I gestured towards the forehatch.  A dozen men sat upon it, quietly smoking and gossiping.  “The squally weather is past,” I said.  “Those lads don’t want trouble.  A few hours ago they were all for fight—­but now they’ve settled down.  And don’t you try to start trouble!  The big fellow wants peace, the lady wants peace, we must help them to keep peace.  Don’t you want to help the lady and the big fellow?”

“De lady been awful good to me,” said Nigger, in almost a whisper.  “Ah gone crazy long ago if it ain’t foh de lady.”  He stopped his whetting and tried the edge of the blade with his thumb; then, suddenly, he reached out and clutched my wrist, and continued in a voice so charged with pain and grief, that I was appalled.

“Ah’d do mos’ anything foh de lady, but, Shreve, it ain’t foh me, and it ain’t foh any of us forward to say what’s goin’ to happen in dis ship.  Ah ain’t no sea-lawyer; man and boy Ah’ve gone to sea twenty year, and Ah ain’t nebber made no trouble in no ship, no suh.  But, oh mah Lawd, yoh knows what all’s happened to me in dis ship!  Dey won’t let me be a man.  ‘Yoh niggah, yoh black beast!’ Dat’s what dey calls me, and dat’s what dey makes me!  Ah wants peace, yoh wants peace—­but does dey want peace?  No, suh!  Yoh say de ship peaceful now?  Dis am a debbil-ship, and dey’s a king debbil aft!  And dey’s a shark overside, and he wasn’t waitin’ foh what jus’ went into the water, no, suh!  Yoh ebber sail out East?  Yoh ebber see de quiet befoh a typhoon, so quiet seems like yoh can’t breathe?  Dat’s de kind ob peace dat’s on de Golden Bough.  Ah don’ want to make no trouble no time, but, oh mah Lawd, when Ah does mah work right an’ gets hazed foh it, when dat mate makes a beast out ob me—­does yoh think Ah stand dat fohebber?”

I had no answer of good cheer.  What could I say?  The man’s wrongs were too bitter, his hurts too constant, to be glossed over or soothed by any words I could think of.  For I knew he still had weeks of brutal mistreatment ahead of him.  This Nigger was a man who would not, perhaps could not, cringe and whine—­and so the mate was “breaking” him.

But after all Nigger gave me the promise I was after.  “Ah nebber talks trouble.  Ah nebber wants trouble, and Ah nebber stirs up no trouble.”

CHAPTER XV

The day following Nils’ death was the most peaceful day we had had since leaving port.

There was less cursing and driving from the men aft, and less wrangling among ourselves.  But it was a strange peace.  An air of suspense lay upon the ship; we went around on tiptoe, so to speak.  The quiet before the typhoon—­aye, Nigger’s phrase just about described it.  We went around telling each other that the trouble had blown over, and nothing was going to happen, and all the time we were watching and waiting for something—­we didn’t know just what—­to happen.