TO SEA ONCE MORE
The process of adjudicating the reward due to the successful salvors
of a ship is a very complicated one, and any description of it would
be calculated to tire the most enthusiastic reader of a sea story.
Wherefore I do not propose to touch the subject further than by saying
that the value of the _Woden_ and her cargo was adjudged to be £17,500,
out of which Frank was awarded £2500, and a most flattering testimonial
from the underwriters engrossed on vellum, which I am sure pleased
him much more than the money. The other members of the crew were duly
awarded their shares by the court, and, as far as I have been able to
learn, were not only satisfied but sensible in the way they disposed of
these well-earned gains.
And now we must return to Frank for a while, who at the earliest
possible moment hastened home to dear old stony Dewsbury, and was
received, as you might expect, by the admiring crowd of friends and
relatives with immense enthusiasm. But his mother and his sisters felt
at once that the boy was gone for ever. In his place had returned a man
with clear untroubled sight and firm voice, accustomed to command, and
with confidence in his own power to _do_. His mother shed a few tears,
as women will, but secretly worshipped him; while his sisters hung upon
his lightest word, and looked with scorn upon all the other young men
they knew as utterly unworthy to compare with their stalwart brother.
Only his father of all the family now met him as an equal, and talked
about men and things with him as one man to another, feeling his heart
swell with pride as he looked upon this grave and self-possessed man of
eighteen.
Only a few days, however, had elapsed before he began to grow restless.
He wanted to be off again. The company of the youths of his own age
did not either interest or amuse him; they bored him with what he
considered their inane, incessant conversation about cricket and
football. Had they talked business, he could have understood them
and learned from them, but that topic they shunned as if it were the
plague. The serious side of life appealed to him, and while his sense
of humour was as strong as possible, and his enjoyment of life very
keen, he turned with positive disgust from people who thought of
nothing with any interest except games, and only thought of work under
compulsion, taking no pride in it at all. As a result of this he was
in an entirely receptive mood for the owner’s letter from Liverpool,
received after he had been at home a month, although one part of it
disappointed him bitterly. It informed him that the _Sealark_, having
secured a good charter to carry case oil from New York to Hong-Kong,
would of course not be coming to England at all until the close of the
present voyage, if she did then. And by the same post came a farewell
letter from Captain Jenkins, full of heartiest congratulations upon
his success, and keenest regrets at being compelled to sail without him.
The consolation, however, came in the postscript to the owner’s letter,
which informed Frank that he had been appointed third mate of the
_Thurifer_, a very large and fine steel ship, for those days, of 2000
tons register, and carrying twenty-two A.B.’s and eight apprentices. He
would, of course, be an apprentice still, not a great deal more than
half his time having been served; but he would live in the cabin, and
be treated in every respect like an officer. This news caused Frank’s
heart to leap for joy, and he was especially elated at the prospect of
having a cabin to himself; for although he had endured it cheerfully,
the dog-hole of a place which he had been compelled to share with three
other inmates on board the _Sealark_, had always been his greatest
hardship at sea.
And the fact that he had successfully striven to learn his navigation
and do all the writing that it demanded was the best proof possible
of his sterling quality of dogged perseverance. Moreover the owner
informed him that, in consequence of his proved ability, he would be
paid a small wage of £3 per month, although, of course, he was not
really entitled to any until the close of his indentures. The ship was
loading salt in Liverpool for Calcutta, and was due to sail in a week’s
time, so the sooner he joined her the better.
This summons drove all other thoughts out of his head, and he
became immediately like a keen hound straining at the leash, never
even noticing the wistful looks cast upon him by his mother and
sisters, and, it must be confessed, by several young ladies of
their acquaintance also, who were piqued, as well as amazed, by his
undisguised indifference to their charms and arch glances. No one
mentioned the matter to him, but if they had he would certainly have
retorted at once, “I have no time for silly spooning around at my age,
nor inclination either.” Yet there was not the slightest fear of his
developing into either a prig or a superior person, his work was the
thing, that’s all.
Two days after he received the summons found him speeding towards
Liverpool, full of eagerness as well as curiosity to see his new ship.
He had rather a hard parting from his people, for, besides their sorrow
at losing him at all, they had hoped to keep him at home until after
Christmas, the great family festival being due in about a fortnight.
But once away he speedily forgot all about that part of his life, and
counted the stations with the utmost impatience until his train steamed
into Lime Street.
