Wilson, who kept watch and watch with the ship's carpenter (acting, in this respect, as chief mate, though the moment he arrived on deck he asserted himself as captain, took command, and carried out his own ideas of steering and of carrying sail, and the like, without the least regard to the views and instructions of Punch and Parfitt)—Wilson, I say, on relieving the deck after Parfitt had gone below, would look up at the sails, and then round upon the sea, as though studying the weather, then coolly sing out orders to clew up this and haul down that, paying not the least regard to the wishes of Parfitt, who, on hearing the men crying out at the ropes, would rush on deck and ask Wilson what he meant by shortening sail in the face of a high barometer; whilst through the skylight you might hear the voice of Captain Punch roaring out to know what sail the ship was carrying, and what that fellow Wilson meant by altering the course by three-quarters of a point.
We were to call at Capetown, and I had made up my mind, if heaven ever permitted us to cast anchor in Table Bay, to go ashore and represent the state of the ship to those who might be empowered to deal with the three captains; though I would sometimes think that it was doubtful whether there was any remedy within the reach of the authorities to apply, for it was certain that Punch was still in command of the ship, and next that, being in command, he had a right to entrust the charge of the vessel to the chief mate whilst he was confined below by illness, so that, despite the Rangoon authorities, Parfitt had no official representation on board, had no claim upon the obedience of Mr. Wilson, and could achieve no end by logging him or by threatening. Indeed, Parfitt seemed to have guessed as much, for often as he talked of "breaking" the mate, as he called Wilson, and sending him forward, I do not think that he ever attempted to do so, though repeatedly and sarcastically invited to the attempt by both Captain Punch and Wilson himself.
It came at last to pass that on a certain day we were supposed to be off the Cape of Good Hope. We were then exactly two months and three weeks out from Rangoon; that is to say, we had occupied eleven weeks in measuring the Indian and the Southern Oceans down to that part of the sea where we were supposed to be. I say supposed, not, as you may conclude, because the three captains, as I call them, had lost all reckoning and knew no longer where the ship was, but because the weather had been so thick for no less a period than ten days that never once was the sun, the moon, or a star to be seen, and the position, therefore, of the Biddy McDougal was wholly calculated by what is termed dead reckoning.
Dead reckoning means briefly the finding out of the speed of a ship through the water per hour by means of a contrivance called the reel log. When the speed is ascertained it is entered in the log book. Allowance is then made for what is called lee-way, if any lee-way exist, and the sum of the speed, together with the courses which may have been steered, enables the mariner to mark down upon his chart with more or less accuracy the points of latitude or longitude at which his ship has arrived.
The three captains were agreed in their dead reckoning. They could find no cause for a quarrel in the indication of the reel log. The allowance for lee-way was assented to and the courses steered were admitted, but, unhappily, the three captains had been at loggerheads over the reckoning before the thick weather came on. Captain Punch had made the ship's situation a degree or two more southerly than Mr. Wilson found it. Wilson's longitude was several leagues to the eastward of Captain Parfitt's. Hence, when the day arrived which, according to Parfitt's reckoning, should show the ship to the westwards of Agulhas, the arguments and quarrels were incessant, because Wilson swore that the ship's longitude was at least sixty miles east of that Cape, whilst Punch, on the other hand, persisted in maintaining that the latitude was not what Wilson and Parfitt represented, and that the vessel's course, therefore, required more northing.
So matters stood on a dull, heavy, thick day, as well I remember. There was a light breeze off the port bow, and a long ocean swell was sluggishly rolling up from the southward. I do not recollect that the lead was hove. Every man of the three skippers was cocksure of the ship's position on his own account, but I do not say that any one of them ever once ordered a cast of the lead to be taken. There was nothing to be seen. The sea line was shrouded by vapour to within two or three miles of the vessel. Occasionally there was a rumble of thunder in the south, but no lightning.
Thus it remained throughout the day, and throughout the day the three captains did nothing but alter one another's direc-
