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Updated: May 17, 2025
Three feet away from them in the shade a seaman sat on a spar, very busy splicing a strop, and dipping his fingers into a tar-pot, as if utterly unaware of their existence. When I returned in command of another ship, some five years afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Falk had left the place.
And indeed on thinking it over it would have been plausible enough if there hadn't been always the essential falseness of irresponsibility in Schomberg's chatter. However, I was not disposed to investigate the psychology of Falk.
They lolled around with an air of exasperating superiority when they saw any of the rest of us looking at them; and now and then they exchanged glances that I was at a loss to understand until all at once a new thought dawned on me: since the captain and the first mate were dead, the command of the ship devolved upon Mr. Falk, the second mate.
Captain Whidden had been a gentleman and a first-class sailor; by ordering our life strictly, though not harshly or severely, he had maintained that efficient, smoothly working organization which is best and pleasantest for all concerned. But Captain Falk was a master whose sails were cut on another pattern. He lacked Captain Whidden's straightforward, searching gaze.
The old man ran on in a pathetic monologue, for none of us felt exactly at liberty to put in our own oars, and he could find relief only in his incoherent talk. It had been a needless and unkind thing and the men almost unanimously disapproved of it. Why indeed should Captain Falk not send Davie back to the forecastle rather than make his life miserable aft?
Also he had established for himself an alibi of a kind, if ever he should be accused of tattling about affairs in the cabin. That Captain Falk had promised to divide the money among the crew, I long had suspected; consequently that part of the cook's revelations did not surprise me. But the picture he gave of affairs in the cabin, disconnected though it was, caused me grave concern.
He longed for Falk with a great longing. He could not hold out against the boy for very much longer; but even then, were the quarrel made up, things would not now he the same. Falk did not need him any more. He had new life, new friends, new work. "It's my nerves," thought Brandon. "I will go and see Puddifoot."
"Ay, if that's the way of it," says Vantti at last, and offers his hand. Falk takes it, and turns to face the crowd. "Listen," he says aloud. "Vantti, here, and I, we take you to witness that we've called off our bet here and now. So there's none can blame us afterwards. If the two men who've entered for the match will cry off too, there's an end of it. If not, 'tis their own affair."
"You will rest better here.... Please don't dispute.... But let me be near, if you will." He showed her a little room that joined his own. Falk had made it ready. "Just the place for me.... And after you have lain down, please whistle softly. I shall come in and read to you until you are asleep." "It's like a fairy story already," he said.
"All we want's bread and water," he whined. "Give us the money, then," Roger repeated, "and we'll see that you don't starve." His voice was calm and incisive. He absolutely controlled the situation. Falk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "But we ain't got the money. So help me God, we ain't got a cent of it." "Hand over the money," Roger repeated, "and we'll give you food and water."
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