Look out! Here she
comes."
The skipper fled hastily, and, safe down below, explained to the crew
how they were to secrete portions of their breakfast for his benefit.
The amount of explanation required for so simple a matter was
remarkable, the crew manifesting a denseness which irritated him almost
beyond endurance. They promised, however, to do the best they could for
him, and returned in triumph after a hearty meal, and presented their
enraged commander with a few greasy crumbs and the tail of a bloater.
For the next two days the wind was against them, and they made but
little progress. Mrs. Harbolt spent most of her time on deck, thereby
confining her husband to his evil-smelling quarters below. Matters were
not improved for him by his treatment of the crew, who, resenting his
rough treatment of them, were doing their best to starve him into
civility. Most of the time he kept in his bunk--or rather Jemmy's bunk--
a prey to despondency and hunger of an acute type, venturing on deck
only at night to prowl uneasily about and bemoan his condition.
On the third night Mrs. Harbolt was later in retiring than usual, and it
was nearly midnight before the skipper, who had been indignantly waiting
for her to go, was able to get on deck and hold counsel with the mate.
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