At 4.30 yesterday, after pumping, I had yet another conversation with the doughty Scot. “Have ye taken notice of the way the mate’s slacked up on the men?” he asked; “that’s a bad sign, now. Here’s this man cut; before ye’ll remember how he used to shout and charge around the decks. What do ye hear from him now? Nothin’ at all. I haven’t heard him raise his voice to one o’ the men since Wednesday night. Why? ’Cause he’s scared. He’s in a funk; and I have the task o’ keepin’ the ship in order forrad. One o’ them, Tim, was goin’ to get ugly this forenoon; but I turned on him sharp and says, ‘See here, now, drop that; you’ve laid one man out, haven’t you? You have; but I’m d---- if you’re goin’ to lay me out,’ says I, and that settled it for the time. Who’ve I got to depend on if they do break out? The mate’s no good, and t’other bosun’s only a child. When Mr. Rarx gets up again you’ll see some fireworks. Did ye ever hear anythin’ about Cap’n Slocum in the ‘D. G. Tillie’? He’s another hard nut. I was comin’ around in her once from Baltimore, bound to ’Frisco with a load o’ coal. One o’ the men forgot to say ‘sir’ to the second mate one day in a hard squall; so Slocum clapped the irons on him, and then near beat the life out of him with a fid. This little bit o’ fun, though, I heard cost him near two thousand dollars. I’ll tell ye the ships you’d ought to sail in if ye make another voyage,--one of the Loch Line; they’re grand ships, and run like men-o’-war; I’ve been in them, and they’re the best that sails the seas.”