There was no earthly use of disagreeing with him, so I said nothing, knowing full well he had overloaded his vessel by three or four hundred tons in order to make the extra freight money. In a short time Mr. Brown came aft and, after greeting the passengers, told me that the second mate wished to see me, as he had mustered the crew on the deck in the waist. I left the quarter with the skipper in charge, and went forward to where O’Toole had all hands lined up to divide into watches. “Ha!” he cried, “Mr. Gore, but we’ve got some foine burds t’ choose from this voyage. By th’ sowl av St. Patrick, I niver seen sich a set o’ mugs nayther before nor since. Which wan will ye choose for the first man? How would that mollyhawk-looking Scandinavian suit yer eye, ey?” “None of your land-shark tricks on me. I know a man as well as you,” I replied, sharply, but he caught the expression of my eye and he showed his teeth in a broad grin. He had a great, freckled, hairless face, this O’Toole. So saying, I picked out a stout, heavy-shouldered young German, who was the most active and intelligent-looking man in the crowd. O’Toole followed by picking out a powerful young Swede, and I then motioned for a dago to join me. We kept it up until I had eleven and he twelve men, for, as I had the third mate, it was better that the loss of our deserter should fall on my watch. The carpenter, cook, and Chinese steward made up the rest of the ship’s company. After making a short address to the men and giving all hands a glass of grog, I dismissed them and told off my watch, the port, for the first after eight bells that evening. O’Toole, however, called his men into the starboard gangway and addressed them according to his own ideas of what became a second officer. “Now I jist want to hint to ye, so t’ spake,” he began, “that fer a set av windjammers, ye air a bloomin’, ill-favoured lot o’ sons o’ Belial. But all ye’ve got t’ do is t’ jump whin I gives the whurd or I’ll knock the divil and damnation thunder out o’ ye quicker ’n old Nick can scorch a feather, d’ye see? “I don’t want no foolin’ nor shirkin’, an’ mum’s the whurd. Ef ye can’t understand English, yer got yerselves into a mighty unhealthy ship, fer I only spake ter onct. Ef yer do yer duty, I’ll be as tinder an’ aisy with ye as yer swatehearts, but ef ye don’t, by the howly, jumping Jezebel, I’ll bear down on yer, an’ thin stand from under.” Then, cursing them individually and collectively, he sent them forward and retired to his own room in the side of the forward cabin. On going aft again I found the skipper explaining some nautical matters to Mr. Brown in such a contemptuous tone that it was evident the old man didn’t believe in young men starting out as sailors with access to the quarter-deck.