CAPTAIN BALAAM OF THE _CORMORANT_

Captain Balaam of the _Cormorant_ was an ignorant old fool. Captain

Benjamin Wood of the _Scanderbeg_ said so. He was also obstinate,

ferocious, blatant, bigoted, and given to liquor. Captain Benjamin

Wood said this too. The crew of the _Cormorant_ agreed with the

crowd in the _Scanderbeg_ that their skipper was a disagreeable

personality: they phrased it differently, they said he was an

adjectival 'blighter.' And yet for all that there was jealousy

between the crews of the two ships, just as there was jealousy

between the two skippers. The only difference between them was that

the _Scanderbegs_ believed in their ship and their skipper and the

_Cormorants_ believed in the _Cormorant_ only. Both vessels hailed

from the same port of registry; they both traded to Australia, and

mostly to Melbourne; they were owned by related rivals, and manned

for the most part by men who knew each others' home affairs. It was

no wonder that when the _Cormorant_ was re-masted, as she had been

previously under-sparred, the _Scanderbeg's_ crew was very greatly

excited. Up to the present time their ship had made the best

passages, and now Balaam had announced that he meant to lick the

_Scanderbeg_ by a ruddy ensanguined crimson month.

'You're an ignorant old ass, and can't do it,' said Captain Wood.

'I'm an ignorant old ass, am I?' retorted Balaam, who was slow at

_repartee_. 'I'll show you!'

'I expect you will,' said Wood. 'I know you, Balaam.'

'You know me, do you?' said Balaam. 'Do you know anything against

me? I despise you, Wood; I despise you. You shortened sail mighty

quick that time we was in company off the Leuuwin. Oh yes, you

'anded that foretaups'l mighty quick, and I 'eld on to mine.'

'You'll not do it now the _Cormorant_ has some real spars in her,'

retorted Wood. 'You know, according to your own account, you could

never put enough on her to do her any harm in a cyclone.'

'I never,' said Balaam; 'but any'ow this time I'll lick your ugly

'ead off. It don't foller because a man's full of scientific talk

that 'e's a seaman. Great circles and double haltitudes and star

hobservations make me sick!'

'They'd make you sick to work 'em out,' said Wood. 'When you got

your ship resparred you might have got a new set of brains, Balaam.'

And he left Balaam foaming at the mouth as an old timber drogher

foams under bluff bows with a whole gale behind her.

They left London River the same day, and lost sight of each other in

the chops of the Channel. But since destiny was playing with them

they lay close together under the Line for the best part of a

fortnight in a dead calm. The _Cormorant_ was the first to draw away

in a series of light flaws, which were really the northern edge of

the South-East Trade, and Balaam signalled to Wood: 'I'll report you!'

'Confound it, she's a wonder in light airs,' said Wood. 'But what

she'll be in bad weather will settle it. I don't give in; not much.'

They ran across each other once more to the south of the Cape, and

both ships had a first-class opportunity of showing what they could

do in heavy weather.

'I'll run her under before I'll shorten sail,' said Wood.

'Blimy,' said Balaam, 'before I shorten down I'll 'ave the new sticks

out of her.'

Mr. Briggs, the chief mate, implored him to go a bit easy. 'She's

new to it, sir, and we're not settled down and set up the way she

should be yet.'

'I'll show you,' said Balaam. 'If she ain't what she should be it's

your fault. You're the mate, ain't you?'

But if the mate is responsible for the rigging the skipper is

responsible for trying it, and Balaam drank hard and tried it high.

'I'd rather fetch into Hobson's Bay under jury rig than let that

swine lick us,' said Balaam thickly. 'Mr. Briggs, h'ist that

main-t'gall'ns'l over the reefed taups'l and let her scoot!'

If they hadn't once more lost each other in a screaming south-easter

the catastrophe might have come right then. It was only when the

_Scanderbeg_ was swallowed up in thick weather and the night that

Balaam got so drunk that Briggs ventured to shorten sail.

'I wish he'd keep drunk,' said Briggs bitterly to the second greaser.

'Ah, his bein' only squiffy is very tryin', sir,' replied Mr. Creak.

'It strikes me, sir, that the men are gettin' disgruntled at the way

he keeps things goin'. They're beginnin' to want a lot of driving.'

'Then drive 'em,' said Briggs shortly. He was being driven himself.

