The distance run since the departure was read off the log by the binnacle light and entered on the slate.
"Ready about," said the captain. "Give me the wheel, White Man, and you stand by the mainsheet. Boom tackle, Mr. Hay, please, and then you can jump forward and attend head sails."
"Hard a-lee!" cried the captain. "Haul in your slack as she comes," he called to Huish. "Haul in your slack, put your back into it; keep your feet out of the coils." A sudden blow sent Huish flat along the deck, and the captain was in his place. "Pick yourself up and keep the wheel hard over!" he roared. "You wooden fool, you wanted to get killed, I guess. Draw the jib," he cried a moment later; and then to Huish, "Give me the wheel again, and see if you can coil that sheet."
But Huish stood and looked at Davis with an evil countenance. "Do you know you struck me?" said he.
"Do you know I saved your life?" returned the other, not deigning to look at him, his eyes travelling instead between the compass and the sails. "Where would you have been if that boom had swung out and you bundled in the slack? No, _sir_, we'll have no more of you at the mainsheet. Seaport towns are full of mainsheet-men; they hop upon one leg, my son, what's left of them, and the rest are dead. (Set your boom tackle, Mr. Hay.) Struck you, did I? Lucky for you I did."
"Well," said Huish slowly, "I dessay there may be somethink in that. 'Ope there is." He turned his back elaborately on the captain, and entered the house, where the speedy explosion of a champagne cork showed he was attending to his comfort.
Herrick came aft to the captain. "How is she doing now?" he asked.
"East and by no'the a half no'the," said Davis. "It's about as good as I expected."
"What'll the hands think of it?" said Herrick.
"O, they don't think. They ain't paid to," says the captain.
"There was something wrong, was there not? between you and--" Herrick paused.
"That's a nasty little beast; that's a biter," replied the captain, shaking his head. "But so long as you and me hang in, it don't matter."
Herrick lay down in the weather alleyway; the night was cloudless, the movement of the ship cradled him, he was oppressed besides by the first generous meal after so long a time of famine; and he was recalled from deep sleep by the voice of Davis singing out: "Eight bells!"
