Except for a deep groan Pedro took no notice. At this the mate seized him by his shirt-collar and dragged him on to his feet.
For a moment the poor wretch swayed tottering, and then, with a great effort, collected his strength and retained his equilibrium.
"Oh, yew can stand, hey? Wall, neow, suppose yew walk forrard into thet bosun's locker."
Unsteadily Pedro lurched forward, dragging himself along slowly, followed by the bucko dangling the handcuffs.
The bosun's locker was small, and there was hardly room for the mate and his victim besides the dead man on the shelf; and as Black Davis entered, the miserable Chilian backed up against the bulkhead in doubt as to what was going to happen next.
"Hold out y'r hand," commanded the mate; and as Pedro obeyed, he snapped the handcuff on it; the other he slowly clasped upon the wrist of the dead bucko, whilst Pinto and Jimmy Green, standing hesitating what to do, watched him with eyes of horror from the doorway.
"I'll just see how yew like a night o' that, chained to a stiff of y'r own killing," said the demon, with a fiendish chuckle. "Wall, yew've got better company than yew ever had before. A pleasant night to yew!" and he retired, locking the door after him.
The bosun was now put at the head of the starboard watch, and the routine of the ship once more continued on its normal course.
Shifting sail was again in full swing, but the men worked listlessly in deadly silence; there was no chantying on the gantline, and they pulled and hauled without even the usual hee-hawing.