came near the galley would call out “pig,” “pig,” in a high key. Then it would curse him and pray for his soul.
One night Jim noticed that old Dan sat up late, sharpening his knife on a piece of holy-stone. Just before his watch turned out at midnight he awoke, and found that neither Dan nor Bull Davis were in the forecastle. He went on deck and walked aft, waiting for the bells to strike.
In a moment Davis appeared, coming out of the cabin with Mr. Tautline.
“There’s something wrong with the port backstay in the fore-riggin’,” said the sailor to the mate.
“What’s that?” asked Tautline.