“Good morning, Captain,” said the man. “Ben Butcher, able seaman, at
your service. I knew you’d need me, so I took the liberty of stowing
away—much against my conscience. But I just couldn’t bear to see you
poor landsmen set out on this voyage without a single real seaman to
help you. You’d never have got home alive if I hadn’t come—Why look at
your mainsail, Sir—all loose at the throat. First gust of wind come
along, and away goes your canvas overboard—Well, it’s all right now I’m
here. We’ll soon get things in shipshape.”
“No, it isn’t all right,” said the Doctor, “it’s all wrong. And I’m not
at all glad to see you. I told you in Puddleby I didn’t want you. You
had no right to come.”
“But Captain,” said the able seaman, “you can’t sail this ship without
me. You don’t understand navigation. Why, look at the compass now:
you’ve let her swing a point and a half off her course. It’s madness
for you to try to do this trip alone—if you’ll pardon my saying so,
Sir. Why—why, you’ll lose the ship!”
“Look here,” said the Doctor, a sudden stern look coming into his
eyes, “losing a ship is nothing to me. I’ve lost ships before and it
doesn’t bother me in the least. When I set out to go to a place, I get
there. Do you understand? I may know nothing whatever about sailing
and navigation, but I get there just the same. Now you may be the best
seaman in the world, but on _this_ ship you’re just a plain ordinary
nuisance—very plain and very ordinary. And I am now going to call at
the nearest port and put you ashore.”
“Yes, and think yourself lucky,” Polynesia put in, “that you are not
locked up for stowing away and eating all our salt beef.”
“I don’t know what the mischief we’re going to do now,” I heard her
whisper to Bumpo. “We’ve no money to buy any more; and that salt beef
was the most important part of the stores.”
“Would it not be good political economy,” Bumpo whispered back, “if
we salted the able seaman and ate him instead? I should judge that he
would weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“How often must I tell you that we are not in Jolliginki,” snapped
Polynesia. “Those things are not done on white men’s ships—Still,” she
murmured after a moment’s thought, “it’s an awfully bright idea. I
don’t suppose anybody saw him come on to the ship—Oh, but Heavens! we
haven’t got enough salt. Besides, he’d be sure to taste of tobacco.”
_THE FIFTH CHAPTER_