“Them there gutter snipes!” replied the old whaleman. “Said this here was a salvage job an’ wouldn’t stir hand nor foot lessen we give ’em half the valer o’ the Narwhal’s cargo. I swan, I never heered o’ sech a thing. Never knowed a whaleman t’ talk o’ salvage. That’s what comes o’ these here unions an’ new-fangled idees.”
“Hello!” cried Captain Edwards, who now joined the group with Mike and the other members of the Narwhal’s company behind him. “See you’ve brought reënforcements, boys. Glad you’re here, officers.”
“Understand you’ve a mutiny aboard,” said the Sergeant.
“Not my ship,” replied the captain, “that’s the trouble. We could rush ’em but they’ve got their skipper an’ mates there and she’s a British ship and I don’t know how far we Yankees could go.”
“Got any guns?” snapped out Manley.
“’Bout a dozen,” Captain Edwards assured him.
“Plenty!” declared the Sergeant. “Get your best men together, give them the guns, and I’ll take charge. Campbell, get the kayaks ready.”
Throwing off his mackinaw, Sergeant Manley strode forward, uttered sharp, crisp orders and with twelve of the Narwhal’s crew, including Nate, one-eyed Ned, Swanson, and Mr. Kemp, he marched to the waiting kayaks, ordering the men to shoot and shoot to kill if he gave the word. With ready carbine he stepped into a canoe. Behind him came the little flotilla. Instantly all was excitement on the decks of the brigantine. Men ran here and there. One or two leaped into the rigging, and the watching boys saw the flash of steel, and the glint of gun barrels.
“Golly, they’re going to fight!” exclaimed Jim.
“B’jabbers thin ’twill be a sorry day for thim!” declared Mike. “’Tis the King’s constabulary they do be afther resistin’, bad cess to thim.”