The second lieutenant, overseeing this latter, paced the port quarter-deck and answered remarks from Captain Bunce, who paced the sacred starboard side (the brig being at anchor) and occasionally turned his glass on the dilapidated craft down the beach.
"Seems to me, Mr. Shack," he said across the deck, "that an owner who would send that bark around the Horn, and the master who would take her, ought to be sequestered and cared for, either in an asylum or in jail."
"Yes, sir, I think so too," answered the second lieutenant, looking aloft. "Might be an insurance job. Clear away that bunt-gasket on the royal-yard," he added in a roar.
Captain Bunce--round, rosy, with brilliant mutton-chop whiskers--muttered: "Insurance--wrecked intentionally--no, not here where we are; wouldn't court investigation by her Majesty's officers." He rolled forward, then aft, and looked again through the glass.
"Very large crew--very large," he said; "very curious, Mr. Shack."
A hail from the forecastle, announcing that the anchor was short, prevented Mr. Shack's answering. Captain Bunce waved a deprecatory hand to the first lieutenant, who came aft at once, while Mr. Shack descended to the waist, and the boatswain ascended the forecastle steps to attend to the anchor. The first lieutenant now had charge of the brig, and from the quarter-deck gave his orders to the crew, while Captain Bunce busied himself with his glass and his thoughts.
Fore-and-aft sail was set and head-sheets trimmed down to port, square sails were dropped, sheeted home, and hoisted, foreyards braced to port, the anchor tripped and fished, and the brig paid off from the land-breeze, and, with foreyards swung, steadied down to a course for the entrance.
"Mr. Duncan," said the captain, "there are fully forty men on that bark's deck, all dressed alike--all in red shirts and knitted caps--and all dancing around like madmen. Look!" He handed the glass to the first lieutenant, who brought it to bear.
"Strange," said the officer, after a short scrutiny; "there were only a few showing when we spoke her outside. It looks as though they were all drunk."
As they drew near, sounds of singing--uproarious discord--reached them, and soon they could see with the naked eye that the men on the bark were wrestling, dancing, and running about.