“An’ I don’t make no exceptions for passengers,” repeated the skipper, still glaring at the small and inoffensive O’Hara, who stared vacantly aloft. Then the skipper went aft to the wheel and noted the ship’s course.
Within another week after this speech of Captain Breeze’s a change had come over the ship’s company almost equal to that which had physically come over Mr. Garnett, whose long, flowing jet-black mustaches had now given place to a natural growth of stubbly, grizzly beard and whiskers. But of course the change of ships’ morals did not cause as much comment after the skipper had repeated his remarks in regard to swearing to the mates. Mr. Garnett’s private affairs were always of a nature that caused inquisitive and evil-disposed persons much interest, whereas the ship’s company interested no one, unless it was the stewardess.
As there was war on the West Coast of South America between Chile and Peru, the Northern Light carried her specie in the captain’s safe, as drafts and exchanges were difficult to negotiate. Captain Breeze was a careful and determined skipper and he had the confidence of the owners. He was a bachelor, but he debauched in moderation,—that is, in moderation for a deep-water sailor. Therefore it was something over ten thousand dollars in negotiable form that he carried in the small steel safe lashed to the deck beside his capacious bunk.
On the days he opened his “slop-chest” to sell nigger-head tobacco which cost him seven cents a pound for ninety, and shoes which cost him thirty cents a pair for two dollars and a half, he took pride in opening the steel doors and displaying his wealth to the stupid gaze of the men. The men were not forced to pay the prices he asked for his stores, but it was a case of monopoly. They could go without tobacco or shoes for all he cared. When they had done so for a short time they usually accepted matters as they were and signed on for both at any price he had the hardihood to demand. Oil-skins and sou’westers usually took a whole month’s pay, but that was no affair of his. If the men wished to go wet they could do so. He had no fear that they would attempt to crack his safe or steal his stores, for behind the safe and within easy reach of his strong hand stood his Winchester rifle loaded full of cartridges.
Mr. McCloud and Mr. O’Hara often had the pleasure of viewing the ship’s wealth, for there were occasions when the skipper’s temper was sufficiently mellow to allow them in his room that they might marvel at his power. He seldom failed to impress them. When the Northern Light had crossed the line he had impressed them into such a state of high respect for himself, and had subdued their own spirits so far, that he actually began to make their acquaintance. He would now hold conversation with them, but always in a tone of immeasurable and hopeless superiority. During this period the moral tone of the crew had likewise risen accordingly.
Garnett marvelled greatly during his watch below, and at night when on deck he could be seen walking to and fro in the light of the tropic moon, mopping the dent in his bald head and sniffing hard at his little vial. The change was dreadful to the old sailor’s nerves.
Mr. Enlis went about his duties silently, muttering strange sounds when things went wrong. The skipper’s promise to “whang the lights out” of any one caught swearing had had its effect.
One warm morning, after breakfast, the skipper invited McCloud and O’Hara below to try some beer. This feeling of good fellowship, starting as it did under impressive surroundings, developed into one of real confidence within a very short time. Mr. O’Hara had pronounced the hot, flat beer the best he had ever tasted, and McCloud had affirmed without an oath that he told nothing but the truth.
“Th’ only wan av all th’ saints that cud come within a mile av it,” said O’Hara, “is that paragin av goodness and all the virtues, me own old woman, Molly. She kin make beer.”
“Ah, the blessings of a good lassie!” said McCloud, holding his mug at arm’s length. “Captain, ye have me pity, fra I weel ken ye need it, being as ye are a puir lonely sailor-man. I drink to ye, sir, with much feeling——”