'Yes, that was it. And every time he said it, they both struck the table
and looked at me as if they would eat me. I now think, therefore, that
it is a new kind of revolver they intend to use upon us.'
But none of the others thought so; it was surely not so bad as that. But
something was impending, that was clear. And the relieved watchman went
to his berth with gloomy forebodings, and the middle watch did not get a
wink of sleep that night.
At seven o'clock next morning both skipper and steersman were up on
deck. No man could remember ever having seen them before so early in the
day. But there was no time to stand in amazement, for now followed, in
quick succession, orders for sailing.
'Heave up the anchors! Let two men go ashore and slip the cables!'
There was gladness and bustle among the crew, and the preparations
proceeded so rapidly that in less than an hour the brig was under
canvas.
The skipper looked at the steersman and shook his head, muttering, 'This
is the devil's own haste.'
After a few little turns in the spacious harbour, the brig passed the
headland and stood out to sea. A fresh breeze was blowing, and the waves
ran rather high.
The steersman, with a prodigious twist in his mouth, stood astride the
tiller, for such a piece of devil's trumpery as a wheel should never
come on board as long as _he_ had anything to say in the matter.
The skipper stood on the cabin stairs, with his head above the
companion. His face was of a somewhat greenish hue, and he frequently
ran down into the cabin. The old boatswain believed that he went to look
at the chart, the young man thought he drank whisky, but the cabin-boy
swore that he went below to vomit.
The men were in excellent spirits; it was so refreshing to breathe the
sea air, and to feel the ship once again moving under their feet.
Indeed, the old brig herself seemed to be in a good humour; she dived as
deep down between the seas as she could, and raised much more foam than
was necessary.
The young sailors looked out for heavy seas. 'Here comes a whopper,'
they shouted; 'if it would only hit us straight!' And it did.
It was a substantial sea, larger than the others. It approached
deliberately, and seemed to lie down and take aim. It then rose
suddenly, and gave the brig, which was chubby as a cherub, such a
mighty slap on the port cheek that she quivered in every timber. And
high over the railing, far in upon the deck, dashed the cold salt spray;
the captain had scarcely time to duck his head below the companion.
Ah, how refreshing it was! It exhilarated both old and young; they had
not had a taste of the cold sea-water for a long time, and with one
voice the whole crew broke into a lusty 'Hurrah!'
But at this moment the steerman's stentorian voice rang out: 'Hard to
leeward!' The brig luffed up close to the wind, the sails flapped so
violently that the rigging shook, and now followed in rapid succession,
even quicker than before, orders to anchor. 'Let fall the port anchor!
Let go the starboard one too!'
Plump--fell the one; plump--went the other. The old chains rattled out,
and a little red cloud of rust rose up on either side of the bowsprit.
The men, accustomed to obey, worked rapidly without thinking why, and
the brig soon rode pretty quietly at her two anchors.
But now, after the work was finished, no one could conceal his
astonishment at this sudden anchoring, just off the coast, among islets
and skerries. And still more extraordinary seemed the behaviour of those
in command. For they both stood right forward, with their backs to the
weather, leaning over the railing and staring at the port bow. Some had
even thought they had heard the captain cry, 'To the pumps, men,' but
this point was never cleared up.
'What the devil can they be doing forward?' said the rash young man.
'They think she struck on a reef when we shipped the big sea,' whispered
the cabin-boy.
'Hold your jaw, boy!' said the boatswain.
All the same, the cabin-boy's words passed from mouth to mouth; a little
chuckle was heard here and there; the men's faces became more and more
ludicrously uneasy, and their suppressed laughter was on the point of
bursting forth. Then the steersman was seen to nudge the skipper in the
side.
'Yes; but then you must whisper to me,' said the latter.
The steersman nodded, and then the skipper turned to the crew and
solemnly spoke as follows:
'Yes, this time, fortunately, everything went well; but now I hope that
each of you will have learnt how dangerous it is to lend an ear to these
juvenile agitators, who can never be quiet and let evolution, as the
steersman says, pursue its natural course. I yielded to your wishes this
time, it is true, but not because I approved of your insane rashness; it
was simply that I might convince you by--by the logic of events. And
see--how did things go? Certainly we have, as by a miracle, been spared
the worst; but now we lie here, outside our safe haven, our old
anchorage, which we have forsaken to be tossed about on the turbulent
waters of the unknown and the untried. But, believe me, henceforth you
will find both our excellent steersman and your captain at our post,
guarding against such crude, immature projects. And if things go badly
with us in days to come, you must all remember that it is entirely your
own fault; we wash our hands of the matter.'
Thereupon he strode through the men, who respectfully fell back to let
him pass. The steersman, who had really whispered, dried his eyes and
followed. They both disappeared in the cabin.
* * * * *
There was much strife in the forecastle that day, and it grew worse
after.
The brig's happy days were all over. Dissension and discontent,
suspicion and obstinacy, converted the narrow limits of the forecastle
into a veritable hell.
Only skipper and steersman seemed to thrive well under all this. The
general dissatisfaction did not affect them; for they, of course, were
not to blame.
None thought of any change. The crew had done what they could, and the
skipper, on his part, had also been accommodating.
Now they might keep their minds at rest. The brig lay in a dangerous
place, but now she would have to lie--and there she lies to this day.