When he finished his shift, his hands were bleeding in places and raw in the palms.
As he came on deck, he tied them up with bits of soft waste in lieu of a bandage and made no complaint, yet his fingers were trembling when he ate supper that night.

He caught the eyes of the rest of the crew studying him with a cold calculation.

They were estimating the strength of his endurance and he knew at once that they had been through the same trial one by one until they were broken.
He could see that they hated the captain and he wondered why they would ship with him time and again.

He watched their expressions when Black McTee was mentioned, and then he understood.

They were waiting for the time when the captain should weaken.