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“Johnson,” interrupted the other, “wait–it’s of no account now. This man’s advice is sound. No one would believe us, and we can prove nothing. We are thoroughly helpless, and must submit until we reach a consular port, or something happens. Now, men,” he said to the others, “my name is Breen. Call me by it. You, too, Johnson. I yield to the inevitable, and will do my share of the work as well as I can. If I make mistakes, don’t hesitate to criticize, and post me, if you will. I’ll be grateful.”

“But I’ll tell you one thing to start with,” said Johnson, glaring around the forecastle: “we’ll take turns at bringin’ grub and cleanin’ up the forecastle. Another thing: I’ve sailed in these wind-jammers enough to know my work; and that’s more than you fellows know, by the looks of you. I don’t want your instructions; but Mr. Breen, here–Breen, I mean” (a gesture from the other had interrupted him)–“Breen’s forgotten what you and I will never learn, though he might not be used to pullin’ ropes and swabbing paint-work. If I find one o’ you pesterin’ him, or puttin’ up any jobs, I’ll break that man’s head; understand me? Any one want to put this thing to the test, now?” He scanned each man’s face in turn; but none showed an inclination to respond. They had seen him fight the big first mate. “There’s not the makin’ of a whole man among you,” he resumed. “You stand still while three men do up two, when, if you had any nerve, Mr. —- Breen, here, might be aft, ‘stead o’ eatin’ cracker-hash with a lot o’ dock-rats and beach-combers. He’s had better playmates; so ‘ve I, for that matter, o’ late years.”

“Johnson, keep still,” said the other. “It doesn’t matter what we have had, who we were or might be. We’re before the mast, bound for Hong-Kong. We may find a consul at Anjer; I’m not sure. Meanwhile, I’m Breen, and you are Johnson, and it is no one’s business what we have been. I’m not anxious for this matter to become public. I can explain to the department, and no one else need know.”

“Very good, sir.”

“No; not ‘sir.’ Keep that for our superiors.”

Johnson grumbled a little; then Mr. Hansen’s round Swedish face appeared at the door.

“Hi, you in dere–you big feller–you come out. You belong in der utter watch. You hear? You come out on deck,” he called.

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Johnson, rising sullenly.

“All the better, Johnson,” whispered Breen. “One can keep a lookout all the time. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.”

So for these two men the work of the voyage began. The hard-headed, aggressive Johnson, placed in the mate’s watch, had no trouble in finding his place, and keeping it, at the top of the class. He ruled the assorted types of all nations, who worked and slept with him, with sound logic backed by a strong arm and hard fist, never trying to conceal his contempt for them.

“You mixed nest o’ mongrels,” he would say, at the end of some petty squabble which he had settled for them, “why don’t you stay in your own country ships? Or, if you must sign in American craft, try to feel and act like Americans. It’s just this same yawping at one another in the forecastles that makes it easy for the buckoes aft to hunt you. And that’s why you get your berths. No skipper ‘ll ship an American sailor while there’s a Dutchman left in the shippin’-office. He wouldn’t think it safe to go to sea with too many American sailors forward to call him down and make him treat ’em decent. He picks a Dago here, and a Dutchman there, and all the Sou’wegians he sees, and fills in with the rakin’s and scrapin’s o’ Hell, Bedlam, and Newgate, knowin’ they’ll hate one another worse than they hate him, and never stand together.”