The crowd for'ard were really very sore about everything. They had

no particular grievance; that is, they only had seamen's grievances.

The vessel was undermanned. Well, all British ships are. What's the

good of an Englishman if he can't do more than any one else? They

were, of course, badly fed. That was nothing: nothing even that it

steadily grew worse. What hurt them was Balaam's way of looking at

them. An Italian might have said he had the evil eye. They didn't

mind his evil tongue. The truth is that Balaam was sand in their

bearings; they got hot to think of him. They compared him with

Captain Wood.

'That's a man,' said Charlie Baker; 'a real one.'

'You're over young to go so large about men, my son,' remarked Smith,

a grey-haired veteran who had served his time in the Western Ocean;

'but I allow that Cap'n Wood is all there. When he was launched he

was classed 100 A1 and no mistake.'

'With a broad A for iron and a Maltee Cross for built under special

survey,' added Tom Paddle, who hailed from Newcastle, and had worked

in a shipbuilding yard.

'I never heard of no Maltee Cross connected with ships,' said old

Smith.

This raised an argument which lasted for the best part of an hour and

ended in Paddle being put down by a unanimous vote, though he shouted

as loudly as possible.

'You must be wrong,' urged his particular mate. 'Don't you 'ear

we're all agin you?'

'I'll fight on it,' said Paddle fiercely.

''Ow could a scrap settle it?' asked Smith contemptuously. 'Suppose

you and Baker fo't over it and you knocked Charlie out, would that

make black white?'

'Then 'ow the devil is a man to know the truth of anything,' said

Paddle pathetically.

It was the first argument of his that the rest owned had some sense

in it. But the row blew over, as rows do in the fo'c'sle, and they

abused the skipper till eight bells.

But if the row blew over it was more than the gale did. It lasted

for forty-eight hours and was followed by another. The way Balaam

carried sail made every sober man shake. That year, and at that

season, running down the easting was no joke. And as Balaam knew the

_Scanderbeg_ would go as far south as possible on the Composite Great

Circle Track he did likewise.

'Gawd's treuth,' said Charlie Baker, who was a joker, 'I've 'eard

tell of the brave west winds, but these 'ere are puffectly reckless

'eroes!'

Old Balaam stumped the weather side of the poop, or hung on to the

weather mizzen rigging and bawled--

'Let her scoot; what she can't carry--hic--she may drag. Mister

Briggs--hic--shake out a reef in the main taups'l; I smells the

cookin' on board the _Scanderbeg_, what ho!'

'Good Lord,' said Briggs. And Mr. Creak said so too.

'We'll be crawlin' into Hobson's Bay yet under a jury rig,' both

mates agreed. They prophesied sadly, gloomily; and they prophesied

right.

'The _Scanderbeg_ will lick us by months,' they said. Here they

prophesied wrong, for the _Scanderbeg_ was a hundred miles only to

the south'ard, and the same gale that was destined to whip the sticks

out of the _Cormorant_ was worse the further south it blew. They

were then in latitude 45° S. and longitude 56° W., and the Crozets

were on their starboard quarter. The real gale started at N.W. like

a perfect fiend, grew into a hurricane from the west with the centre

of the disturbance to the south-'ard, and when it passed away with

frightful squalls into a steady sou'wester, the _Cormorant_ was lying

head to wind, anchored to part of her own wreckage, and she hadn't a

feather to fly with. Captain Balaam went below and called to the

steward.

'Bunting, rum!' said Balaam, and Bunting, who was as white as

spindrift with terror, brought it. Balaam went to sleep calmly, and

left matters to Briggs and Creak. The worst having come to the

worst, being left to themselves, they proved to be men. They had

something to do and did it. They cut all the wreck adrift and rigged

a proper sea-anchor and repaired damages as best they could. But

they couldn't repair the damage done to the provisions. The whole of

the front of the poop had been burst in by the sea, and a big hole

driven by the mizzen-topmast into the deck right through the poop and

main deck into the lazarette. Into that there went so much water

that anything not in tins was unfit to eat. And now all the pork and

beef, save that in the harness casks, was found to be rotten.

'Great Scott!' said Briggs. The crew of the _Cormorant_ anticipated

starvation and had huge appetites. But they bore up well. A day

ahead is enough for men of the sea. Charlie Baker took hold of the

boys and felt them all over to see if they were fat. The others

thought it an admirable joke. The boys were not so sure that it was.

