Aw--ll's well!"

The Mate, who until now has been leaning lazily over the poop rail,
comes aft, yawning whole-heartedly, as men do at sea. He peers into
the dimly-lighted binnacle, turns his gaze to the sail aloft, sniffs
the wind, and fixes me with a stern though drowsy eye.

"H-mm! You, is it?" (I have but a modest reputation as a steersman.)
"Jest you keep 'r full now, or I'll teach ye steerin' in your watch
below. Keep 'r full, an' no damned shinnanikin!" He goes forward.

'Shinnanikin' is a sailor word; it means anything at all; it may be
made an adjective or a verb, or almost any part of speech, to serve a
purpose or express a thought. Here it meant that there was to be no
fooling at the helm, that she was to be steered as by Gunter himself.
"Full an' by," was the word. "Full an' by, an' no damned shinnanikin!"
Right!

The light grows, and the towering mass of canvas and cordage shows
faint shadows here and there. The chickens in the quarter coops stir
and cackle; a cock crows valiantly. Eccles, sleeping his watch on the
lee side of the poop, stirs uneasily, finds a need for movement, and
tramps irresolutely up and down his appointed station. From somewhere
out of sight the Mate shouts an order, and he goes forward to take in
the sidelights; dim and sickly they shine as he lifts them inboard.

There is now some sign of life about the decks. A keen smell of
burning wood and a glare from the galley show that the cook has taken
up the day's duties. Some men of the watch are already gathered about
the door waiting for their morning coffee, and the 'idlers' (as the
word is at sea), the steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, in various
states of attire, are getting ready for their work.

Two bells marks five o'clock, and the crowd about the galley door grows
impatient. The cook has a difficulty with his fire, and is behind time.

"Come on, 'doctor'!" shouts Old Martin; "get a move on yer! Them
tawps'l 'alyards is screechin' fer a pull, an' th' Mate's got 'is
heagle heye on that 'ere fore-tack. 'E'll be a-floggin' th' clock
afore ye knows it!"

The Mate hears this, as Martin intended he should, and scowls darkly at
that ancient mariner. Martin will have his 'old iron' worked up for
that before the watch is out. He's a hard case. Coffee is served out,
and the crowd disperses. It is now broad daylight, and the sun is on
the horizon. The east is a-fire with his radiance; purest gold there
changing t