Jube kept his eyes bent to the deck, that no one might mark the ferocious hate that burned in them—hate that re-strung his nerves, and made them tough as iron.
"You'll learn to threaten me!" said the captain, scoffing at the negro, as he passed.
Jube did not lift his eyes, but passed on. Paul arose and followed.
"Hallo! what is the youngster after?" cried Thrasher.
"I want to go with Jube," said the boy, shuddering under the captain's eye.
"You want to go with Jube, ha!" cried the mate, mocking the gentle tones, which might have won pity from a Nero. "Well, you won't go with Jube, do you hear that? I aint likely to give up cook and cabin-boy, too, so just march for the caboose."
Rice turned back, leaving Jube near the gangway. "Look a here, captain," he said, in a low voice. "Don't put upon that little shaver so! It's too bad; he's a peaked child, just out of his mother's lap, and this ere sort of work will kill him sure as a gun."
"Well, if it does, Rice, what's the loss?"
"Wal, it'd be a good deal to me, anyhow. I've sort a took a shine to the boy."
"That's unfortunate," sneered the mate, "because I, being commander here, have just done the other thing."