But even before the Good Intent made the Channel he was woefully
undeceived. His first interview with the captain opened his eyes. Captain
Barker was a small, thin, sandy man, with a large upper lip that met the
lower in a straight line, a lean nose, and eyes perpetually bloodshot.
His manner was that of a bully of the most brutal kind. He browbeat his
officers, cuffed and kicked his men, in his best days a martinet, in his
worst a madman. The only good point about him was that he never used the
cat, which, as Bulger said, was a mercy.
"Humph!" he said when Desmond was presented to him. "You're him, are you?
Well, let me tell you this, my lad: the ship's boy on board this 'ere
ship have got to do what he's bid, and no mistake about it. If he don't,
I'll make him. Now, you go for'ard into the galley and scrape the slush
off the cook's pans; quick's the word."
From that day Desmond led a dog's life. He found that as ship's boy he
was at the beck and call of the whole company. The officers, with the
exception of Mr. Toley, the melancholy first mate, took their cue from
the captain; and Mr. Toley, as a matter of policy, never took his part
openly. The men resented his superior manners and the fact that he was
socially above them. The majority of the seamen were even more ruffianly
than the specimens he had seen at the Waterman's Rest--the scum of
Wapping and Rotherhithe. His only real friend on board was Bulger, who
helped him to master the many details of a sailor's work, and often
protected him against the ill treatment of his mates; and, in spite of
his one arm, Bulger was a power to be reckoned with.
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