Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 2).djvu/374

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376
The Strand Magazine.

to his chief mate, that there gent as you see for'rads. The ship was to sail home in charge of Mr. Wilson; but the port authorities says 'No; Mr. Wilson don't hold a certificate as master.' The ship couldn't be cleared till a proper master was had. I was asked to navigate the vessel home, and here I am. So ye may take it from me that I'm captain and nobody else."

"Well," said I, "if there's truth in the saying that there's safety in numbers, the passage should be comfortable and speedy," and with that I went below to look after my traps.

The ship sailed an hour later, but it was not until dinner time that I saw what we were to expect more or less throughout the whole of the long run to England. We were then at sea, the high sun burning over our masthead, a hot breeze blowing over the quarter, and the ship thrusting along under full breasts of canvas and wide overhanging wings of studding-sail. A bell rang to announce dinner, and I quitted the quarter-deck for the cabin. On entering I found Mr. Wilson seated at the head of the table. Captain Parfitt followed me below, and instantly exclaimed to Mr. Wilson:

"That's my place. You must clear out of that chair, please."

"I shall do nothing of the sort." said Mr. Wilson. "I am master of this ship by orders of her lawful captain. You are an interloper."

Captain Parfitt turned pale and breathed short.

"I am captain of this ship," said he, "and you are her chief mate. You will go on deck, if you please, and keep a lookout whilst I eat my dinner."

Mr. Wilson did not offer to move; merely eyed Captain Parfitt with his extraordinarily stern face. Captain Parfitt clenched his fists.

"Gentlemen," said I, "there must be some remedy for this."

"So there is, by God!" roared Parfitt. "It's mutiny. If ye ain't out of that chair in a jiffy I'll clap ye in irons."

"You?" shouted Mr. Wilson, half springing from his seat.

At this moment the door of one of the after cabins was opened, and two stout sailors appeared, bearing the immense shape of Captain Punch in a chair, to which poles had been lashed.

"Is dinner ready?" he called out.


"Is dinner ready?" he called out.