Nothing could keep him away from the pious work of visiting the sick,
especially when there was some heavy hauling to be done on deck. Mr.
Baker had on two occasions jerked him out from there by the scruff
of the neck to our inexpressible scandal. Was a sick chap to be
left without attendance? Were we to be ill-used for attending a
shipmate?--"What?" growled Mr. Baker, turning menacingly at the mutter,
and the whole half-circle like one man stepped back a pace. "Set the
topmast stunsail. Away aloft, Donkin, overhaul the gear," ordered the
mate inflexibly. "Fetch the sail along; bend the down-haul clear. Bear
a hand." Then, the sail set, he would go slowly aft and stand looking at
the compass for a long time, careworn, pensive, and breathing hard as if
stifled by the taint of unaccountable ill-will that pervaded the ship.
"What's up amongst them?" he thought. "Can't make out this hanging back
and growling. A good crowd, too, as they go nowadays." On deck the
men exchanged bitter words, suggested by a silly exasperation against
something unjust and irremediable that would not be denied, and would
whisper into their ears long after Donkin had ceased speaking.
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