There was already a good deal of discontent prevailing among the crew, both on account of the bad food which they had to put up with, and on account of their leave ashore at Monte Video having been, as they thought, capriciously refused; and it was therefore something more nearly approaching to a howl than a song that was now heard from the capstan and from the party who were hoisting the heavy mainsail.  The customary English chorus—­

    “Haul the bowline,
     The captain he is growling;
     Haul the bowline,
     The bowline haul”—­

was sung with offensive significance; and though, at the last heavy heave with which the enormous anchor was catted up to the bows, the mate tried to create a diversion in the feeling by a cheery “Saat ‘kjelimen—­hal’ paa,” the concluding words of the song—­

     “Aa hal i—­aa—­iaa—­
     Cheerily, men!”—­

were delivered in a scornful shout.

“You’ll have a chance of cooling yourselves presently, my lads,” said Salve, coming up at the moment from his own heavy work with the cross-jack; “when we weather the point, all the lee-sails have to be set”—­and the remark had the effect which he desired of intensifying the prevailing irritation.

In spite of the vertical heat, the hail of orders from the captain’s trumpet continued, accompanied by reprimands and fault-finding all round, until the crew were nearly in a state of mutiny, and it was not until late in the evening that he showed any signs of exhaustion.

His temper had not improved next day.  He looked as if he had a determination of blood to the head; and every time he came near Salve, he glared at him as if it was all he could do to control himself from an outburst of some kind or another.  He knew that Salve had made love to Elizabeth, and had wished to make her presents since she had come into his house; and that the same girl was now to be his son’s wife—­the idea was absolutely intolerable!

At last he could contain himself no longer.  Salve had just deposited a coil of rope aft, and the captain, after watching his movements with evidently suppressed irritation, broke out suddenly, without preface of any kind—­

“You, I believe, had some acquaintance with that—­that Elizabeth Raklev I took into my house.”

Salve felt the blood rush to his heart.  He seemed to know what was coming.

“The post,” the captain continued, in a bitterly contemptuous tone, “has brought me the delightful intelligence that my son has engaged himself to her.”

“Congratulate you, captain,” said Salve.  His voice almost failed him, and he was deadly pale, but his eyes flashed with a wild defiance.

He went forward, and the captain growled after him to himself, “He can have that to fret over now instead of the food;” and as the mate was coming up the cabin stairs at the moment polishing the sextant, he turned away with a look of grim satisfaction to take the altitude.