FLOAT WAS bowled out quickly enough: Shotgun lost no time in reporting the facts to the First Mate, and Float was hauled aft to the poop, none too gently, by Bullock himself. In the meantime a number of the fo’c’sle hands plus O’Connor and the carpenter had been overcome by the smoke and when Halfhyde had dragged them clear he saw that both O’Connor and the carpenter, together with one of the seamen, were dead, in addition to the murdered man. Float was now charged officially and the facts were noted by McRafferty in the log.
“You are scum,” he said to Float. “You put in jeopardy the lives of every soul aboard my ship, and you have killed one man and have been responsible for the deaths of three others. You will be landed into police custody the moment we berth in Sydney, or perhaps in Iquique.” McRafferty turned to the First Mate, “Mr Bullock, you’ll have the man handcuffed and placed in leg-irons and accommodated in the fore peak.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Bullock answered. He laid hold of Float’s shoulders and propelled him in a bum’s rush to the poop ladder, Lifting him, he flung him bodily down to the waist. Float lay in a heap on the deck, moaning. Bullock slid down behind him and kicked him brutally to his feet, then once again sent him spinning along the deck to fetch up against the bulwarks by the foot of the mainmast.
That day there were more sea committals, and afterwards Halfhyde was sent for to go to the saloon. McRafferty was seated alone at the long table; Bullock was on watch on the poop above. McRafferty said. “I’m told you rendered good service to my ship this morning, Halfhyde.”
Halfhyde shrugged. “My duty, sir. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“True. But you saved the ship and many lives.”
“Did Mr Bullock report that, sir?”
McRafferty gave him a shrewd look. “No. The fo’c’sle hands did. Also, I saw for myself.” He paused, running a roughened hand over his chin. “You don’t like Mr Bullock, I fancy.”
“Nor him me, sir.”
“I warned you he was a bully. But he’s a good seaman and a hard worker.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
“Good.” McRafferty gave a bleak smile. “You may wonder why I should be discussing my First Mate with a fo’c’sle hand?”
Halfhyde said shortly, “The thought crossed my mind, sir.”
“Then I answer this: I wish you to make an effort to get along with him, for you will be working together as officers. I’m making you acting Second Mate, Mr Halfhyde, until I can find a replacement, which will not be before we reach the Australian coast—anything available in Iquique would be ullage.”
“Why not promote your senior apprentice, sir?”
McRafferty said, “You may as well have asked why I didn’t do so rather than promote the bosun in the first place. The fact is my senior apprentice is very far from experienced—which you are not, at least in regard to the sea itself and the handling of a ship.”
“And my lack of a certificate as Second Mate?”
McRafferty shrugged. “Needs must when the devil drives, Mr Halfhyde, and I have no one else that I would trust. It is, in any case, a formality—you have only to apply to the Board of Trade for a certificate of service and it will be granted, as you’re aware. That is one reason why I have chosen you.”
“And the other reasons, sir—apart from the unavailability of anyone better?”
McRafferty stared him in the eyes and said enigmatically, “So that you will be closer to me when I wish to make use of your services. Kindly transfer your gear from the fo’c’sle to the Second Mate’s cabin, and take over the watch on deck from Mr Bullock at eight bells.”
THERE WERE black looks from the fo’c’sle hands when Halfhyde went for’ard to gather his small amount of gear together; they did not take kindly to one of their number being set above them, and a man so recently joined at that. In their view, he had been promoted to the afterguard simply because he was a “gennel-man” and spoke with a lah-de-dah voice that before long would grate like a saw on the Old Man. When Mr Halfhyde was despatched back to the fo’c’sle he could watch out.
Halfhyde went aft feeling that every man aboard, with the sole exception of the Captain and the old seaman Finney, was against him; and he knew that he would need to watch his every move. There was enmity on the poop as well when he went up to take over from the First Mate, who had been livid at his appointment. Bullock had needed to be given the facts about Halfhyde by the Captain; it was unprecedented for a mere fo’c’sle hand to be so suddenly elevated to the afterguard and Bullock’s tone was sneering, following the line already taken in the fo’c’sle.
He stared Halfhyde up and down. “Quite the gentleman. It seems it takes that rather than seamanship to get a Second Mate’s berth these days.”
“I’m no mean seaman, Mr Bullock, as you must have learned by now.”
“Not slow to praise yourself either, it appears.”
Halfhyde said, “I know my worth and have no intention of demeaning it.”
“Just put a foot wrong,” Bullock said, “and I’ll do the demeaning, don’t you worry! The Queen’s ships may be all right for those that like them, but there’s more to seamanship than spit and polish and kiss my arse. Crawlers aren’t welcome aboard any merchantman, Mister Halfhyde, as you’d do well to bear in mind.”
Halfhyde grinned. It