In twenty minutes he was alongside the _Thurifer_, and his heart
swelled with pride. He had expected a grand ship, but not one so
splendid as this. Her mighty masts towered into the sky full 200 feet
from the waterline, her lower yards were over 100-feet spread, the fore
and main, that is; and although the jibboom was rigged in, he could see
what a gigantic spar it was. Moreover the extraordinary number of her
yards delighted and awed him, for, while the _Sealark_ and _Woden_ had
only carried ten yards altogether, two masts each, being barques, the
_Thurifer_ carried seven on each of her three masts, and Frank could
just imagine what a mountain of white she would appear at sea with
all her great area of canvas spread and drawing. But he was specially
charmed with her figurehead. She had been named by a man who had been
attracted by the sound of the word without knowing its meaning, but
when the carver was asked to design a figurehead for her, he, being an
artist, made a splendid figure of a priest in full canonicals, who held
a thurible on high by its triple chain, and the effect was exceedingly
grand, especially when, as now, it was properly painted and gilded in
its correct colours.
All this observation of his took but very little time, and he soon
called a couple of idlers and bade them carry his traps on board.
He was met at the gangway by a huge forbidding-looking man whom he
instinctively recognised as the mate. This gentleman, although I strain
courtesy in calling him so, with a deepening of the set scowl on his
heavily bearded face, growled out in a deep voice, “Well, what do _you_
want?”
“I am the third mate, come to join the ship, sir,” replied Frank,
looking him squarely in the eyes.
“Ho, ho,” retorted the mate with a very definite sneer, “you’re the
sucking skipper we’ve been hearing so much about, then, _Captain_ Frank
Brown, I presume,” with an ungainly bow of mockery.
Poor Frank flushed crimson and stood irresolute, not knowing what to
do. Go forward he could not, for the mate barred the way, and he had
never felt so awkward since the day he joined the _Sealark_. Suddenly
the mate seemed to notice that he was blocking the gangway, and moved
aside, saying as he did so, “Ah, well, I s’pose you think yourself a
little tin god on wheels now, and it’ll be my painful dooty to put you
in your right place again. And I won’t have any third-officer nonsense
either, mind you; you’re Brown, senior apprentice, that’s all, and
don’t you forget it. Go and get your dunnage stowed away as soon as you
can, I’ve got a job for you.”
And Frank, feeling dazed and cut to the very soul, hastened into the
half deck like a man in a dream, while the mate stood and chuckled to
himself over the impression he had made on the boy who, as he thought,
needed taking down a peg or two.
Frank’s first impulse was to sit and be sorry for himself, but
happily his natural strength of spirit and determination came to his
assistance, and he hastily unpacked such of his traps as contained
his working rig, and in ten minutes appeared in a well-worn suit of
dungaree, from which all its original blue had faded, looking eminently
fit and workmanlike. Going up to the mate, who was standing picking his
teeth in front of the saloon, he said, “I’m ready for work now, sir.”
“Oh, you are, are you? Very well, just go into the saloon there and see
the captain, he’s waiting for you.”
Frank turned at once and entered, doffing his cap as he did so, and
walking up to a keen-looking, clean-shaven man of about forty who sat
there writing, he said respectfully, “I’m the third mate, sir, Frank
Brown. I’ve just come aboard, and the chief officer has told me you
want to see me.”
The skipper, looking up, laid down his pen and stared steadily at his
interlocutor without speaking for about a minute. Then he said, “So
you are the lad that brought the _Woden_ home, eh? Well, as long as
you don’t suffer from swollen head I daresay you’ll do very well, but
understand once for all, I’ll have no owner’s favourites in any ship
I command. You are nominally third mate, and on the articles as such,
but you are really only the senior apprentice, and if you want to be
treated properly you must remember that. Another thing, you are in a
very different ship to that old tub the _Sealark_, and will have to
learn to do things big-ship fashion. If you behave yourself you’ll find
me what they call a decent skipper, but if you put on any frills I
shall have to put you in your proper place in two shakes. Now go and do
what the mate tells you.”
He turned to his writing, when Frank, stepping a little closer, said,
“Beg pardon, sir, but it seems to me that the fact that I have done my
best successfully has made me enemies already. I’m sure I don’t want to
put on any frills, as you and the chief officer have termed it, but if
I am to be the third mate and given any responsible duty to perform,
I shan’t be able to get anybody to obey me, if it is seen that my
superiors have a dislike to me from the outset. Please give me a fair
trial before you make up your mind to dislike me.”
