"P'raps thet'll learn yew who's mate o' this ship, yew knifing beast; ther's one fer the second mate an' two fer me, 'count of all the trouble y've given me."
The miserable Pedro now broke out into low moans.
"Hm! Just like er dago! Cuts er man up an' then whines," went on the bucko, as he picked up the handcuffs off the hatch; then for a moment he stood hesitating, evidently turning something over in his mind.
Meanwhile the bosun had all hands busily engaged bending the main course. As the sail was stretched and the rovings passed, a subdued muttering went on, which in the present ugly humour of the men the bosun wisely took no notice of.
Presently there was a hail from the deck.
"Bosun, send me down er couple er them jailbirds o' yours."
A low, sibilant hiss of deadly venom ran along the yard at the sound of the mate's voice.
"Hm!" thought the bosun as he listened, "there's some of 'em pretty near ready for a word spelt with a big M."
He scanned the men on the yard for a moment in silence, and then carefully picked out two harmless ones.
"Pinto an' you, Green, get down on deck an' see what the mate wants."