“I’ll let you know when I haven’t got this wheel,” said the mate sourly.
“Do,” said Mr. Hutchins genially. “We shall see you at our meeting to-night?” he asked blandly.
The mate disdained to reply, but his wrath when at Mr. Hutchins’ request the cabin was invaded by the crew that evening, cannot be put into words.
For three nights they had what Mr. Hutchins described as love-feasts, and the mate as blamed bear-gardens. The crew were not particularly partial to hymns, considered as such, but hymns shouted out with the full force of their lungs while sharing the skipper’s hymn-book appealed to them strongly. Besides, it maddened the mate, and to know that they were defying their superior, and at the same time doing good to their own souls, was very sweet The boy, whose voice was just breaking, got off some surprising effects, and seemed to compass about five octaves without distress.
When they were exhausted with singing Mr. Hutchins would give them a short address, generally choosing as his subject a strong, violent-tempered man given to drink and coarse language. The speaker proved conclusively that a man who drank would do other things in secret, and he pictured this man going home and beating his wife because she reproached him for breaking open the children’s money-box to spend the savings on Irish whisky. At every point he made, he groaned, and the crew, as soon as they found they might groan too, did so with extraordinary gusto, the boy’s groans being weird beyond conception.
They reached Plymouth, where they had to put out a few cases of goods, just in time to save the mate’s reason, for the whole ship, owing to Mr. Hutchins’ zeal, was topsy-turvy. The ship’s cat sat up all one night cursing him and a blue ribbon he had tied round her neck, and even the battered old tea-pot came down to meals bedizened with bows of the same proselytising hue.
By the time they had got to their moorings it was too late to take the hatches off, and the crew sat gazing longingly at the lights ashore. Their delight when the visitor obtained permission for them to go ashore with him for a little stroll was unbounded, and they set off like schoolboys.
“They couldn’t be with a better man,” said the skipper, as the party moved off; “when I think of the good that man’s done in under four days it makes me ashamed of myself.”
“You’d better ship ’im as mate,” said George. “There’d be a pair of you then.”
“There’s greater work for ’im to do,” said the skipper solemnly.