The skipper rose to his feet and thundered, “Get out of my cabin, boy!
how dare you bandy words with me? Mr. Vincent” (to the mate), “give
this fellow something to do, he wants employment.”
“All right, Captain Forrest,” answered the mate, “I’ll set him goin’.
Come along here and get to work stowin’ the stores in the lazaret.
You’ll find some of your fellow-apprentices there. It’s aft, not
forrard.”
For one wild moment Frank felt impelled to throw up everything and go
ashore without considering what his next step would be afterwards.
But a sudden fierce determination seized him to show these cowardly
bullies, as he thought them, that he was not to be driven out of the
ship or out of his chosen profession by any such accidents as they
were, and he choked his rage down, merely replying in stereotyped
phrase, “Very good, sir,” and walking out of the saloon.
Now of course it will be asked by every one unconnected with the sea,
“Whatever could such extraordinary conduct mean?” Alas, although I will
admit that this was an extreme case, it is a type of conduct towards
subordinates that is, or used to be, exceedingly common on board ship.
It is the outcome of one of the lowest and most despicable passions in
our nature, “Envy, the eldest born of hell.”
Viewed in its baleful light, Frank’s offence was indeed unpardonable.
He had distinguished himself as no boy could be expected to do, and
would naturally be exceedingly puffed up in his own estimation,
according to their narrow ideas. Besides, he had been very strongly
recommended to the captain by the owner, which, to some men, is
an almost inexpiable offence in itself, and one that causes more
ill-feeling on board ship than enough. And as both the captain and
chief officer were men of an exceedingly suspicious and resentful, as
well as envious, turn of mind, their treatment of Frank was only to be
expected. I could give instances of similar behaviour, which have come
under my notice, and which I myself have experienced, but will refrain
in order to get on with my yarn.
Frank strode aft to the lazaret hatch and lowered himself down promptly
into the midst of four youngsters of about sixteen years of age, who
were busily engaged in roasting one of their number, a boy evidently
somewhat younger than the rest of them, and obviously about to make his
first voyage. Three of them were certainly experienced to the extent of
at least one voyage, and it was a great game for them to break Johnny
Newcome in. But they all desisted from their sport as Frank dropped
among them, and stood half on the defensive, like hens when a strange
fowl is introduced to them. Frank just smiled cheerfully upon them and
said, “All right, boys, I’m one of yourselves, don’t mind me. But the
mate’ll be here in a minute or two, if I don’t mistake, and I don’t
know how you stand with him, but I don’t want him to find me one of the
unemployed. What are you supposed to be doing?”
The eldest boy present piped up, “We’re supposed to be stowing the
stores, but, as we don’t know anything about it, we’re not getting on
very fast. We heard that the third mate was coming to-day, and then I
s’pose we shall be all right.”
Frank laughed, but with a supreme effort, for his heart was very heavy,
and said, “Well, I’m supposed to be the third mate, so I’d better start
in, I think. But first of all, what’s your names?”
“Mine’s Thompson,” piped up the first speaker.
“Selden me,” chipped up another.
“Fitzgerald,” said a third.
The new-comer, who had not settled yet after his ragging, sullenly
mumbled, “My name is Reginald Percy Smith, and I want to complain to
the captain.”
There was a short, violent burst of laughter from the other young
rascals at this, and Frank, tapping him kindly on the shoulder, said,
“All right, Reggie, we’ll see about complaining afterwards. At present
what we’ve got to do is to get these cases and bags and barrels stowed
away snugly, so that they won’t get adrift when we are at sea. So here
goes,” and seizing one of the cases he up-ended it, and worked it into
a vacant space which gaped to receive it.
In five minutes the whole of them were labouring energetically under
Frank’s direction to get the chaos of packages reduced to something
like order. And then the mate came down with words of snarling
disparagement of Frank’s ability as a stevedore, made them do most
of the work over again, while Frank set his teeth and said nothing.
But even the new-comer could see the purposeful malice in the mate’s
behaviour, and, although he could not understand it, he dimly resented
it, for it reminded him of the bully at school.
