At the beginning of the passage he sat down at the table in the forward cabin to perform this part of his duty, and the captain coming from his spacious after-cabin found him there at work. Upon seeing him he drew himself up, and in a pompous way said: "Mr. Morrison, I want you to understand that my cabin table isn't a writing desk for officers." "Oh, indeed," said the mate. "I've always been accustomed to have the use of it even for my private writing, and I had no idea you would object to my writing the ship's log here." "You must learn you ai'n't aboard one of your lime-juice ships now," was the courteous response, and the mate retired to his room, his Scotch pride and temper almost overcoming his desire to respect the captain. But the second mate was a man after the captain's own heart. It was only necessary to show him the way to the captain's good graces, and his subservience joined to his own brutal passions made him an earnest disciple. The crew were a pretty independent and saucy set of negroes, and required a strict hand to keep them under. From the very first there had been almost daily little difficulties, and at one time at City Point a general knock-down was only prevented by the mate's interfering between the second mate and a sailor, to the great wrath of the former. A few days after leaving the Chesapeake, Mr. Howard was going around the deck at about half-past four in the morning, and found a man called Brooks sitting down and nodding. He awakened him very suddenly by raising him up by the ears, and then set the whole watch to work bracing the yards "in" a little. The men were sleepy, and cross at this "humbugging," for they knew the wind had not altered at all, and this was merely a "work up job." They were not very prompt with their Aye, aye, sir. "Haul in the top-gallant-brace" said the officer. No answer followed, but he saw the order was obeyed. "Belay!" Still no answer. "Sing out," said he; "if you don't open your gills I'll slaughter you. Haul in the royal-brace!" No answer.