The Knight - Chapter 6 A Moonless Night, Thick With Stars Above, Very Dark On The Water

In the mess-room Powell found Mr. Franklin hacking at a piece of cold
salt beef with a table knife. The mate, fiery in the face and rolling
his eyes over that task, explained that the carver belonging to the mess-
room could not be found. The steward, present also, complained savagely
of the cook. The fellow got things into his galley and then lost them.
Mr. Franklin tried to pacify him with mournful firmness.

"There, there! That will do. We who have been all these years together
in the ship have other things to think about than quarrelling among
ourselves."

Mr. Powell thought with exasperation: "Here he goes again," for this
utterance had nothing cryptic for him. The steward having withdrawn
morosely, he was not surprised to hear the mate strike the usual note.
That morning the mizzen topsail tie had carried away (probably a
defective link) and something like forty feet of chain and wire-rope,
mixed up with a few heavy iron blocks, had crashed down from aloft on the
poop with a terrifying racket.

"Did you notice the captain then, Mr. Powell. Did you notice?"

Powell confessed frankly that he was too scared himself when all that lot
of gear came down on deck to notice anything.

"The gin-block missed his head by an inch," went on the mate
impressively. "I wasn't three feet from him. And what did he do? Did
he shout, or jump, or even look aloft to see if the yard wasn't coming
down too about our ears in a dozen pieces? It's a marvel it didn't. No,
he just stopped short--no wonder; he must have felt the wind of that iron
gin-block on his face--looked down at it, there, lying close to his
foot--and went on again. I believe he didn't even blink. It isn't
natural. The man is stupefied."