All the time, and spurring him to the more attention, song, loud talk,
fleering laughter and the occasional popping of a cork, reached his ears
from the interior of the house; and when the port watch was relieved
at midnight, Huish and the captain appeared upon the quarter-deck with
flushed faces and uneven steps, the former laden with bottles, the
latter with two tin mugs. Herrick silently passed them by. They hailed
him in thick voices, he made no answer, they cursed him for a churl,
he paid no heed although his belly quivered with disgust and rage. He
closed-to the door of the house behind him, and cast himself on a locker
in the cabin--not to sleep he thought--rather to think and to despair.
Yet he had scarce turned twice on his uneasy bed, before a drunken voice
hailed him in the ear, and he must go on deck again to stand the morning
watch.
The first evening set the model for those that were to follow. Two cases
of champagne scarce lasted the four-and-twenty hours, and almost the
whole was drunk by Huish and the captain. Huish seemed to thrive on the
excess; he was never sober, yet never wholly tipsy; the food and the sea
air had soon healed him of his disease, and he began to lay on flesh.
But with Davis things went worse. In the drooping, unbuttoned figure
that sprawled all day upon the lockers, tippling and reading novels;
in the fool who made of the evening watch a public carouse on the
quarter-deck, it would have been hard to recognise the vigorous seaman
of Papeete roads. He kept himself reasonably well in hand till he had
taken the sun and yawned and blotted through his calculations; but from
the moment he rolled up the chart, his hours were passed in slavish
self-indulgence or in hoggish slumber. Every other branch of his duty
was neglected, except maintaining a stern discipline about the dinner
table. Again and again Herrick would hear the cook called aft, and see
him running with fresh tins, or carrying away again a meal that had been
totally condemned. And the more the captain became sunk in drunkenness,
the more delicate his palate showed itself. Once, in the forenoon, he
had a bo'sun's chair rigged over the rail, stripped to his trousers,
and went overboard with a pot of paint. 'I don't like the way this
schooner's painted,' said he, 'and I've taken a down upon her name.' But
he tired of it in half an hour, and the schooner went on her way with
an incongruous patch of colour on the stern, and the word Farallone part
obliterated and part looking through. He refused to stand either the
middle or the morning watch. It was fine-weather sailing, he said;
and asked, with a laugh, 'Who ever heard of the old man standing watch
himself?' To the dead reckoning which Herrick still tried to keep, he
would pay not the least attention nor afford the least assistance.
'What do we want of dead reckoning?' he asked. 'We get the sun all
right, don't we?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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