The first hour of
puttin' the men to fair perished our knuckles. I've got the smashed
joints yet to show. Every sea-chest broke open, every sea-bag turned
out, and whiskey bottles, knuckle-dusters, sling-shots, bowie-knives,
an' guns chucked overside by the armful. An' when we chose the
watches, each man of fifty-six of 'em laid his knife on the main-
hatch an' the carpenter broke the point square off.-Yes, an' the
little Vampire only eight hundred tons. The Elsinore could carry her
on her deck. But she was ship, all ship, an' them was men's days."
Margaret, save for inability to sleep, did not mind the driving,
although Mr. Mellaire, on the other hand, admitted apprehension.
"He's got my goat," he confided to me. "It isn't right to drive a
cargo-carrier this way. This isn't a ballasted yacht. It's a coal-
hulk. I know what driving was, but it was in ships made to drive.
Our iron-work aloft won't stand it. Mr. Pathurst, I tell you frankly
that it is criminal, it is sheer murder, to run the Elsinore with
that crojack on her.
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