"Must," answered the sailor.
"Must," repeated the mate, with a gleam in his side glance.
"Must," repeated Rice, settling his garments afresh.
The mate hesitated awhile, eyeing the sailor askance, but Rice stood solidly on the deck, looking him in the face as if certain of his answer.
"Very well, pass the order. Remember, I let off a dozen lashes, and give him irons, with bread and water, in exchange. Make that well understood."
"Aye, aye, never you fear," was the prompt reply.
"As for this imp of Satan," said the mate, spurning the prostrate boy lightly with his foot, "I'll deal with him."
"Don't do that, Mr. Thrasher; you've struck that ere child once too often. Try it agin, and there ain't a man on board this 'ere brig as won't rise agin you."
"Indeed!" said Thrasher, closing his teeth hard, "and you——"
"I'll head 'em, and take you home in irons."