'Never mind, mates,' said Baker, 'a boy will go a long way, and we

'ave three! But I wonder 'ow the _Scanderbeg_ is makin' it?'

There is something peculiarly diabolical at times in the way of the

sea. It was a coincidence, though perhaps an ordinary one, that the

poor _Scanderbeg_ was just then wallowing at a sea-anchor a hundred

miles to the south of them, with nothing but the stumps of her masts

to show a rag on. But it was a far more extraordinary coincidence

that her crew were in danger of starvation. As Captain Wood did not

drink, his steward did. It seems necessary that some one shall at

sea, and though it is usually the skipper, who has no one to control

him, it excites no surprise to find that the steward does. This

particular specimen of a hard-worked individual went into the

lazarette with an uncovered candle, sampled some rum, which was forty

over proof, and fell asleep to wake in a world where we are led to

believe drink is scarce, though smoking is permitted. And the

_Scanderbeg_ was on fire just when the wind from the N.W. and a

falling barometer announced the approach of a hurricane.

The fire was put out and the steward dragged out, but what with fire

and smoke and water combined, the provisions he had charge of were no

more likely to do their duty than he was. They put him overboard

gloomily, and that night the hurricane fell on them and did its worst.

'Well,' said poor Captain Wood, 'I'm afraid the _Cormorant_ will beat

us this time!'

But he did not take to drink and camp in a wet bunk as Balaam did.

He worked day and night with his two mates, and made some sort of a

show with a jury rig inside of twenty-four hours. But he was very

much troubled about the 'grub.' Ships are never over-provisioned,

and even the stock of canned goods had been fired and fuzed.

'I'd give fifty pounds for a ton of biscuits,' said Wood.

It wasn't till they were under way again and doing nearly four knots

an hour with the sou'wester behind them, that an idea struck him.

'By Jove,' said the skipper. He slapped his thigh and suddenly

became cheerful. Mr. Boden, the chief mate, was very curious but did

not express his curiosity.

'The old man has something in his mind,' he told the second greaser,

Tom Hankin.

'I wish I had something in my stomach,' said Hankin.

And the skipper went below. When he came up he altered the course to

E.N.E., and Boden having taken a squint at the chart, became much

more cheerful. So did Hankin, though he tightened his belt. So did

the crowd for'ard, though they tightened theirs.

And the next day they ran across the _Cormorant_ in that almighty

waste of grey storm.

'Blimy,' said the crew, 'maybe we'll get some toke from this 'ere

'ooker wot's 'ad the syme misforchune as ourselves. I wonder what

she is?'

So did Wood, and when he found out he would have been much more than

human if he had not been pleased, though he had not read La

Rochefoucauld.

'She won't lick us into Melbourne after all,' said the skipper.

He hove the poor old _Scanderbeg_ to under the lee of the

_Cormorant_, and she lay wallowing comfortably under a rag of a

faked-up trysail and the head of a staysail showing on her forestay.

Wood bellowed to windward with a speaking-trumpet, 'Where's Captain

Balaam?'

Poor Briggs was tired and cross and insubordinate in his mind.

'In his bunk,' came down the wind.

'Is he hurt?'

'Drunk, sir,' said the distant voice.

'What did he say?' asked Wood of his mate.

'He said Captain Balaam was drunk, sir.'

'Ah,' said the skipper. He asked no more about Balaam, but inquired

if they could let him have some provisions. The answer he got was

rather a blow. But it was not so much of a blow to him as the

question had been to Briggs.

'We're starving already,' bellowed Briggs forlornly to the wind, and

the sea and the wreck to loo'ard of him.

'When will you get sail on her, d' ye think?' asked Wood.

'To-morrow,' replied Briggs.

'Make for St. Paul,' said Wood; 'provisions are stored there, so I

see in the Directory. We'll share 'em!'

'Thanks,' said the other speaking-trumpet. And then silence fell

between these two partners of the sea in high misfortune.

'She's really not so badly crippled as we are,' said Wood.

And that was true; so true, that on the morrow the _Cormorant_ crept

out of the waste of tumbling seas and the gloom of the grey dawn and

wallowed past them. Balaam was on deck dancing.

'Licking thunder out of you, you dog,' was his polite message of

thanks to the _Scanderbeg_. 'Crippled or all ataunto, we can knock

spots off of your old barge.'

