he fate of the ship; though none, I expect, who would care much about
her crew. But I'll tell you that her crew was the toughest gang I ever
saw in a forecastle, and her skipper and mate the most inhuman brutes I
ever saw aft. I was second mate, and, having won my berth in deep
water, thought I was something of a bucko; but I found my masters
there. The ship, I may as well say, was one of the packets that traded
between New York and Liverpool, sometimes carrying passengers, but not
always. We had none this trip.

"Before we were two days out from Sandy Hook I got a taste of the
skipper's caliber. A man aloft--a big, red-headed fellow, gave me an
insolent answer from the cro'-jack yard, and I called him down. When he
reached the deck I was ready, and sent him reeling over the break of
the poop with one smash on the jaw. He was satisfied to go aloft again
and answer civilly when spoken to; but the skipper, who had watched the
performance, was not. He called me over to the lee alley and faced me,
his face fairly alive with rage and contempt.

"'Say, you--you--you Sunday school teacher! Is that the way you expect
to handle men in these packets? Hey?'

"'I didn't hit him hard, sir,' I answered. 'I didn't hurt him. He's
aloft now, at work.'

"'You didn't hurt him? No, I'll warrant you didn't! Why didn't you
follow him up, watch for his knife, and take it away from him? 'Fraid
of him? Hey? How do you expect to get along wi' this kind of a crew if
you're content with one smash? Follow it up, man! Follow up your first
blow with another, and another, till you're sure of him.'

"'Oh, I understand, Captain,' I said. 'Well, sir, I'm not worrying over
any further trouble with that fellow. He's had enough.'

"'Make sure of it. You'll get no sympathy from me if he wins out.'

"It seems that the way of deep water was not the way of the packets.
Somewhat impressed by this, I waited until eight bells, when the
red-head came down--his job was merely the passing of new ribbons in
place of old--and tackled him amidships, as he went forward.

"'Well,' I said. 'What do you think? The skipper says I didn't give you
enough. Have you had enough, or do you want more?'

"He looked me squarely in the eyes, and his hand wandered toward his
sheath knife in his belt. Mine wandered toward a pistol in my hip
pocket.

"'I'm 'fore the mast, sir,' he said; 'and as a man 'fore the mast--yes,
of course I've had enough. But I've been aft, and I may