be getting very different tucker at home," he said. "Still, it will be beastly cold and wet up there just now."
His merriment was evidently a trifle forced, and another lad who lay poring over a book in a corner raised his head.
"Oh, shut up!" he said. "We've heard all that before, and you don't do it very well. If I could get back into the shop the governor found me I'd like to catch myself going to sea. Oh, great handspikes! Just listen to the brute."
A storm of venomous language came forward from the poop, and through the drowsy flap of canvas and stillness of the dazzling ocean there rang the strident voice of the mate. Lawson slowly shook his head.
"She was scarcely steering, and Biddulph has let her fall off," he said. "They've stood a good deal forward, but that mate of ours is pushing them too far."
Then there was silence that seemed deepened by the light flap and rustle of sailcloth and gurgle of shining brine, but the peace of the day had gone, and the shadow which crept into the four young faces was that which has darkened so many lives at sea. They had all been used to discipline, and did not resent it, while it had been made evident to two of them of late that on board a sailing ship toil that is brutal as well as perilous is often a necessity. They would also have undertaken it more or less cheerfully, but there had been added to it a ruthless tyranny, and Appleby's little sigh seemed to ask the question that downtrodden men have asked from the beginning – why such things must be? And, for he was young, he could not find an answer.
A little breeze sprang up after sunset, and the ship was sliding faster through a sea that blazed about her with lights of green and gold when Appleby hung about the deck, held still and silent by something in the harmonies of the night. There was no moon, but there was also no cloud in the sky, and the great stars the mast-heads swayed across hung set far back one behind the other in the blue, while the spires of canvas towered black and sharp under their cold light. Not a cloth rustled, but there came down from the gossamer tracery of rigging a little musical humming that suggested the chanting of an invisible choir.
Forward a black figure was visible on the forecastle. Here and there another showed along the dusky line of bulwarks, and now and then Appleby could see the dark shape of the mate standing high upon the poop. This, however, was not often, because he preferred to keep the great shadowy mainsail between himself and it. Night and sea were still and peaceful, and that sinister figure alone jarred upon their serenity.
Suddenly the harsh voice he feared broke the silence, and Appleby instinctively set his lips when he saw his comrade cross the deck. It was noticeable that Niven went at a trot, and if he had been told that one side of the poop is usually sacred to the officer of the watch knowing that haste was advisable he forgot. A moment or two later he stood panting at the head of the ladder, which rose about six feet from the deck, and the mate strode towards him with arm drawn back. Possibly something had ruffled his temper, which was at the best a bad one, that night.
"There are two ladders to this poop, and this will teach you which is yours," he said.
Then before Niven could speak the arm shot out, and the breathless lad reeled backwards with head swimming and a tingling face. The blow had possibly not been a very cruel one, but the Aldebaran swung her stern up just then, and the opening in the rails was close behind him. He went out through it backwards, caught his foot on the rung of the ladder, and pitching over came down with a sickening thud on deck. Appleby, who had seen it all, ran aft and knelt down beside him.
"Chriss, are you hurt?" he gasped.
There was no answer, and hearing a rattle on the ladder the lad looked up, and saw the mate standing close by. He had his hands in his pockets, but there was an unpleasant look in his face.
"Shamming. Take him forward," he said, and stooped as though about to shake the lad who still lay motionless.
He, however, straightened himself as Appleby rose up, and stood before him, quivering, with hand clenched and a blaze in his eyes.
"Get back! You have done enough," he said, and if Niven could have heard it he would scarcely have recognized his comrade's voice.
"Hello!" the mate said sharply. "Were you talking to me?"
"Yes," said Appleby hoarsely, but very quietly. "And I have a little more to tell you. You can't do these things with impunity, and we'll have you kicked out of the Company for this."
It was not, of course, a judicious speech, but Appleby was scarcely in a state to decide what was most fitting then. The mate moved a pace nearer him, and his hands were out of his pockets now, but he stopped close by Appleby, for the lad stood stiffly upright, his face grey with passion.
"I'll make you sorry. Get him out of this," he said.
Then Niven raised himself a little, and blinked dizzily at both of them. "I think I could get up if you helped me, Tom," he said.
Appleby shivered a little as he saw the red smear on the back of his head, but before he moved an elderly man with a sour face and grizzled hair came down the ladder and stopped in front of them. He glanced at Niven and then at Appleby, but it is probable that a scene of the kind was not quite new to him, and his face was expressionless.
"Well, what's it all about?" he said.
Appleby had but once or twice spoken to the captain, who was a grim, silent man, and not seen very often in fine weather. Whether he was contented with the mate's conduct was not apparent, but as usual it was the latter who handled the ship's company.
"You had better ask the mate, sir," said Appleby. "He knocked him down the ladder."
The skipper turned towards the other man, and the mate laughed a little.
"That's not quite right, sir," he said. "The lad can't take telling, and he came up the wrong ladder when I sang out for him. I guessed it was done out of impudence, and let him have it so it wouldn't hurt him much with the flat of my hand. She gave a lurch just then that threw him off his feet and down he went. Then this one began a rumpus, and told me he'll have me run out of the service."
The skipper stooped over Niven. "Head's cut – at the back," he said in an expressionless voice. "Get up, and go aft, my lad. I'll fix it for you."
Niven rose shakily, and obeying the skipper's pointing hand walked towards the poop with uneven steps. Then the latter looked at Appleby.
"What did he mean by that?" he said quietly.
Appleby understood the question, and though he fancied he was doing wisely made a blunder. "I think I can do all I told him, sir," he said. "You see, this ship is carrying Mr. Niven's goods, and one could fancy the Company is glad to get them."
"Niven?" said the skipper, more to himself than the others. "Most of the freight belongs to Clarke and Hall."
"They're dead," said Appleby, who had been told this. "There's only Mr. Niven in the business now."
The skipper looked thoughtful. "Now I remember," he said as he turned towards the mate, and stopped. "Well, this is my affair, Appleby, and I'm the only man who can question what the mate does on board this ship. If you do it again it will be the worse for you. Remember that."
Appleby touched his cap and moved away, and presently Niven came forward from the poop with his head tied up. He was still pale, and moved slowly, while he had little to tell his comrade.
"He put some stuff that smarted on the cut, but didn't ask any questions, and told me to lie down," he said. "I'm going
