"Your chief mate is a mutineer. He refuses to obey my orders," cried Captain Parfitt.
"Up ye get, Wilson; that's my seat," said Captain Punch, taking no notice of Parfitt.
Mr. Wilson at once made way, and the two sailors, broadly grinning, with much pushing and shoving, hove, or rather prized old Punch into the chair of honour. Mr. Wilson swiftly seated himself at the foot of the table.
"Sit ye down, sir; sit ye down," cried old Punch to me. "Who's got the lookout on deck?"
"The ship's watching herself," sulkily growled Captain Parfitt.
"Hadn't ye better go tip and look after her?" said Punch to Parfitt.
"What am I to understand?" shouted Parfitt.
"Why this," interrupted Captain Punch, "that this is a ship as could very well ha' found her way home without ye. You wasn't wanted; but since ye've made up your mind to come, why, durn my eyes, ye'll have to take things as ye find 'em. Mr. Wilson's the captain-helect by my authority, and whilst I've got lungs to blow a breath of air out with I'm the gorramighty of the Biddy McDougal. Understand that."
Without answering a word Captain Parfitt flung his cap down upon the locker and took his seat at the table abreast of me. On this Captain Punch bade Mr. Wilson tell the ship's carpenter—who it seems acted as second mate—to keep a lookout until he was relieved from the cabin.
"Seeing that I have paid for my passage aboard this ship, and that it is highly desirable, absolutely essential in a word, that I should have some head to refer to, some person in supreme authority to complain to and to appeal to in case of discomfort or difficulty, I should be glad to know, gentlemen, which of you I am to consider as captain of the Biddy McDougal?" said I, hoping by this stilted but nevertheless resolutely uttered address to clear the air somewhat and do some good.
"I am captain," said Punch, with his mouth full of beef.
"Yes, and I am in charge," said Captain Parfitt.
"You mean, I am in charge," cried Mr. Wilson.
"I am captain of this ship, and the supreme head, sir," cried Punch, addressing me, "but Mr. Wilson represents me whilst I'm off duty through illness, and so long as he represents me he is master helect, as I afore said, and there's no man aboard this ship who's going to say contrairy."
"Yes, there is," said Captain Parfitt; "but I don't mean to waste no words on either of ye. You know where my authority comes from. I'm master of the Biddy McDougal till I've berthed her in the dock she's bound to, and if this here mate of yours interferes with me I'll log him for mutiny, break him, and send him forrads, as ye both know I've got the power to do. And if that don't answer—" he interrupted himself by exclaiming: "But I don't want no words," and so saying he rose, having eaten little or nothing, and went on deck.
Well, as may be supposed, this was but the first of a long series of uncomfortable quarrels. I cannot positively say that Captain Parfitt did not log Mr. Wilson for mutiny, and order him forward into the forecastle to work before the mast. This I cannot say, but it is certain that Mr. Wilson did not go forward; on the contrary, he remained very much aft, giving instructions without regard to Captain Parfitt's orders, and acting in all ways as though he, and he alone, were master of the vessel.
That very same day, I remember—I mean that day on which the quarrel at that table happened—Mr. Wilson came on deck whilst Captain Parfitt was pacing the weather side, keeping a look-out, and with an air of aggression stared into the compass, then looked aloft, also very aggressively, and then sent his eyes round the sea-line, making a motion with his head that was offensive with its suggestion of criticism. Presently, taking his stand abreast of the mizenmast to leeward, he asked the man at the wheel how the ship's head was. The fellow replied.
"Let her come to three-quarters of a point," called out Mr. Wilson; "and, Captain Parfitt, you will be so good as to trim sail."
"Keep her as she goes!" roared Parfitt.
"You are making too much westing," exclaimed Mr. Wilson.
"Leave the deck, sir," bawled Parfitt.
"By what chart are you sailing, I should like to know?" sneered Mr. Wilson. "Why damme, man, we aren't bound to Madras."
An angry quarrel followed, a mere affray