'Oh, he's a gentleman,' said Wood. 'We won't reply.'

'I'm sorry he's likely to get to the island first, sir,' put in his

mate. 'I'd not be surprised if he grabbed all there is to get, sir.'

'Oh no, surely,' said Wood. But though he said so, the notion bit

into him and made him all the more anxious to get more sail on her.

He worked with the men like one of them, and only slept two hours out

of the twenty-four.

'He's a bully old man,' said his hungry crew: 'the best skipper we

ever sailed with. Oh, but ain't we 'ungry!'

They were hungrier yet when they sighted the crater of St. Paul and

rounded to on the north-east coast opposite the broken entrances to

the inner crater harbour. They anchored in deep water, and so long

as the wind stayed west of south were in perfect safety. But there

was no _Cormorant_ in sight.

'By Jove,' said Wood, 'she's missed it after all. I'm not surprised.

Balaam's no navigator. Called me a dog, did he? Well, I've smelt my

way here and he's out of it.'

The crew were joyful and excited. This was something new, something

a little out of the way in the dull, dead monotony of sea-life, which

as a rule is about as interesting as running a water-cart up and down

a suburban road. The august and awful sea is only august and awful

for those who have august minds. Seamen as a rule haven't; they have

only awful language.

'Blow me tight,' said Bill Waite from Shadwell. 'I sye, this is a

gyme! Sye, Tom, let's desert and live 'ere for hever and make a

farm!'

'Oh, let's,' said his mate, Fred Day. 'If it's anythin' like the

Canary Bird Islands, it'll be a fine farm for sulphur and cinders.

What I want is the grub, and get out of it. Give me Sandridge and a

pot of she-oak.'

They went ashore, pulling in through the crater entrance, and were

surrounded by gloomy walls nearly a thousand feet high.

''Tain't exactly as bloomin' as the Isle of Man,' said Bill, 'at

least not on a Benk 'oliday. Where's the grub, d'ye think?'

They found out where it was very soon. At least, they considered

they were able to deduce from the facts in front of them where it

was. The rude stone and lava hut in which it had been stored stared

them almost in the face. But it was odd, they said, that the door

was open.

When Mr. Briggs reached it he turned round and looked very much

disturbed. So did the hut. It had been disturbed recently, and

there wasn't as much as the smell of a biscuit left in it.

'The _Cormorant_ has been here and taken it all,' said Briggs. You

could have knocked the boat's crew down with much less than a

belaying pin. They collapsed upon adjacent blocks of lava and said

things not fit for publication except in realistic novels.

'The swine,' sighed Charlie Baker. 'Oh, ain't there nothin', sir?'

'Not a thing,' said the mate. He led the way back to the boat, and

under the wondering eye of the skipper, which was just then glued to

a telescope, they embarked and rowed back like a funeral procession.

'Captain Balaam has taken all the provisions, sir,' said the mate.

'All?'

'Every biscuit, sir.'

'Get the anchor up and make sail,' said the skipper. He went below,

and when he came on deck again the _Scanderbeg_ was standing out to

sea.

'Muster the men aft, Mr. Briggs,' said Captain Wood. And when they

came aft the old man addressed them. The pith of his address lay in

the tail of it.

'We must catch the _Cormorant_,' he said. And the men said they

would if human hands could get enough sail on their old wreck to

catch the robber and scoundrel, then somewhere to the east of them.

Men and mates and the skipper took their coats off. They clapped

make-shift sails on every stay till the _Scanderbeg_ looked like a

laundry drying-yard. They got up another jurymast made of the fished

halves of the main topmast. They made her four knots into five, into

five and a quarter, into five and a half, and then they lay down at

midnight and dreamed of eating.

They sighted the _Cormorant_ ahead of them two days later.

'There she is, the thief,' said the men. As the weather was now

finer and dry, they wetted their rags of canvas so that the sails

held a little more wind; they rigged up more canvas yet by lacing it

to the foot of their foresail, which did most of the work. They hung

out their clothes to dry, and tied them so that the very shirts held

wind.

'All right, my sons,' said the crowd of the _Scanderbeg_, 'wait till

we catch you.'

