coming or not I think she ought to be put head on to that swell.
The old man is just gone in to lie down. Hang me if I don't speak
to him."
But when he opened the door of the chart-room he saw his captain
reading a book. Captain MacWhirr was not lying down: he was
standing up with one hand grasping the edge of the bookshelf and
the other
holding open before his face a thick
volume. The lamp
wriggled in the gimbals, the loosened books toppled from side to
side on the shelf, the long barometer swung in jerky circles, the
table altered its slant every moment. In the midst of all this
stir and
movement Captain MacWhirr,
holding on, showed his eyes
above the upper edge, and asked, "What's the matter?"
"Swell getting worse, sir."
"Noticed that in here," muttered Captain MacWhirr. "Anything
wrong?"
Jukes,
inwardly disconcerted by the
seriousness of the eyes
looking at him over the top of the book, produced an embarrassed
grin.
"Rolling like old boots," he said, sheepishly.
"Aye! Very heavy -- very heavy. What do you want?"
At this Jukes lost his
footing and began to
flounder. "I was
thinking of our passengers," he said, in the manner of a man
clutching at a straw.
"Passengers?" wondered the Captain,
gravely. "What passengers?"
"Why, the Chinamen, sir," explained Jukes, very sick of this
conversation.
"The Chinamen! Why don't you speak
plainly? Couldn't tell what
you meant. Never heard a lot of coolies
spoken of as passengers
before. Passengers, indeed! What's come to you?"
Captain MacWhirr, closing the book on his
forefinger, lowered his
arm and looked completely mystified. "Why are you thinking of the
Chinamen, Mr. Jukes?" he inquired.
Jukes took a
plunge, like a man
driven to it. "She's rolling her
decks full of water, sir. Thought you might put her head on
perhaps -- for a while. Till this goes down a bit -- very soon,
I dare say. Head to the
eastward. I never knew a ship roll like
this."
He held on in the
doorway, and Captain MacWhirr, feeling his grip
on the shelf inadequate, made up his mind to let go in a hurry,
and fell heavily on the couch.
"Head to the
eastward?" he said, struggling to sit up. "That's
more than four points off her course."
"Yes, sir. Fifty degrees. . . . Would just bring her head far
enough round to meet this. . . ."
Captain MacWhirr was now sitting up. He had not dropped the
book, and he had not lost his place.
"To the
eastward?" he
repeated, with dawning
astonishment. "To
the . . . Where do you think we are bound to? You want me to
haul a full-powered
steamship four points off her course to make
the Chinamen comfortable! Now, I've heard more than enough of
mad things done in the world -- but this. . . . If I didn't know
you, Jukes, I would think you were in
liquor. Steer four points
off. . . . And what afterwards? Steer four points over the
other way, I suppose, to make the course good. What put it into
your head that I would start to tack a
steamer as if she were a
sailing-ship?"
"Jolly good thing she isn't," threw in Jukes, with bitter
readiness. "She would have rolled every
blessed stick out of her
this afternoon."
"Aye! And you just would have had to stand and see them go,"
said Captain MacWhirr, showing a certain animation. "It's a dead
calm, isn't it?"
"It is, sir. But there's something out of the common coming, for
sure."
"Maybe. I suppose you have a notion I should be getting out of
the way of that dirt," said Captain MacWhirr,
speaking with the
utmost
simplicity of manner and tone, and fixing the oilcloth on
the floor with a heavy stare. Thus he noticed neither Jukes'
discomfiture nor the
mixture of
vexation and astonished respect
on his face.
"Now, here's this book," he continued with
deliberation, slapping
his thigh with the closed
volume. "I've been
reading the chapter