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Updated: June 28, 2025
Almost more than for that, I liked him for the spontaneous boyish laugh he gave on the occasions when I reached the points of several funny stories. No man could laugh like that and be all bad. I was glad that it was he, and not Mr. Mellaire, who was to sit opposite throughout the voyage. And I was very glad that Mr. Mellaire was not to eat with us at all.
That such a wretched muck of men should be able to work this magnificent ship through all storm and darkness and peril of the sea was beyond all seeming. I remembered the two mates, the super-efficiency, mental and physical, of Mr. Mellaire and Mr. Pike could they make this human wreckage do it? They, at least, evinced no doubts of their ability. The sea?
It was from her that Wada and I learned how mortal a sin it was to give meat to a young puppy. Furthermore, she laid down the law and the diet for Possum, not alone to me and Wada, but to the steward, the carpenter, and Mr. Mellaire.
But I cannot shake from my eyes that vision of him when life forsook his veins, and his mouth slacked, and his eyelids closed, while his face took on the white transparency of death. I wonder who will be the next to finish the game and depart with a sack of coal. "Oh, this is nothing, sir," Mr. Mellaire remarked to me cheerfully as we strolled the poop during the first watch.
But at the chart-room door I encountered Mr. Mellaire. "A pleasant evening, sir," he greeted me. "A pity there's not a little wind to help us off the land." "What do you think of the crew?" I asked, after a moment or so. Mr. Mellaire shrugged his shoulders. "I've seen many queer crews in my time, Mr. Pathurst.
And with that I knew my life was in danger, and I have come to make report to you, sir, that the man is a violent lunatic. "Or soon will be," I remarked. "I noticed him yesterday, a big man muttering continually to himself?" "That's the man," Mr. Mellaire said. "Do you have many such at sea?" I asked. "More than my share, I do believe, sir."
A little later during the meal I ventured to talk about what had interested me and aroused my admiration, namely, the masterfulness with which Mr. Pike and Mr. Mellaire had gripped hold of that woeful, worthless crew. It was all new to me, I explained, but I appreciated the need of it. As I led up to the occurrence on Number Two hatch, when Mr.
I stopped, and then he said, hurriedly and confusedly: "Never mind, sir . . . I beg your pardon . . . I I changed my mind." Below, lying in my bunk, I found myself unable to read. My mind was bent on returning to what had just occurred on deck, and, against my will, the most gruesome speculations kept suggesting themselves. And then came Mr. Mellaire.
We had to weather the bight of land and islands into which we had drifted, and sea and wind worked directly on shore. The only way out was to drive through the water, to drive fast and hard, and this was borne in upon me by Mr. Pike bounding past to the break of the poop, where I heard him shout to Mr. Mellaire to set the mainsail. Evidently the second mate was dubious, for the next cry of Mr.
At first I thought he was abashed by Miss West's presence. Later, I decided it was due to the presence of the captain. For Captain West had a way with him that I was beginning to learn. Far removed as Mr. Pike and Mr. Mellaire were from the sailors, individuals as they were of an entirely different and superior breed, yet equally as different and far removed from his officers was Captain West.
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