They drew up with her at dark. The weather was moderating fast, the

heavy sea went down rapidly: the wind fell light, and stars shone

through the breaking canopy of clouds. The _Scanderbeg_ drew up on

the _Cormorant's_ starboard quarter slowly. It was obvious that in

her present trim she could out-sail the other vessel anyhow, and this

in spite of the fact that Briggs had made good use of his spare

topmast. The _Scanderbeg_ had none. It had broken from its

lashings, and gone overboard like a match out of an emptied pail when

she was nearly under water and came up out of the smother like a

diver.

The crew of the _Scanderbeg_ were on the fo'c'slehead.

'Will he run aboard of 'em? By crimes, there'll be ructions,' said

Bill Waite dancing. 'Oh, the miserable dogs; oh, the scum o' the

seas; oh, the pirates!'

'Dry up, you ass,' said his mate. 'The skipper's goin' to 'ail 'er!'

'_Cormorant_, ahoy!' said Captain Wood, who came for'ard to the

t'gallant fo'c'sle. 'Cormorant, ahoy!'

'Hallo!' said Briggs from the poop.

'What made you take all the provisions, Mr. Briggs?'

'The captain's orders, sir,' said poor Briggs, who was obviously

ashamed of himself and his ship. 'I couldn't help it, sir.'

The two moving wrecks were now almost alongside.

'Clew up the foresail, Mr. Hankin,' said Captain Wood.

The sail was clewed up, and now the _Cormorant_ drew a little ahead.

'I want to see Captain Balaam,' said Wood. 'Is he drunk now?'

The night was suddenly dark, and the figures of the speakers barely

distinguishable. Nevertheless those on the fo'c'slehead of the

_Scanderbeg_ were aware that Briggs suddenly disappeared and was

replaced by some one else.

'I'm not drunk, you swab,' hiccuped Captain Balaam. It was a very

obvious misstatement on his part. 'I'm not drunk, you miserable

howler. There warn't enough grub for one, let alone two, so I

collared the lot.'

A voice was heard from his ship which contradicted him.

'That's a lie. There was plenty for both!'

Balaam left the poop hurriedly and was heard inquiring for the

mutineer who dared to put his oar in at such a time. Every man jack

on the main-deck protested it was not he.

'Very well,' said Balaam, 'when I find who it is, I'll hammer him

flat, flat! I'll massacre him!'

He came back to the poop and resumed his talk with Wood.

'Not enough for two--hic--and if there was you shouldn't have it.

I'll give you a bag of split peas!'

The men in the _Scanderbeg_ groaned. They had been living on split

peas for three days. Bill Waite signified what he thought of the

offer by taking an iron belaying pin from the rail and throwing it at

old Balaam. It was a good shot, but the distance was too great. It

hit the rail of the _Cormorant_ and fell into the sea.

'Split peas,' said Fred Day; 'oh, lor'! What'll our old man say to

that?'

Wood was a gentleman, and he very rarely used bad language. There

are times, however, when language to do any good to the user must be

bad, and Wood told Balaam what he thought of him. He ran the

_Scanderbeg_ close up alongside until Balaam thought he was going to

be boarded, and then addressed him. His crew roared with applause

and hissed Balaam furiously. They called him every horrible thing

they could think of, and Charlie Baker said 'Hear, hear' from the

_Cormorant's_ main-deck.

'It ain't our fault, maties,' he cried. 'Old Balaam's a cock-eyed

blighter!'

But Wood roared, 'Silence fore and aft,' and spoke once more.

'Will you divide the provisions, Captain Balaam? I ask you for the

last time.'

'I'll see you sunk, burnt, and destroyed and doubly damned if I

will,' said Balaam. 'I 'ates you, and don't hown to no obligation to

you. You never was polite nor friendly. Now you're repentin'. You

may go to blazes by express. My name's Balaam. I'm captain of this

ship, and don't take horders from a scientific lubber like you. I

ain't drunk--hic--though you say so. I'm as sober as a missionary,

quite sober--hic--and hif you incites my crew to mutiny I'll sue you

for damages and justice in Melbourne. Mr. Briggs, make sail, crack

on!'

He retired to a hencoop and sent for the steward.

'Bunting, gimme a drop o' brandy and gin mixed with a dash o' rum in

it,' said Balaam.

It was his favourite drink.

But in the _Scanderbeg_ Wood was talking to Mr. Boden.

