Now, as to ordinary weather, that was all as a sailor could wish for--
bright skies, fine starn winds, and the ship bowling along her nine or
ten knots an hour. We got into the warm belts, shoved up the awnings,
and had our bits of fishing as chances come up; but for all that, I
wasn't easy in my mind. I'd been so long at sea, and knocked about
amongst so many sorts of people, and in such different weather, that
appearances that would not have been noticed by some folks made a bit of
an impression on me, and not without reason, as you'll say by and by.
For instance, it didn't look well, so I thought, for a chap to out knife
and threaten the captain for hitting him on the head with a
speaking-trumpet, though it might be only in a bit of a passion, still
it didn't seem right; nor yet for the skipper to be always harassing the
men when there was no need--piping all hands up to make or shorten sail,
when the watch could have done it very well themselves, and then making
the men do it again and again, because it wasn't what he called smart
enough. You see, men don't take much notice of that sort of thing once,
nor yet twice, but if it's kept up, they grumble, 'specially when they
know they've been doing their best. Then the provisions were horrible,
and enough to make any man discontented; water wasn't served out in
sufficient quantity, and things got so bad at last that the men had
meetings, right forward of a night, about the way they were served.
I knew a good deal and heard a good deal, but it didn't seem to be my
place to go and tell tales, and besides, I never thought there'd be much
the matter, more than a row, and perhaps a man or two put in irons, to
be kept there till we got into port. I said so, in fact, to my mates
Bill and Sam, "and what's more," I says, "irons won't do for me, my
lads, so let's make the best of things, and get a better ship as soon as
we can." Sam grunts, and Bill Smith said it was all right; so we went
on with what was set us to do, and made as little trouble of it as we
could.
But there was one chap aboard as the captain seemed quite to hate, and
used to put upon him shameful. He was a thin wiry fellow, as yellow as
a guinea, and looked as if he'd black blood in his veins; but he always
swore as he had not. He'd got a Dutch sort of name, Van Haigh, but
hailed somewhere out of one of the West Indy Islands, and had knocked
about almost everywhere. Curious-looking chap he was, looked as if he'd
always got his parlour window-blinds half pulled down, and he'd peep at
you sideways from underneath them in a queer catlike sort of way. He
was quite a swell fellow in his way, only dirty as dirty, and that
didn't do nothing towards setting off the big silver rings he had in his
ears, and was uncommon proud of. We mostly used to call him "Van" for
short; and against this chap the skipper always seemed to have a spite,
bullying him about more than all the rest put together, till you might
have thought his life would have been miserable--but not it; he always
showed his white teeth and grinned, pocketing all that the skipper and
the mate gave him, till them pockets of his must have been full and nigh
unto bursting. Once the captain knocked him down with a marlinespike,
but he never drew no knives, not even when the mate kicked him, and told
him to get up. He only grinned, but it was a queer sort of grin, and I
didn't like the look of it.
These sort of rows used generally to take place when the passengers had
gone down of a night, or before they came on deck of a morning. While
before the cabin lot, Captain Harness was quite the gentleman, and it
seemed to me that he had a sort of hankering after Miss Bell, like some
more of them, or else he wouldn't have been so wonderfully civil about
having Mr Bell's chair moved here and there, and wanting him to take
wine, and things that Mr Ward said he was better without.
As to the fore-cabin passengers, they went on just about the same as
fore-passengers mostly do: asked every day whether we were nearly there,
played ship's billiards, and a bit or two of music; smoked a deal, and
slept a deal more, and only did just so much work as they was obliged
to. No doubt there was their little bits of squabbling, and courting,
and so on, going on; but my eyes were turned in another direction; and,
soon after we'd crossed the line, I couldn't help thinking how very
sixy-and-seveny matters had growed. Instead of being friendly, there
was quite an unpleasantness between Mr Ward and the Bells, for the sick
man was as jealous as could be, and it was plain enough that he
downright hated the doctor. As for Miss Bell, as far as I could see,
she never even bowed to him, and he and Tomtit used to walk up and down
the deck together, as if they were the fastest of friends. "And why
don't they bow to one another as they used?" I says to myself, as I lay
in my hammock. "Why don't you mind your own business and go to sleep?"
says Common-sense; and as I was too tired to argufy, I made no answer,
but went off sound.
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