England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; River life -- Fiction; Sea stories, English
“Well, I went down below, and called up the first mate, and as soon as
I’d explained to him what he was wanted for, he went right off into a
fit of outrageous bad language, an’ hit me. He came right up on deck in
his pants an’ socks. A most disrespekful way to come to the cap’n, but
he was that hot and excited he didn’t care what he did.
“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses the cap’n gravely, ‘I’ve just had a most solemn
warning, and I want to—’
“‘I know,’ says the mate gruffly.
“‘What! have you heard it too?’ ses the cap’n, in surprise. ‘Three
times?’ “I heard it from him,’ ses the mate, pointing to me.
‘Nightmare, sir, nightmare.’
“‘It was not nightmare, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very huffy, ‘an if I hear
it again, I’m going to alter this ship’s course.’
“Well, the fust mate was in a hole. He wanted to call the skipper
something which he knew wasn’t discipline. I knew what it was, an’ I
knew if the mate didn’t do something he’d be ill, he was that sort of
man, everything flew to his head. He walked away, and put his head over
the side for a bit, an’ at last, when he came back, he was,
comparatively speaking, calm.
“‘You mustn’t hear them words again, sir,’ ses he; ‘don’t go to sleep
again to-night. Stay up, an’ we’ll have a hand o’ cards, and in the
morning you take a good stiff dose o’ rhoobarb. Don’t spoil one o’ the
best trips we’ve ever had for the sake of a pennyworth of rhoobarb,’
ses he, pleading-like.
“‘Mr. Salmon,’ ses the cap’n, very angry, ‘I shall not fly in the face
o’ Providence in any such way. I shall sleep as usual, an’ as for your
rhoobarb,’ ses the cap’n, working hisself up into a passion—’damme,
sir, I’ll—I’ll dose the whole crew with it, from first mate to
cabin-boy, if I have any impertinence.’
“Well, Mr. Salmon, who was getting very mad, stalks down below,
followed by the cap’n, an’ Mr. McMillan was that excited that he even
started talking to me about it. Half-an-hour arterwards the cap’n comes
running up on deck again.
“‘Mr. McMillan,’ ses he excitedly, ‘steer nor’-nor’-west until further
orders. I’ve heard it again, an’ this time it nearly split the drum of
my ear.’
“The ship’s course was altered, an’ after the old man was satisfied he
went back to bed again, an’ almost directly arter eight bells went, an’
I was relieved. I wasn’t on deck when the fust mate come up, but those
that were said he took it very calm. He didn’t say a word. He just sat
down on the poop, and blew his cheeks out.
“As soon as ever it was daylight the skipper was on deck with his
glasses. He sent men up to the masthead to keep a good look-out, an’ he
was dancing about like a cat on hot bricks all the morning.
“‘How long are we to go on this course, sir?’ asks Mr. Salmon, about
ten o’clock in the morning.
“‘I’ve not made up my mind, sir,’ ses the cap’n, very stately; but I
could see he was looking a trifle foolish.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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