Now I do not care to dwell further upon the way in which, during the
remaining days of the ship in dock, the mate endeavoured to make
life a burden to the young third mate, and succeeded in making him
nervous and diffident about his work, anxious as ever to do that work
well, but doubtful of his ability. Still I must record one fact that
commends itself to me as being the act of a brave man, to say nothing
of a youth. In the midst of this sore trial Frank allowed no word of
complaint to escape him to his father or the owner. And this he did
knowing as well as possible what a voyage was awaiting him. I feel that
he was quixotically heroic, but there it is, he made up his mind that
he would go through this thing no matter what the cost might be. And
out of this grew one good thing. The other lads, three of whom were new
and the other four all second voyagers, grew to admire him immensely,
some of them to love him, and of course that helped.
Then came sailing day, and with it a crowd of wasters, the dregs of
Liverpool, there being a dearth of foremast hands just then, and
skippers being glad to take what they could get. Only three out of
the twenty appeared to be good sailormen, the rest looked as if a
tramp steamer was the only kind of craft they had ever known, and in
consequence they were almost as much out of place on board of a ship
dependent for her motive power upon the wind as a landsman would be,
except for the matter of sickness.
The second mate, who joined late, was a splendidly clean-built young
fellow, who looked not only the highest type of seamen, but bore
unmistakably the hall-mark of a gentleman; and, as like cleaves to
like, he soon found Frank out, and took to him at once, uttering a
few kindly words in appreciation of his late feat that gave Frank the
first sensation of pleasure he had known since he came on board. He
had served his time in one of the splendid ships of Messrs. Patrick
Henderson & Co., the _Oamaru_, on the long trail from England to New
Zealand, being third mate on his last voyage, and this was his first
essay as second. His name was James Wilson, an Englishman from the
Midlands.
Precisely at noon on a grim December day, the 13th of that stern month,
the _Thurifer_ was seized by the tug and dragged out into the river,
looking most ungainly and helpless among the huge trim liners lying
easily at anchor on the bosom of the grey Mersey as she submitted
clumsily to the fussy efforts of the great Jolliffe tug. No sooner
was she in the river, and the mooring gear cleared away, than the big
business of rigging the jibboom out was taken in hand, and here the
mate got the first taste of the quality of his crew. Fortunately he
had as a bo’sun a huge Londoner from Blackwall, one of those splendid
seamen of the old school who, although he could hardly write his name,
could do anything with rope and wire and canvas that was possible,
having been, as he was wont to say laughingly, almost born in a
rigging-loft. In addition he was immensely strong, and stood well over
six feet.
This worthy seaman, under the orders of the mate, marshalled his motley
gang, who tumbled over one another, got in the way of the good men,
and showed conclusively that they were hopelessly bewildered at the
vast entanglement. There was much shouting and cursing and objurgation
generally of men who sign on as seamen and are only labourers, the mate
being almost beside himself with rage. Frank was in the thick of it
toiling like any beaver, and by his intelligent seamanship completely
winning the heart of the bo’sun, who, being so good a sailor himself,
was fully able to appreciate Frank’s ability, smartness, and industry.
But even Frank was amazed at the magnitude of the spar which they
were handling, and the complication of gear attached to it, for, as
he afterwards said in conversation with the bo’sun, the _Sealark’s_
jibboom was only a walking-stick compared with it. And as the number
of really useful hands engaged upon it was limited to four men and two
lads, the work proceeded but slowly, while the mate raved and swore
like a man possessed of a devil.
Steadily seaward went the ship into a rising gale, a nasty sea, and
the coming night. Gradually she began to dip and curtsy to the seas
as she was dragged to meet them, adding to the immense difficulty of
the work being performed by the devoted handful of workers, because
of the great showers of spray that were continually breaking over the
bows. But at last the mighty job was finished as well as it could be
under the circumstances, and wearied to the very bone, the workers’
thoughts were turned to rest. But in cases of this kind, especially
leaving Liverpool, where a ship is on the high sea so soon, those that
have knowledge have the burden laid upon them of using that knowledge,
with generally the added satisfaction of finding that the wasters and
loafers have a far better time all round.
However, respite came at last, and all hands, with the exception of
those at the wheel and look-out, went to supper, with the prospect
of presently being started at setting the great sails and proceeding
independently. Frank went to his cabin, which he was to share with the
second mate, and while waiting for his call to supper prepared to have
a wash.
But he had hardly entered before he heard the harsh voice of the mate
shouting, “Brown, where have you got to?”
Frank presented himself at once, and the mate said impressively, “What
sort of an officer do you think yourself, sneaking off below directly
you see a slant, like any other waster? You’ll keep watch up here with
the pilot, while the captain and I go to get our suppers, and don’t let
me catch you shirking again.”
