The men pressed three deep abreast of the mainmast and opposite the cabin-door. They shuffled, pushed, had an irresolute mien and stolid faces. At every slight movement Knowles lurched heavily on his short leg. Donkin glided behind backs, restless and anxious, like a man looking for an ambush. Captain Allistoun came out suddenly. He walked to and fro before the front. He was grey, slight, alert, shabby in the sunshine, and as hard as adamant. He had his right hand in the side-pocket of his jacket, and also something heavy in there that made folds all down that side. One of the seamen cleared his throat ominously. -- ‘I haven't till now found fault with you men,’ said the master, stopping short. He faced them with his worn, steely gaze, that by an universal illusion looked straight into every individual pair of the twenty pairs of eyes before his face. At his back, Mr. baker, bloomy and bull-necked, grunted low; Mr. Creighton, fresh as paint, had rosy cheeks and a ready, resolute bearing. ‘And I don't now,’ continued the master; ‘but I am here to drive this ship and keep every man-jack aboard of her up to the mark. If you knew your work as well as I do mine, there would be no trouble. You've been braying in the dark about "See to-morrow morning!"Well, you see me now. What do you want?’ He waited, stepping quickly to and fro, giving them searching glances. What did they want?
Jimmy was forgotten; no one thought of him, alone forward in his cabin, fighting great shadows, clinging to brazen lies, chuckling painfully over his transparent deceptions. No, not Jimmy; he was more forgotten than if he had been dead. They wanted great things. And suddenly all the ****** words they knew seemed to be lost for ever Page 99in the immensity of their vague and burning desire. They knew what they wanted, but they could not find anything worth saying. They stirred on one spot, swinging, at the end of muscular arms, big tarry hands with crooked fingers. A murmur died out. -- ‘What is it -- food?’asked the master, ‘you know the stores had been spoiled off the Cape.’ -- ‘We know that, sir,’ said a bearded shell-back in the front rank -- ‘Work too hard -- eh? Too much for your strength?’ he asked again. There was an offended silence.
-- ‘We don't want to go shorthanded, sir,’ began at last Davies in a wavering voice, ‘and this 'ere black -- ....
’ -- ‘Enough!’ cried the master. He stood scanning them for a moment, then walking a few steps this way and that began to storm at them coldly, in gusts violent and cutting like the gales of those icy seas that had known his youth. -- ‘Tell you what's the matter? Too big for your boots. Think yourselves damn good men. Know half your work. Do half your duty. Think it too much. If you did ten times as much it wouldn't be enough.’ -- ‘We did our best by her, sir,’ cried some one with shaky exasperation. -- ‘Your best,’ stormed on the master; ‘You here a lot on shore, don't you? They don't tell you there your best isn't much to boast of.
I tell you -- your best is no better than bad. You can do no more? No, I know, and say nothing. But you stop your caper or I will stop it for you! Stop it!’ He shook a finger at the crowd. ‘As to that man,’ he raised his voice very much; ‘as to that man, if he puts his nose out on deck without my leave I will clap him in irons. There!’ The cook heard him forward, ran out of the galley lifting his arms, horrified, unbelieving, amazed, and ran in again. There was a moment of profound silence during which a bow-legged seaman, stepping aside, expectorated decorously into the scupper. ‘There is another thing,’ said the master calmly. He made a quick stride and with a swing took an iron belaying-pin out of his pocket. ‘This!’His movement was so unexpected and sudden that the crowd stepped back.