Sailors, like other mortals, are as jealous of their little rights and privileges as any of us ashore. To stand a trick at the wheel in regular turn, to see that everyone stood his lawful share of this duty, was a strong incentive to silence on the part of those who were wise to the fact that Kahemuku and Black Joe knew nothing about steering. They could not box the compass, and in fact knew nothing about the action of the helm or the use of the wheel. Black Joe stood a trick nevertheless between Australia and Fred, and Ivahemuku followed Fred and was relieved in turn by able seaman Brenden. That these three worthies, Australia, Fred and Brenden, knew about the Kanaka's lack of proficiency was proven by the fact that they always passed the course over the head of the Kanaka to the man following. For the first few days out of port the steering was easy. The wind held on the port quarter and the sea was smooth. It also happened that the blacks had their tricks during the day watches while the captain slumbered. The mate, as was his custom, seldom bothered with the course during the day, devoting all of his energy to directing the work on deck. On the third day out Australia went to the wheel in the first night watch and at four bells Black Joe headed aft to assume complete charge of the steering, being shunted on his way by watchful shipmates. Presently a terrible commotion aloft startled us, we were brought by the lee with a slamming and slatting like thunder. Mr. Zerk jumped to the break of the poop and started to bawl orders. "Hard up, hell_um_! Weather fore braces! _Lively there!_" Everything was shaking, with the yards pointing into the wind, and the ship started to roll. "How do you head?" There was no response. "How do you head, _damn you_!" Forward we were swinging the head yards, and she started to box off, while aft a secondary commotion centered about the wheelhouse, with Captain Nichols acting the part of Satan, in yellow silk pajamas, and Black Joe performing duty as the Butt of All Evil. "What are you steering?" roared the captain. "_Mr. Zerk!_" never had we heard him so sharp before. The mate was already aft, and to change the course of wrath, he grabbed Joe and tossed him headlong out on the deck, holding the wheel himself while he added to the din. "Lay aft! Lay aft, _a man!_" Frenchy responded. In a few more moments we were back on the course again and the captain held a drumhead court at the break of the poop. "Keep those black monkeys forward," he ordered, "and don't let this happen again. By God, sir, these waters are full of coral reefs, and I have got to hold my course, sir," he added, turning to the mate.