ay, perhaps because he was excited by the
quarrel, he drank more recklessly, and by four o'clock was stretched
insensible upon the locker.

Herrick and Huish supped alone, one after the other, opposite his
flushed and snorting body. And if the sight killed Herrick's hunger,
the isolation weighed so heavily on the clerk's spirit that he was
scarce risen from table ere he was currying favour with his former
comrade.

Herrick was at the wheel when he approached, and Huish leaned
confidentially across the binnacle.

"I say, old chappie," he said, "you and me don't seem to be such pals
somehow."

Herrick gave her a spoke or two in silence; his eye, as it skirted from
the needle to the luff of the foresail, passed the man by without
speculation. But Huish was really dull, a thing he could support with
difficulty, having no resources of his own. The idea of a private talk
with Herrick, at this stage of their relations, held out particular
inducements to a person of his character. Drink besides, as it renders
some men hyper-sensitive, made Huish callous. And it would almost have
required a blow to make him quit his purpose.

"Pretty business, ain't it?" he continued; "Dyvis on the lush? Must say
I thought you gave it 'im A1 to-day. He didn't like it a bit; took on
hawful after you were gone.--' 'Ere,' says I, ''old on, easy on the
lush,' I says. ''Errick was right and you know it. Give 'im a chanst,' I
says.--' 'Uish,' sezee, 'don't you gimme no more of your jaw, or I'll
knock your bloomin' eyes out.' Well, wot can I do, 'Errick? But I tell
you, I don't 'arf like it. It looks to me like the _Sea Rynger_ over
again."

Still Herrick was silent.

"Do you 'ear me speak?" asked Huish sharply. "You're pleasant, ain't
you?"

"Stand away from that binnacle," said Herrick.

The clerk looked at him long and straight and black; his figure seemed
to writhe like that of a snake about to strike; then he turned on his
heel, went back to the cabin and opened a bottle of champagne. When
eight bells were cried he slept on the floor beside the captain on the
locker; and of the whole starboard watch only Sally Day appeared upon
the summons. The mate proposed to stand the watch with him, and let
Uncle Ned lie down; it would make twelve hours on deck, and probably
sixteen, but in this fair-weather sailing he might safely sleep between
his tricks of wheel, leaving orders to be called on any sign of squalls.
So far he could trust the men,