“I belong in Eastport, Maine. My last berth was as second mate on a brig in the West India trade. We were wrecked a week ago, and a Salem craft picked us up and brought us in there. I’d hardly stepped ashore when I met Captain Weston. He called me by name, said he knew of me, and, being in want of a first officer, would give me the place if I could arrange to sail at once. Like yourself, I’m ambitious to get ahead; it seemed too good a chance to lose, and, as he was willing to advance enough for my outfit, I promptly accepted the offer. In two or three hours I made my purchases, mailed a letter home, telling of my good luck, and came aboard. As soon as I was settled in the cabin, the Captain went over to Marblehead after you.”
“Not after me,” I interrupted, and then I explained how I came to be shipped on the vessel as second mate.
“It looks bad,” he remarked when I was done. “Captains don’t usually pick up their officers that way. But doubtless some of the crew are old hands, and we can learn from them about the Captain.”
“No,” I declared, and then I told him of the conversation I had just held with Bill Howard.
“It’s worse than I thought!” he ejaculated. “New officers and new men throughout!”
“Why, what have you discovered?” I inquired, coming at last to the question which I had for some time been eager to ask.
“You’ll see for yourself when you go below,” he replied, “though I don’t mind telling you. He’s down there drinking like a fish, and is already so he can’t tell whether he’s afloat or ashore.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s no worse than that,” I said with a sigh of relief, “for I’m sure you and I can manage the brig.”
“It isn’t that that troubles me,” he responded quickly. “But you see he’s captain whether drunk or sober, and you can never tell what freak a drunken man will take. No, Master Dunn, we are in for it, and must stand together so far as we can for our own protection and for the protection of the crew.”
“You may count on me,” I promised, and as the watches were now changing I started for the cabin.