'All right, Mr. Boden,' said he, 'set the foresail and let us draw

ahead. I'll not put up with this. We shall be starving in reality

in three days. We'll get even as soon as ever the sea goes down.'

And somehow it got to the men for'ard that the situation was not to

last. They ate pease pudding with loathing and smoked heavily.

'We relies on the old man,' they said. 'Oh, what a blighter old

Balaam is.'

They kept a mile or two ahead of the _Cormorant_ all that day, and

when night fell again the sea was fairly calm and the sky clear.

'We've got three boats fit to go over the side,' said the skipper to

Boden. 'Get 'em ready, and now it's dark you can have 'em swung out.

Belaying pins will do.'

What belaying pins would do for soon appeared, when the skipper had

the men mustered aft.

'Men,' he said, 'all the food which should have been divided is now

on board the _Cormorant_, Captain Balaam, who is no gentleman----'

'He ain't no seaman neither, sir,' said Bill Waite. The others told

him to dry up, and he subsided, blushing at his own audacity.

'And I propose to board his vessel and compel him to divide it.'

'Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!' said the crowd. 'Oh, ain't this somethin'

like!'

'If there is any resistance,' went on Wood, 'it must be put down.

For that purpose each of you will take a belaying pin, but you will

leave your knives behind. In half an hour I shall shorten sail and

man the boats. You will all keep silence. I shall go with you

myself to see that no unnecessary violence is used. Mr. Hankin, you

will remain on board with two of the boys.'

As there were three boys it is unnecessary to state that there was an

almost immediate fight to see who were to stay. Both who did were

much more damaged next morning than the victim who went.

At midnight the foresail was clewed up and a few more of the

make-shift sails furled. The boats were lowered safely, and in ten

minutes the _Scanderbeg_ was only manned by a sorry second mate and

two sore boys. The vessel moved off slowly into the starry darkness,

looking like a huge house-boat converted into a laundry. To the

westward the _Cormorant_ loomed darkly. She grew slowly as they

waited in perfect silence.

'This will be a lesson to Balaam,' said Captain Wood across the quiet

sea to Boden. 'I hope, I sincerely hope, that he is not drunk, Mr.

Boden!'

'Gosh, we're pirates of the deep,' said Waite, and the men in his

boat chuckled.

'Silence in your boat, Waite,' said the skipper. And as the

_Cormorant_ drew nearer and nearer the boats divided. The skipper's

boat and Waite's lay ready to board her on the starboard side. Boden

was to rush her on the port. Now they heard the very lip of the seas

against her bows. Her broken spars stood up against the sky. They

heard a voice aft. Some one struck one bell on board of her. The

man on the look-out sleepily said that it was 'All well!' And now

her bows were above them. They pulled a stroke and her sides loomed

high.

'Hook on,' said the skipper, and before the _Cormorant_ knew it she

was seized by what Waite called 'the pirates of the deep.'

'She's ours,' said Waite as he jumped on deck and found no one to

oppose him. In half a minute there wasn't a soul in the boats, which

promptly went adrift. Mr. Briggs, who was the officer of the watch,

was an unreluctant prisoner in the hands of Captain Wood.

'I couldn't stand it, you see,' said Wood, as he shook hands.

'I ain't a bit surprised,' replied Briggs; 'in fact, I rather

reckoned you'd not put up with it.'

'Fetch up Balaam,' said Wood. And Balaam was brought up. By this

time the two crews, who were no longer jealous of each other, were

standing together on the main deck on the friendliest terms.

'You're our prisoners,' said Waite cheerfully. And the crew of the

_Cormorant_ laughed, while Balaam bellowed like a bull on the poop.

'It's piracy, rank piracy,' roared Balaam, as he struggled in the

grasp of Boden and his enemy, the skipper of the _Scanderbeg_. 'This

is piracy, and you'll be 'ung for it!'

They slammed him down upon a hencoop with considerable violence.

'Dry up, you old thief,' said Boden. 'You ought to be ashamed of

yourself. If you don't stop kicking I'll land you on the jaw.'

He shook Balaam till his teeth chattered and he called on Mr. Briggs

for help. Briggs turned his back to him and walked to the rail on

the port side of the poop.

'We've come for those provisions, Captain Balaam,' said Wood, 'and we

mean to have them.'

'You're a pirate,' said Balaam thickly, 'oh, you're a pirate.'

