Mr. Bucko Davis turned back to his work in no very sweet frame of mind.
The body of the second mate had been placed on the main-hatch, and alongside it was laid the senseless form of Pedro.
"Hyeh, boy!" growled the mate to the kid, who was at work outside the galley, peeling potatoes for the cabin dinner. "Git er bucket er water an' see if yew can't wake thet dago up."
The boy drew a bucket over the side, and then, with shaking hands, tilted it gently over the face of the South American; but with his big brown eyes dilating with fright, the kid went very gingerly to work.
"Thet won't do, thet won't do," grunted Black Davis. "Give it ter me! Can't yew throw water yet?"
Seizing the bucket, with a true bosun's swing the mate hove the water over the unconscious man, with such skill that not one square inch of him from head to heel escaped the deluge.
"More water! more water! Neow then, jump around lively," called the angry demon impatiently.
With the sousing the mate gave him, Pedro could only do one of two things, either lie there and be drowned or come to his senses.
This latter he proceeded to do whilst the kid was drawing a fourth bucketful.
"Thought thet'd rouse the skunk," commented Black Davis; then, grabbing hold of the wretched man by the scruff of his neck, he dragged him off the hatch, and, dropping him on the deck, gave him three terrific kicks over the ribs.