A great surprise was in store for me. I knew that Captain Count
was favourably inclined towards me, for he had himself told me
so, but nothing was further from my thoughts than promotion.
However, one Sunday afternoon, when we were all peacefully
enjoying the unusual rest (we had no Sundays in Captain Slocum's
time), the captain sent for me. He informed me that, after
mature consideration, he had chosen me to fill the vacancy made
by the death of Mistah Jones. Mr. Cruce was now mate; the
waspish little third had become second; Louis Silva, the
captain's favourite harpooner was third; and I was to be fourth.
Not feeling at all sure of how the other harpooners would take my
stepping over their heads, I respectfully demurred to the
compliment offered me, stating my reasons. But the captain said
he had fully made up his mind, after consultation with the other
officers, and that I need have no apprehension on the score of
the harpooners' jealousy; that they had been spoken to on the
subject, and they were all agreed that the captain's choice was
the best, especially as none of them knew anything of navigation,
or could write their own names.
In consequence of there being none of the crew fit to take a
harpooner's place, I was now really harpooner of the captain's
boat, which he would continue to work, when necessary, until we
were able to ship a harpooner, which he hoped to do at Hawaii.
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