n continued to face the stern; then turned with
ferocious suddenness on the crew, and seemed to enjoy their shrinking.

"Now," he said, twisting his cigar in his mouth and toying with the
spokes of the wheel. "I'm Captain Brown. I command this ship. This is
Mr. Hay, first officer. The other white man is cabin steward, but he'll
stand watch and do his trick. My orders shall be obeyed smartly. You
savvy, '_smartly_'? There shall be no growling about the kaikai, which
will be above allowance. You'll put a handle to the mate's name, and
tack on 'sir' to every order I give you. If you're smart and quick, I'll
make this ship comfortable for all hands." He took the cigar out of his
mouth. "If you're not," he added, in a roaring voice, "I'll make it a
floating hell.--Now, Mr. Hay, we'll pick watches, if you please."

"All right," said Herrick.

"You will please use 'sir' when you address me, Mr. Hay," said the
captain. "I'll take the lady. Step to starboard, Sally." And then he
whispered in Herrick's ear, "Take the old man."

"I'll take you, there," said Herrick.

"What's your name?" said the captain. "What's that you say? O, that's
not English; I'll have none of your highway gibberish on my ship. We'll
call you old Uncle Ned, because you've got no wool on the top of your
head, just the place where the wool ought to grow. Step to port, Uncle.
Don't you hear Mr. Hay has picked you? Then I'll take the white man.
White Man, step to starboard. Now, which of you two is the cook? You?
Then Mr. Hay takes your friend in the blue dungaree. Step to port,
Dungaree, There, we know who we all are: Dungaree, Uncle Ned, Sally Day,
White Man, and Cook. All F.F.V.'s I guess. And now, Mr. Hay, we'll up
anchor, if you please."

"For heaven's sake, tell me some of the words," whispered Herrick.

An hour later the _Farallone_ was under all plain sail, the rudder hard
a-port, and the cheerfully-clanking windlass had brought the anchor
home.

"All clear, sir," cried Herrick from the bow.

The captain met her with the wheel, as she bounded like a stag from her
repose, trembling and bending to the puffs. The guard-boat gave a
parting hail, the wake whitened and ran out; the _Farallone_ was under
weigh.

Her berth had been close to the pass. Even as she forged ahead Davis
slewed her for the channel between the pier-ends of the reef, the
breakers sounding and whitening to either hand. Straight through the
narrow band of blue she shot to seawa