attitude might give them an opportunity which they would be quick to take advantage of; it was therefore resolutely adhered to.  The captain instilled into his officers the doctrine of keeping them always at work, bad weather or fine.  “Make them permanently tired,” said he; “make them feel fit for their bunks.”  That was all very well, but in order to carry this out the officers were kept permanently tired also.

Though many years have elapsed since those troubled days and nights, the memory of them is still with me, watching, working, wakeful, always on the alert, anticipating assassination; even my brief sleep was troubled with visions of sanguinary conflict.  It was no mere delusion.  Each day brought evidences of coming trouble.  How and when it would come did not matter, so long as we were prepared for it.  Whisperings and audible grumblings were ominous tokens of what was in the wind.  The captain and I had some conversation concerning the situation.  He was of opinion that the sailor who opened the rebellion at the beginning of the voyage would lead an open and concerted revolt, and perhaps I agreed with him that something of the sort might easily happen; so we resolved to keep a tight eye on this sinister development.  One night about ten o’clock, while beating through a narrow channel, the captain said to me, “I am going below; you must take charge.”  And after giving me the necessary instructions, he said in a low tone, “Now mind, keep your eyes and ears wide open; you may be taken unawares at any moment.”  I thanked him for the advice, and he bade me good-night and left the poop.  An Irishman was at the wheel, and for a time his steering was good.  As the wind was dead in our teeth and blowing strong, the course was full and by the wind.  It soon became necessary to tack, and as it is always customary for the officer in charge to take the helm in performing this evolution, it became my duty to do so, but as soon as the vessel was round, I told the man to take the wheel again.  I then proceeded to see that all the sails were properly trimmed.  This being done, I went on to the poop again, and as the helmsman was steering in a most erratic fashion, first sailing her bang off the wind and then shaking the sails almost aback, I remonstrated with him, but to no purpose.  At last I said to him that if he did not steer better, I would be obliged to turn him from the wheel.  No greater disgrace can be inflicted on a self-respecting seaman than this.  I have known men suffer an agony by the mere threat of it.  But the heterogeneous crew that we had to control had no sensitiveness of that kind.  I was told, amid a running stream of filthy swearing, to take the wheel myself.  The ship and all in authority were cursed with Hibernian fluency.  A special appeal was made for our immediate consignment to the hottest part of hell.  The harangue was suddenly cut short by my jumping from the poop on top of him as he was about to pass away from the helm.