Franz deliberately shirked.  And, as far as I could see, he purposely got in bad with the mates, under whom he had approximately sixty days more of pulling and hauling, going up aloft, scrubbing, and chipping to do.  I was puzzled at the steadfast, deliberate malingering of the man.  The crew all hated him, too.  I have seen the man at the wheel deliberately deflect the ship from its course, in order to bring the wind against the mutineer’s belly, hoping to have him blown overboard while he was running aloft....

And one night, in the forecastle, someone hurled a shoe at him.  A blow so savagely well-aimed, that when he came running aft, howling with pain (for, for all his obstinacy, he seemed to lack courage)—­to complain of the outrage, to Schantze—­his eye popped out so far that it seemed as if leaping out of its socket!  It was ghastly and bloody like a butchered heart.

Later, I asked the sailors why this had been done to Franz.  And Klumpf said—­

“We had a scuffle over something.  We were all taking it friendly ... and Franz bit Klaus through the hand, almost ... then someone threw a shoe and hit him in the eye"....

* * * * *

In about a week, after his eye had healed just a little, I drew Franz apart.  We sat down together on the main hatch.  I was worried about him.  I did not understand him.  I was sorry for him.

“Look here, Franz ... don’t you know you might get put clean out of business if you keep this mutiny of one up much longer?  You can’t whip a whole ship’s crew.”

“I don’t want to whip a whole ship’s crew.”

“The captain had to have another man in a hurry, you know ... but he’s really willing to give you decent treatment.”

“Did the captain send you to tell me this?”

“Of course not ... only I’m sorry for you.”

Franz gave me a broad, inexplicable wink.  He smiled grotesquely—­from swollen lips made more grotesque because of a recent punch in the mouth “Sailmaker” had fetched him....

“Don’t trouble yourself about me.  I know what I’m doing, my boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that, as soon as I came out of my drunk, and found myself shanghaied, I wanted them to ill-treat me ... there’s a Sailors’ Aid Society at Sydney, you know!”

“What good will the Sailors’ Aid Society do you?”

“You just wait and see what good it will do me!”

“Nonsense, Franz!  The captain’s willing to pay you off at Sydney.”

“Pay me off, eh?  Yes, and the old boy will pay me handsome damages, too!... the sentimental old ladies that have nothing else to do but befriend the poor abused sailor, will see to it that I find justice in the courts there.”

“You have a good case against the captain as it is, then.  Why don’t you turn to and behave and be treated decently?”

“No,” he replied, with a curious note of strength in his voice, “the worse I’m treated the more damages I can collect.  I’m going to make it a real case of brutal treatment before I leave this old tub.”