“What a lark it would be!” she exclaimed, gleefully. “Do you think you will be able to persuade him? He is rather an obstinate little man.”
“The best way with obstinate people,” replied Osmond, “is to assume that they have agreed, and carry on. Can you steer—not that you need, being an officer. But you ought to know how to.”
“I can steer by the compass. But I don’t know much about the sails excepting that you have to keep the wind on the right side of them.”
“Yes, that is important with a square vessel. But you will soon learn the essentials—enough to enable you to keep the crew out of mischief. We will go on deck presently and then I will show you the ropes and explain how the gear works.”
“That will be jolly,” said she. “But there’s another thing that I want you to explain: about this mutiny, you know. Captain Hartup was awfully muddled about it. I want to know all that happened while I was locked in my berth.”
“I expect you know all about it now,” Osmond replied evasively. “There was a bit of a rumpus, of course, but as soon as Dhoody was overboard it was all plain sailing.”
“Now, you are not going to put me off like that,” she said, in a resolute tone. “I want the whole story in detail, if you please, sir. Does a second mate say ‘sir’ when he, or she, addresses the first mate?”
“Not as a rule,” Osmond replied, with a grin.
“Then I won’t. But I want the story. Now.” Osmond looked uneasily into the delicately fair, slightly freckled face and thought it, with its crown of red-gold hair, the prettiest face that he had ever seen. But it was an uncommonly determined little face, all the same.
“There really isn’t any story,” he began. But she interrupted sharply:
“Now listen to me. Yesterday there were seven ferocious men going about this ship like roaring and swearing lions. Today there are six meek and rather sleepy lambs—I saw them just before breakfast. It is you who have produced this miraculous change, and I want to know how you did it. No sketchy evasions, you know. I want a clear, intelligible narrative.”
“It isn’t a very suitable occasion for a long yarn,” he objected. “Don’t you think we ought to go on deck and keep an eye on the old man?”
“Perhaps we ought,” she agreed. “But I’m not going to let you off the story, you know. That is understood, isn’t it?”
He gave a reluctant assent, and when she had fetched her pith helmet from her cabin and he had borrowed a Panama hat of Redford’s, they ascended together to the deck.
The scene was reminiscent of ‘The Ancient Mariner.’ The blazing sun shone down on a sea that seemed to be composed of oil, so smooth and unruffled was its surface. The air was absolutely still, and the old brigantine wallowed foolishly as the great, glassy rollers swept under her, her sails alternately filling and backing with loud, explosive flaps as the masts swung from side to side, and her long main-boom banging across with a heavy jar at each roll. Sam Winter stood at the wheel in a posture of easy negligence (but he straightened up with a jerk as Osmond’s head rose out of the companion-hood); the rest of the crew, excepting Jim Darker, lounged about drowsily forward; and the skipper appeared to be doing sentry-go before a row of green gin-cases that were ranged along the side of the caboose. He looked round as the newcomers arrived on deck, and pointing to the cases, addressed Osmond.
“These boxes of poison belong to you, I understand. I can’t have them lying about here.”
“Better stow them in the lazarette when I’ve checked the contents,” replied Osmond.
“I can’t have intoxicating liquors in my lazarette. This is a temperance ship. I’ve a good mind to chuck ’em overboard.”
“All right,” said Osmond. “You pay me one pound four, and then you can do what you like with them.”
“Pay!” shrieked the captain. “I pay for this devil’s elixir! I traffic in strong drink that steals away men’s reason and turns them into fiends! Never! Not a farthing!”
“Very well,” said Osmond, “then they had better go below. Here, you, Simmons and Bradley, bear a hand with those cases. Will you see them stowed away in the lazarette, Miss Burleigh?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the latter replied, touching her helmet smartly; whereupon the two men, with delighted grins, pounced upon two of the cases, while Miss Burleigh edged up close to Osmond.
“What on earth is the lazarette?” she whispered, “and where shall I find it?”
“Under the cuddy floor,” he whispered in reply. “The trap is under the table.”
As the two seamen picked up their respective loads and went off beaming, followed by Miss Burleigh, the captain stood gazing open-mouthed. “Well, I’m—I’m—sure!” he exclaimed, at length. “What do you mean by giving orders to my crew? And I said I wouldn’t have that gin in my lazarette.”
“Can’t leave it about for the men to pinch. You’ll have them all drunk again. And what about the watches? We can’t have the regular port and starboard watches until you are fit again. Better do as I suggested. Let me keep on deck during the night, and you take charge during the day. Miss Burleigh can relieve you if you want to go below.”
“I’ll have no women playing the fool on my ship,” snapped the skipper; “but as to you, I don’t mind your staying on deck at night if you undertake to call me up when you get into a mess—as you certainly will.”
“Very well,” said Osmond, “we’ll leave it at that. And now you’d better come below and let me attend to your bandages. There’s nothing to do on deck while this calm lasts.”
The skipper complied, not unwillingly; and when Osmond had very gently and skilfully renewed the dressings and rebandaged the injured arm and head—the captain reclining in his bunk for the purpose—he retired, leaving his patient to rest awhile with the aid of the Commentary On the Book of Job.
As soon as he arrived on deck, he proceeded definitely to take charge. The stowage of the gin was now completed and the crew were once more collected forward, gossiping idly but evidently watchful and expectant of further developments from the ‘after-guard.’ Osmond hailed them in a masterful tone. “Here, you men, get a pull on the main-sheet and stop the boom from slamming. Haul her in as taut as she’ll go.”
The men came aft with ready cheerfulness, and as Osmond cast off the fall of the rope and gave them a lead, they tailed on and hauled with a will until the sheet-blocks were as close as they could be brought. Then, when the rope had been belayed, Osmond turned to the crew and briefly explained the arrangements for working the ship in her present, short-handed state.
“So you understand,” he concluded, “I am the mate for the time being, and Miss Burleigh is taking the duties of the second mate. Is that clear?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” was the reply, accompanied by the broadest of grins, “we understands, sir.”
“Who is the cook?” inquired Osmond.
“Bill Foat ’as been a-doin’ the cookin’, sir,” Simmons explained.
“Then
