I then proceeded to see that all
the sails were properly trimmed. This being done, I went on
to the poop again, and as the helmsman was steering in a
most erratic fashion, first sailing her bang off the wind
and then shaking the sails almost aback, I remonstrated with
him, but to no purpose. At last I said to him that if he did
not steer better, I would be obliged to turn him from the
wheel. No greater disgrace can be inflicted on a
self-respecting seaman than this. I have known men suffer an
agony by the mere threat of it. But the heterogeneous crew
that we had to control had no sensitiveness of that kind. I
was told, amid a running stream of filthy swearing, to take
the wheel myself. The ship and all in authority were cursed
with Hibernian fluency. A special appeal was made for our
immediate consignment to the hottest part of hell. The
harangue was suddenly cut short by my jumping from the poop
on top of him as he was about to pass away from the helm. I
had ordered a hand whom I could trust to steer, while I
became engaged in physically reproving this blackguard for
his insolence and disobedience to lawful commands.
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