The night was a long and weary one--longer and drearier perhaps
because of the absence of the darkness, which always made it
harder to sleep. An incessant day soon becomes, to those
accustomed to the relief of the night, a burden grievous to be
borne; and although use can reconcile us to most things, and does
make even the persistent light bearable, in times of mental
distress or great physical weariness one feels irresistibly moved
to cry earnestly, "Come, gentle night."
When I came on deck at eight bells, it was a stark calm. The
watch, under Mistah Jones' direction, were busy scrubbing decks
with the usual thoroughness, while the captain, bare-footed, with
trouser-legs and shirt-sleeves rolled up, his hands on his hips
and a portentous frown on his brow, was closely looking on. As
it was my spell at the crow's-nest, I made at once for the main-
rigging, and had got halfway to the top, when some unusual sounds
below arrested me.
All hands were gathered in the waist, a not unusual thing at the
changing of the watch. In the midst of them, as I looked down,
two men came together in a fierce struggle. They were Goliath
and the skipper. Captain Slocum's right hand went naturally to
his hip pocket, where he always carried a revolver; but before he
could draw it, the long, black arms of his adversary wrapped
around him, making him helpless as a babe.
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