Frank merely uttered the formula, “Very good, sir,” and turned away
rather relieved than otherwise, for he noted that the mate had
recognised him as an officer, against his previous declaration that he
was only a senior apprentice.
So he paced the broad expanse of the poop, looking round at the
darkening, lowering sky and rising sea, and feeling a sense of
responsibility coming back to him again to compensate him. Also the
pilot spoke a few cheery words to him about his recent exploit, warming
his heart anew, because praise from such men is of all the most
valuable to a sailor.
Then came the mate, who said ungraciously, “Go and get your supper, and
make haste up again. Don’t sit there half the night.”
Frank went, and found to his delight Mr. Wilson already at the table,
and the two had a most delightful meal, hurried, it is true, but the
food was good, and they were in full sympathy with each other on every
point. Wilson, however, was inclined to be pessimistic, dwelling upon
the obvious incapacity of the crew and the harshness of the skipper and
mate. He had already come into conflict with the former, who, although
a prime seaman, had the unfortunate belief that the way to treat young
officers was to bully and discourage them, forgetting entirely his own
first nervous essay as junior mate, so that, apart from the fact that
he was a genial, gentlemanly young fellow, his heart went out to Frank,
who, he felt, was going to be his brother in affliction, although of
course they would see little of each other, being in different watches.
Having finished their meal, they both hastened on deck, to be met
immediately by the thundered order of the skipper to get sail on the
ship. “Now,” thought Frank, “the fun begins.” And it was even so. The
utter incapacity and helplessness of the crew generally became at
once a very real and pressing danger. They could not go aloft in most
cases; those who did, always excepted the three prime seamen before
mentioned, could do nothing when they got there but cling tenaciously
to whatever rope came first, to do the smallest thing was beyond their
power entirely.
But here, as so often happens, the boys came to the rescue. There were
five of them, including Frank, who had been to sea at least a voyage,
and three had received a comprehensive sea education in the _Conway_,
the cadet-ship at Rock Ferry. So they were now called upon to exert all
their youthful strength and skill in making up for the deficiencies of
the men. The work, of course, took a shockingly long time to perform,
for the wasters of the crew did not even know how to pull, being clumsy
almost beyond belief, but still one by one the huge sails were spread,
until the _Thurifer_, under whole topsails, foresail, and lower fore
and aft sails, began to gain upon the tug, the wind blowing quite
strongly from the west, with promise of a speedy increase.
The time had come to part, the ship being now in mid-Channel, abreast
of Bardsey Island, with the deep bight of Cardigan Bay under her lee,
the narrow strait between Carnsore and St. David’s ahead of her, a gale
imminent, and night coming on thick and black. But whatever any one
felt he showed no sign, and the usual signal having been made to the
tug, she eased astern in order to assist the crew to get in the mighty
hawser. Indeed it is most probable that had she not done so they would
have been unable to do it without losing a tremendous lot of ground. As
it was, the job was got over fairly well, the tug dropped alongside and
took off the pilot as previously arranged, and the _Thurifer_ was left
to herself and her crew.
No sooner were the yards trimmed and the hawser stowed away than the
word was passed along for all hands to lay aft, while Frank was told
to take the wheel. The skipper came to the break of the poop when they
were all assembled and said, “Before the officers pick for watches
I want to tell you fellows, all but the three sailormen among you,
that if you think you’re going to ship as A.B.’s aboard my vessel not
knowing the first thing about your business, if you think you’re going
to obtain money under false pretences like that and have a good time,
you’ve made the one mistake of your worthless lives. You are just a
gang of low-down bummers, up to every dirty trick of loaferdom, and
would see honest able men kill themselves doing your work, if you’re
allowed to. But you won’t be. Until you pick up your work, and put all
the guts into it you’ve got, I’m going to make this ship a floating
hell for you, and don’t you forget it. Now go ahead and pick your
vermin, Mr. Vincent.” And he turned on his heel and walked away.
The business of the selection was soon over, and the men were dismissed
to begin, as inauspicious a voyage as could well be imagined. And
whatever we may think of the behaviour of the skipper and mate, it
must be remembered that the problem they had to face was a hard
one--especially so under the present circumstances. But fortunately
the gale increased in force very slowly, and held true to its point.
Also the ship was splendidly staunch and strong, every item of her
equipment being of the very best, so that they were able to carry
sail until the morning, when the danger point was passed, and what
had become an imperative necessity of shortening sail could be safely
yielded to without jeopardising the safety of the ship.
