“It’s foul,” I told him, “it smells and bad though it be, there is not enough served out. The sick are calling for water and not a drop to be got.” “Not enough served out--what do you mean?” “That the allowance is scrimped.” He clinched his fist and raised his right arm as if to strike me. “This to me, on my own ship; that passengers are cheated in measure!” “Strike me, captain, if you will, but by our common faith I implore you to consider the case of my poor people. There are children who have died from starvation and they have been dropped into the sea. There are more dying and you can save them by ordering a larger ration of sound biscuit. There are men and women lying stretched in the fever, will you not ease their agony by letting them have all the water they can drink? They have suffered everything flesh and blood can suffer short of death. In fleeing from the famine in Ireland, do not let it be said they have found harder hearts and a worse fate on board ship. When you know a cup of water and a bite will save life and will make hundreds happy, sure, captain, you will not refuse to give them.” “You vagabond,” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing with anger, “if you insinuate I am starving anybody I will pitch you overboard. The passengers get all the government regulations allow them and more they shan’t have. Begone, sir, and do not dare to come on the poop again.” “One word, captain. I have been told you have a wife and children. For their sweet sake, have pity on the little ones and the women on board.” “Do you hear me?” he shouted. “Leave the poop or I will kick you off. I’ll have no mutiny on my ship.” I turned and left more sorrowful at my failure than indignant at my usage. My appeal did some good, however, for before the day was over wind-sails were rigged at the hatchways, which did a little to freshen the air ’tween decks. A sail ahead hove in sight during the afternoon, and we rapidly gained on her. At six o’clock we were abreast of the stranger, which was not over half a mile away. She was a small barque and had lost her foretopmast during the gale. She signalled us, but our captain took no notice, and we soon left her a long way astern. Asking the boatswain why she wanted to speak us, he said she likely was short of sails and spars to repair her damage and wanted to get them from us. “And why did the captain not help her?” The boatswain smiled. “They cost money and supplying them would have delayed us.” I had my own thoughts about the sailor who would not give a helping hand to his brother when overtaken by misfortune. If that ship be lost for lack of spar or sail, then that little tyrant who struts our quarter-deck is accountable.