Gering had the power of inspiring his men, and
Phips was a martinet and was therefore obeyed; but the lifeless days and
unrewarded labour worked on the men, and at last the divers shirked their
task.
Meanwhile, Bucklaw was fighting hard for life.
As time passed, the flush of expectancy waned; the heat was great, the
waiting seemed endless. Adventure was needed for the spirits of the men,
and of this now there was nothing. Morning after morning the sun rose in
a moist, heavy atmosphere; day after day went in a quest which became
dreary, and night after night settled upon discontent. Then came
threats. But this was chiefly upon the Bridgwater Merchant. Phips had
picked up his sailors in English ports, and nearly all of them were
brutal adventurers. They were men used to desperate enterprises,
and they had flocked to him because they smelled excitement and booty.
Of ordinary merchant seamen there were only a few. When the Duke of
Albemarle had come aboard at Plymouth before they set sail, he had
shrugged his shoulders at the motley crew. To his hint Phips had only
replied with a laugh: these harum-scarum scamps were more to his mind
than ordinary seamen. At heart he himself was half-barbarian. It is
possible he felt there might some time be a tug-of-war on board, but he
did not borrow trouble. Bucklaw had endorsed every man that he had
chosen; indeed, Phips knew that many of them were old friends of Bucklaw.
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