But the toil and strain upon the handful of competents, especially the
boys, was very great, for they had to do all the work that was hardest
and most dangerous, in spite of the relentless driving exercised by the
mate and bo’sun upon the wasters. Their lives were indeed made a burden
to them, and doubtless in the eyes of all the others they deserved it,
but landsfolk should be able to spare a grain or two of pity for them,
seeing that they had never before realised the difference between a
tramp steamer and a sailing ship.
As a plain fact, nobody on board could boast of having much of a good
time during the first fortnight of the _Thurifer’s_ voyage. Nothing but
sheer seamanship and dogged determination on the part of the skipper
and mate brought her through gale after gale, which rose up against
her, and tried to drive her back. So severe was the strain and the
stress of iron discipline introduced by the skipper that Christmas
passed unnoticed in the midst of the hard work of sail-handling and
working up of the greenhorns, only the very slightest addition
being made to the grub served out, and the very word Christmas being
unmentioned in the after part of the ship.
And yet I feel sure that this iron time did Frank and the second mate
good. It brought out all that was best in them, and the terrific
training stiffened their muscles. Also, though they received no word of
kindness or praise for the splendid manner in which they rose to the
occasion, they got no active persecution, their services were far too
valuable for that. And as Frank felt day by day that every boy in the
half-deck was looking to him as their leader, he felt more and more of
the bone and sinew of manhood developing within him, and a fine pride
in himself came to help him live his life as it should be lived in
spite of all drawbacks.
And then came the fine weather with its opportunities for the skipper
and mate to work up the wastrels, an operation conducted with the
utmost ruthlessness as regards their work, although being under the
English flag there was no downright cruelty such as would have been
dealt out unstintedly in an American vessel. But the effect of this
working was most severe upon Frank. He was now recognised as third mate
tacitly, although never called “Mr.” or “Sir,” and had to supervise
the work which his watch were driven to do all day long, for except
the good hands, no one forward had any watch below. And the bo’sun’s
services were far too valuable in the direction of the rigger work to
make him just an overseer of labourers.
So Frank got no watch below in the daytime, he got no word of pleasant
intercourse from anybody, the men he was compelled to drive hated him
with a most virulent hatred, and he was fast degenerating into a mere
machine. Worst of all for himself, he felt he got no opportunity at
all to practise his navigation or add to his studies, and felt that
all he had learnt in the past was slipping away from him. There was
another point which he hardly admitted to himself, it seemed like some
grim spectre threatening him; he was actually beginning to dislike his
profession, which so short a time ago had seemed the one thing in the
world to him.
Mr. Wilson, the second mate, was also in parlous case, even worse than
Frank, for he had no such deep and enduring love of the sea as Frank
had to console him. But having worked his way so painfully upward as
far as his present position, it was a bitter reflection to him that he
was in the hands of a man who not only had it in his power to destroy
his career, but would do this diabolical act without compunction. There
are occasions, of course, when to stop a man from going farther in so
responsible a life as that of a sea-officer becomes a positive duty to
a conscientious man; but when some infernal kink in the brain leads
the man in power to abuse that power for the purpose of destroying the
career of his junior, who with a little encouragement would become an
entirely estimable officer, no words of mine could convey the horror
and detestation that I feel at such an act. Most happily, with the
passing away of the sailing ship that vile abuse of opportunity is
becoming less and less frequent in its incidence, and I hope will soon
finally disappear.
Under the incessant grind and constant supervision of the skipper, who,
if he spared nobody on board, certainly did not spare himself, the
noble _Thurifer_ gradually worked down to the region of the “roaring
forties” without any mishap, and this with a crew so drilled that the
majority of them could not knot a ropeyarn, and could not go aloft
and do something else besides hang on when they got there. It was a
triumph, and Captain Forrest’s grim face showed that he realised it to
the full as he strode to and fro on his spacious quarter-deck, nothing
escaping his keen eye. Yet it was strange that with these splendid
qualities so manifest in him he could not, or would not, recognise
merit in others, for even his chief officer and coadjutor was never
admitted to any terms of intimacy with him. He apparently preferred to
reign alone, unbendingly, an absolute monarch, who was self-satisfied,
self-contained, self-centred, who could command, and did so supremely
well, but had wilfully and deliberately crushed out of himself all the
finer feelings of humanity, and apparently would have subjected all who
came under him to the same stern rule of a loveless life.