The Countess of Warwick had drifted off during the night and was a good two miles away to the eastward when the hot equatorial sun burned his way into a mass of heavy clouds upon the horizon the day after we caught the turtle. Lumpy masses of cumuli lined the horizon, and solid quadrilaterals, slanting with well-defined edges, reached from them to the sea beneath, showing that we might expect the tropical rainpour. Now and then a slight air ruffled the surface of the ocean, but it came from almost anywhere, and we made no headway on our course. I could see that Garnett had clewed up his courses on the Warwick to keep his heavy canvas from slatting out with the rolling of his ship, and O’Toole had done our own up in a similar manner. The hot, damp air of the early morning was fresh with the salt dew, and the decks and rails were streaming with the moisture. Sounds from forward were heard distinctly, and even the low voices of men conversing in the forecastle were carried aft. The clatter of pans and pots in the galley told of a busy “moke,” but the weather was too warm for any great appetite. I had slept badly and was in no good humour, so with great perseverance I kept clear of the main-deck to avoid trouble. At that time in the morning a ship’s officer is hardly more than human, and a man in my condition is generally a little less. I stood upon the break of the poop and watched O’Toole sitting upon the main hatch smoking a short pipe. He was in his undershirt and was very warm.

“’Tis a bit warm, or I’d lick th’ whole av th’ ship’s company,” said he to a Dutchman, who strolled past toward the galley for his watch’s breakfast.

“Vat I do, I do noddings, sur,” said the fellow, edging away.

“Och, ’tis fer that alone I’d whale ye, Dootch. Kape away from me, fer I’m th’ divil while this weather lasts. Git.”

“Good marnin’, Mr. Gore,” he continued, without taking his pipe from his mouth, “I’m havin’ steak an’ eggs fer th’ order, an’ may ye enjoy yer vittles. ’Twas a foine burd, that baste ye caught, fer within him ware no less than a hundred eggs. If ye want to take a slice av him over to Garnett an’ that Captain Webster, ’tis all ready fer ye. I’m clane homesick fer a bit av pig, an’ ’twill be a good deal if ye can make a trade. ’Tis uncommon warm.”

“O’Toole,” said I, “you’re a big, red-headed, ugly ruffian, and you’ve that to be thankful for. If you were anything else, I’d come down off this poop and knock the insolence out of you. If you want that pig, you go after it yourself, and don’t you go giving me instructions.”

The second mate grinned.

“’Twas no offence I meant, sir, but, sink me, if ye want ter try a small bit av a dispute, I’ll accommodate ye, sure,” and he rolled up a sleeve, showing an arm of power.

I knew he had been thinking of how I’d go in the small boat with Miss Waters, and it was none of his business. That and the hot morning made me quarrelsome. At the same time I had no intention of coming down off the quarter-deck, at least at his invitation. The steward was bringing the breakfast aft, and I had a means of evading the issue.

“You think too much and work too little, O’Toole,” I said, starting for the forward cabin in the wake of the meal.

“Go to th’ divil,” said the officer, and he whisked a match along the seat of his trousers and relit his pipe.

Brown had shaved and looked clean when he appeared at the table. I felt he had no business there, for it is always the third mate’s place to eat with the carpenter, steward, and the rest. I never like special arrangements for officers with a pull. The two ladies and Captain Crojack came in from the after cabin, Miss Waters dressed in a white muslin frock which fitted her splendid figure and made her bare arms and throat look all the whiter. Crojack had put on a clean duck suit, and took his seat with a quizzical look along his table.

“It’s a good thing to have passengers aboard ship at times,” said he, “for it calls forth the razor and brush. I remember the time when I could hardly tell who was who aboard this ship, for the matted hair and beards which hid the faces of the mates. That steak looks good. It won’t hurt you to eat as much as you can. The ‘doctor’ boiled a piece of silver with a chunk of the turtle meat, and it was as bright as glass after he was through. Turns black—jet-black—if the fish or turtle meat is poisonous. I’ve eaten dolphin boiled with a silver dollar and had it blacken. It broke out in boils all over me within two days.”

“The dollar?” I asked, with some concern.

Crojack looked at me askance. He was not aware of my humour, but was a bit suspicious.

“No, the dolphin,” he said, slowly.

Miss Waters smiled, but Brown looked hard into his plate.

“I once knew a man,” I ventured, “who had figures of women—and ships—all over his body. They were tattooed on him, to be sure, but I don’t quite call to mind ever having seen a man with ‘dolphins.’”

“There are so many things a young fellow of your age hasn’t seen, it would tire one out to tell of them,” said the skipper, good-humouredly. “Better have another piece of turtle.”

I took it and ate doggedly, while the old man held forth upon the evils of fresh pork in the tropics.

However, in spite of the heat and mugginess of the air, Miss Waters managed to get her own way. Crojack allowed her to go with the boat to the Countess of Warwick. The English ship lay motionless and at a distance which put the skipper in a better humour. He would not go himself, especially after seeing what manner of man her captain had shown himself, but I went with two men and Miss Waters, taking half the turtle along with us, some old American papers and magazines, and some bottled beer.

“This is like yachting,” I said, as I settled myself in the stern-sheets and made the young lady comfortable. “If going to sea would only consist of this sort of thing it would not be so intolerably lonesome and monotonous.”

“I suppose I should feel flattered, but I’m at present more interested in the English ship,” said Miss Waters. “Do you think the little skipper will allow us aboard?”

“He made it a point not to invite you, surely,” I answered. I was in no very good humour even yet, and the girl deplored it.

The row across the intervening space of ocean was made rapidly, for the sea being perfectly smooth, the small boat, propelled by two strong men, sheared its way easily through the surface. The sun rose higher above our heads and the heat was intolerable.

Arriving alongside, I saw Garnett leaning over the rail amidships, gazing down at us. He was joined by half the watch, and then he pulled out his little vial and sniffed at it hard while he mopped his bald head.

“Now that’s what I call sailorizing, fer a fact,” said he. “Sink me, Mr. Gore, but that’s the way all mates should go about, with a trim little tender alongside. What have ye got? Beef? Beer? I’ll call the old man—wait.”

“Hold on,” I cried, “wait until I—”

But it was too late, the old mate had gone aft, and in a moment he was calling down the cabin companionway to his master.

“I hev to report a small boat alongside, sir,” said Garnett, in a loud tone, sticking his head under the slide of the hatchway. Captain Webster was evidently dozing, for he made no answer at once. Then the mate repeated the hail.

“Boat alongside? Tell him to get away at once,” came the voice, now aroused. “What does he mean by coming alongside? Who is it, that Yankee?”

“’Tis the mate an’ a young lady, an’ they’ve got some beer, bull-beef, an’ a lot o’ papers fer you, sir.”

“Get that accommodation ladder over the side, Mr. Garnett, and ask the lady aboard. Don’t keep her waiting,—jump, or I’ll come on deck myself.”