got the cook to bring me a
coffee-cup to hold the small screws as I took them out, and a
saucer for the sperm-oil I was going to use. I noticed that he
didn't go away, but hung round without exactly watching what I
was doing, as if he wanted to say something to me. I thought if
it were worth much he would say it anyhow, so I didn't ask him
questions; and sure enough he began of his own accord before
long. There was nobody on deck but the man at the wheel, and the
other man away forward.

"Mr. Torkeldsen," the cook began, and then stopped.

I supposed he was going to ask me to let the watch break out a
barrel of flour, or some salt horse.

"Well, doctor?" I asked, as he didn't go on.

"Well, Mr. Torkeldsen," he answered, "I somehow want to ask you
whether you think I am giving satisfaction on this ship, or not?"

"So far as I know, you are, doctor. I haven't heard any
complaints from the forecastle, and the captain has said nothing,
and I think you know your business, and the cabin-boy is bursting
out of his clothes. That looks as if you are giving satisfaction.
What makes you think you are not?"

I am not good at giving you that West Indies talk, and sha'n't
try; but the doctor beat about the bush awhile, and then he told
me he thought the men were beginning to play tricks on him, and
he didn't like it, and thought he hadn't deserved it, and would
like his discharge at our next port. I told him he was a d----d
fool, of course, to begin with; and that men were more apt to try
a joke with a chap they liked than with anybody they wanted to
get rid of; unless it was a bad joke, like flooding his bunk, or
filling his boots with tar. But it wasn't that kind of practical
joke. The doctor said that the men were trying to frighten him,
and he didn't like it, and that they put things in his way that
frightened him. So I told him he was a d----d fool to be
frightened, anyway, and I wanted to know what things they put in
his way. He gave me a queer answer. He said they were spoons and
forks, and odd plates, and a cup now and then, and such things.

I set down the taffrail-log on the bit of canvas I had put under
it, and looked at the doctor. He was uneasy, and his eyes had a
sort of hunted look, and his yellow face looked grey. He wasn't
trying to make trouble. He was in trouble. So I asked him
questions.

He said he could count as well as anybody, and do sums without
using his fingers, but that when he couldn't count a