"I wish I could poison it," said Brose, under his voice. "This is most 'umiliatin' to a man in the persition of an officer."
By noon Geordie was well enough to sit on deck and smoke a pipe. The "old man" came to see him.
"Wouldn't you like a berth aft now, Mr. Potts?" urged the skipper.
"I'll think about it, captain," said Geordie. "And in the meantime I don't think I'll turn to."
The skipper turned to Brose.
"We can dispense with Mr. Potts's services for the time, eh, Mr. Brose?"
"Certingly," said Brose. But he walked to the rail and spat into the great Pacific.
From that time onward Geordie did no work to speak of except to take his trick at the wheel. And when they were south of the Horn he decided to do that no longer.
"If you'll take my wheel for the rest of the passage, I'll double your wages," he said to Braby. And Braby jumped at the offer. In the morning Geordie went to the poop. It was noticeable that he went up the weather poop ladder. Except in cases of hurry and emergency such a thing is next door to gross insubordination at sea.
"I ain't goin' to take no more wheels," said Geordie. "And Braby will take mine. I've doubled his wages."