usly. In the morning
a sea smashed one of the galley doors. We dashed in through lots of
steam and found the cook very wet and indignant with the ship:--"She's
getting worse every day. She's trying to drown me in front of my own
stove!" He was very angry. We pacified him, and the carpenter, though
washed away twice from there, managed to repair the door. Through that
accident our dinner was not ready till late, but it didn't matter in the
end because Knowles, who went to fetch it, got knocked down by a sea and
the dinner went over the side. Captain Allistoun, looking more hard and
thin-lipped than ever, hung on to full topsails and foresail, and would
not notice that the ship, asked to do too much, appeared to lose heart
altogether for the first time since we knew her. She refused to rise,
and bored her way sullenly through the seas. Twice running, as though
she had been blind or weary of life, she put her nose deliberately
into a big wave and swept the decks from end to end. As the boatswain
observed with marked annoyance, while we were splashing about in a body
to try and save a worthless wash-tub:--"Every blooming thing in the
ship is going overboard this afternoon." Venerable Singleton broke
his habitual silence and said with a glance aloft:--"The old man's in a
temper with the weather, but it's no good bein' angry with the winds
of heaven." Jimmy had shut his door, of course. We knew he was dry and
comfortable within his little cabin, and in our absurd way were pleased
one moment, exasperated the next, by that certitude. Donkin skulked
shamelessly, uneasy and miserable. He grumbled:--"I'm perishin' with cold
outside in bloomin' wet rags, an' that 'ere black sojer sits dry on a
blamed chest full of bloomin' clothes; blank his black soul!" We took no
notice of him; we hardly gave a thought to Jimmy and his bosom friend.
There was no leisure for idle probing of hearts. Sails blew adrift.
Things broke loose. Cold and wet, we were washed about the deck while
trying to repair damages. The ship tossed about, shaken furiously,
like a toy in the hand of a lunatic. Just at sunset there was a rush to
shorten sail before the menace of a sombre hail cloud. The hard gust
of wind came brutal like the blow of a fist. The ship relieved of her
canvas in time received it pluckily: she yielded reluctantly to the
violent onset; then coming up with a stately and irresistible motion,
brought her spars to windward in the teeth of the screec