"_Here he was!_" again shouted the excited Jimmy, grabbing the lantern from the hand of Scouse.
"Here he _what_?" demanded the mate, coming down into the waist. The mate bent over the wet spot and exploded in a string of oaths. "No flying fish ever made that! Here, you!" and he grabbed Jimmy. "This is some of your damn monkey shines, you old dried up bundle of sea tripe! ---- ---- your gray hairs, I'll flying fish you! Lay aloft to the main skysail yard and watch the stars! I'll call you down on deck whenever we need you!"
For several nights after that Jimmy spent his time climbing up and down the main rigging, for no sooner would he get up than the mate would think of something to do that required his presence on deck.
The flying fish episode furnished us with something to talk about in the fo'c'sle, and while Jimmy always tried to leave the impression that the joke was on the mate and the rest of us, we felt that his over zeal in discovering the puddle of water in which his clever hand had simulated the nervous flapping of the fins of a flying fish had turned the tables. My idea was that Jimmy, after seeing how well the thing was taking, could not resist the temptation to get the credit.
We also harpooned our first bonita, a very active, virile fish, shaped like a short double ended spindle buoy, and striped lengthwise. These fish are exceedingly lively and jump about with terrific energy when brought on deck. Before taking this fish to the galley, Old Smith of the other watch, and Frenchy, and of course Jimmy Marshall, tested the meat with a silver coin, to see if it was of the poison variety.
"If the silver turns black the fish is poison," explained Frenchy. In this case the bonita was pronounced "good to eat," and a great feast was on that night; however, I never cared much for fish anyway and did not touch it. Chow had certainly made an ill looking mess of it, garnished with broken tack, and basted with pork fat.
"You'll wisht you had a bit of this tucker afore we get to Honolulu," was the comment of Joe, who proceeded to help himself liberally.
An undercurrent of trouble had been running for some time, finding expression in much subdued comment and criticism, at odd moments, when small groups of the watch would foregather about the fo'c'sle during the dog watch below. These dog watch hours were, during fine weather, given over largely to yarning, smoking, reading, or playing cards, or checkers, and to the performance of such odd jobs as sailors do during their few leisure moments. Big George, or Scouse, as we called him, had become something of a bully, and Joe, the most independent of his subjects, had on several occasions taken pains to let Scouse understand that he resented the way in which the big fellow carried on among the farmers of the watch. Of course Scouse never dared open his mouth to any of the real sailors, but he had gradually set himself up as a sort of autocrat among the pushers of the "bear."