A hungry crowd of shipwrights sharpened their chisels
at the sight of that carcass of a ship. And, by Jove! they had pretty
pickings off us before they were done. I fancy the owner was already in
a tight place. There were delays. Then it was decided to take part
of the cargo out and calk her topsides. This was done, the repairs
finished, cargo re-shipped; a new crew came on board, and we went
out--for Bankok. At the end of a week we were back again. The crew said
they weren't going to Bankok--a hundred and fifty days' passage--in a
something hooker that wanted pumping eight hours out of the twenty-four;
and the nautical papers inserted again the little paragraph: _'Judea_.
Barque. Tyne to Bankok; coals; put back to Falmouth leaky and with crew
refusing duty.'
"There were more delays--more tinkering. The owner came down for a day,
and said she was as right as a little fiddle. Poor old Captain Beard
looked like the ghost of a Geordie skipper--through the worry and
humiliation of it. Remember he was sixty, and it was his first command.
Mahon said it was a foolish business, and would end badly. I loved the
ship more than ever, and wanted awfully to get to Bankok. To Bankok!
Magic name, blessed name. Mesopotamia wasn't a patch on it. Remember I
was twenty, and it was my first second mate's billet, and the East was
waiting for me.
"We went out and anchored in the outer roads with a fresh crew--the
third. She leaked worse than ever.
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