'And you're a miserable, cowardly thief,' replied Wood. 'I don't

propose to argue with you. Mr. Boden, when we come up alongside the

_Scanderbeg_, shorten sail and we'll wait till daylight.'

'You're givin' orders in my ship,' said Balaam. 'Oh, this is horrid,

it's a nightmare; it ain't real! I must be dreamin'!'

He yelled horribly, and it took three men to hold him. One of them

was his own second mate, who hated him venomously.

'If you make much more row, sir,' said Creak, 'they'll put you over

the side. I heard 'em say so!'

'Did they, Mr. Creak?' whispered Balaam.

'They did,' said Creak.

'This is horrid, Creak. Oh, Creak, am I dreamin'? Pinch me, so's I

shall know.'

And Creak gave him a nip that drew a shriek from him.

'You've took a piece out, confound you,' said Balaam.

'I'm very sorry, sir,' said the second greaser, with a pleased smile.

'But you ain't dreamin', and the pirates down on the main-deck are

very savage against you. I'd give up the grub quickly.'

'Would you?' asked Balaam.

'I would, sir,' said Creak. 'Paddle whispered to me just now that

they had fixed it up to hang you, and Captain Wood too if he

objected.'

And Balaam, whose sobriety was returning under the stress, lost his

courage as his alcohol evaporated.

'I'd beg their pardon, if I was you,' said Creak. 'It's horrid being

hung.'

'Yes, yes,' said Balaam. 'Tell 'em they can have the grub quite

quiet. I'd--I'd like to go below. Creak, I feel cold.'

And Creak was allowed to lead him to his cabin. When he got there,

he locked himself in, and piled all his possessions against the door.

He fell into his bunk shivering, and when he slept he dreamed

horrible dreams, which were the offspring of terror and alcohol. He

sobbed and said, 'Nobody loves me!' He came near to seeing rats.

And in the meantime the two vessels lay alongside within a cable's

length of each other, while Waite and Boden used one of the

_Cormorant's_ boats to pick up their own. The cook of the

_Cormorant_ was busy in the galley, and the crew of the _Scanderbeg_

ate a square meal the first time for ten days.

'This is much better than split peas,' said Bill Waite. 'I shall

loathe peas all my life. I don't know which I despise most, Balaam

or pease pudding. Mates, it must be a horrid thing to have such a

skipper as Balaam.'

The men of the _Cormorant_ said it was horrid.

'He's a cock-eyed blighter,' said Tom Paddle, 'and I most willingly

would see you pirates 'ang him. And as for the grub we parts with,

what belongs to you comes without grudgin'.'

It was very handsome of Tom Paddle. But he was known to be generous

even when he was sober. He helped to transfer the provisions to the

_Scanderbeg_ with the heartiest good-will. When the transhipment was

made, all the officers of both vessels breakfasted on board the

_Cormorant_, while Balaam lay in his bunk hungry, not daring to call

for anything.

'I know Wood will 'ang me,' he whimpered. Without brandy, he had to

believe it.

'While I am a pirate, Mr. Briggs,' said Captain Wood pleasantly, 'I

may as well carry it out. Can you spare me a coil of three-inch

manilla?'

'With pleasure,' said Briggs. 'Is there anything else, sir?'

'What do you say, Mr. Boden?' asked Wood.

'I think we could do with half a dozen stunsail booms,' said Boden.

'I rather want them myself,' said Briggs anxiously.

But Wood was a good pirate, and did not weaken.

'I think we want them more than you do,' said Wood with firmness.

And he got them. Briggs was sore, but said nothing.

'Is there anything else you would like?' he asked with some natural

bitterness.

'Yes,' said Wood, 'I think we'll take all Balaam's sea-stock of

liquor. It will do him good.'

'I haven't the least objection to that,' said Briggs.

And half an hour afterwards the _Scanderbeg_ made sail, and forged

slowly ahead of the _Cormorant_ on her way to Albany.

'We'll report you,' said Wood.

But when he was nearly out of sight, old Balaam pulled down his

fortifications and came on deck, looking like a man who by a miracle

has shaved what are known as the 'jimjams.' He sat down and wailed

for Bunting.

'Yes, sir,' said Bunting.

'I think I'll have some brandy and gin with a dash of rum in it,'

said Balaam.

The steward looked at Mr. Briggs and grinned.

'If you please, sir, you can't, them pirates took it all,' said

Bunting.