Chapter IV

Charlie won the first game at draughts, and they had just begun a second when the skipper suddenly appeared at the galley door. His face was flushed, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

'The galley is not the place for playing draughts,' he said, and with his hand swept the pieces off the board.

Charlie and Ping Wang made no remark. It was plain to them that he had paid that visit for the sole purpose of bullying them, and they were wondering what his next complaint would be.

'I want a mug of tea,' he said, seeing that the kettle was not boiling.

Charlie put the kettle on the fire at once.

'That's the result of playing draughts when you ought to be at work,' the skipper growled. 'I always want some tea at this time.'

'In future it shall be ready, sir,' Charles replied, calmly.

'Future—eh?—I want it now. What's that Chinee doing here?'

'I thought you noticed that Ping Wang was playing draughts with me.'

'You're not paid to think. I do that for all the crew.'

Then the skipper turned his attention to prying into the pots and pans, to see if he could discover anything which would give him an opportunity to find fault. To his evident annoyance he did not succeed in discovering anything, for Charlie had done his work thoroughly, and the cooking utensils looked much cleaner than when he entered on his duties.

In a few minutes the tea was ready, and as soon as the skipper tasted it he made a grimace, and exclaimed, 'Beastly wash!—Do you hear?' he exclaimed, finding that Charlie did not speak. 'It's wash!'

'It is made in exactly the same way as the other tea you have had during the day,' Charlie declared.

'Then I must have drunk wash before. But I won't drink this. Here, Chinee, you drink it.'

'Me no want any, skipper,' Ping Wang answered.

'Don't want it, eh? What does that matter? Drink it at once.'

Ping Wang shook his head, and the skipper immediately flung the contents of his mug full in the Chinaman's face. The tea was very hot, and with a cry of pain Ping Wang ran at his tormentor. Stepping backwards quickly, to avoid him, the skipper stumbled over the weather-board at the entrance to the galley, and fell heavily on to the deck.

The mate, who had been pacing the deck, ran to pick him up. 'What's the matter, skipper?' he asked.

'That Chinee has knocked me down,' the skipper declared.

'He did nothing of the kind,' Charlie declared, and related to the mate exactly what happened.

'You'd better get an hour or two's sleep before we haul,' the mate said to the skipper, and, taking his arm, led him away.

'I think we had better turn in also,' Ping Wang said, and Charlie at once went forward with him.

The other men were already asleep. The ventilators were all closed, and the foc's'le was so close and stuffy that Charlie thought, at first, that he would have to go on deck again. But, being very tired, he determined to stay where he was, and clambered into his bunk. He slept soundly, in spite of the bad air, until Ping Wang aroused him. It was a quarter to eleven, and the men were donning their oilskins, with a view to hauling.

'You had better put the kettle on,' Ping Wang said to Charlie; 'all hands will want tea before they turn in again.'

Charlie, wearing his oilskins, went to the galley at once. As he passed along the deck he shivered, for a breeze had sprung up, and the air struck cold, after the stuffiness of the foc's'le.

(Continued on page 226.)