XVII
THE story of that battle upon the tumbling decks of the Nathan Ross was to be told and re-told at many a gam upon the whaling grounds. It was such a story as strong men love; a story of overwhelming odds, of epic combat, of splendid death where blood ran hot and strong....
There were a full score of men in the group that came aft toward Joel. And as they came, others, running from the fo’c’s’le and dropping from the rigging, joined them. Every man was drunk with the vision of wealth that he had built upon Mark Shore’s story. The thing had grown and grown in the telling; it had fattened on the greed native in the men; and it was a monstrous thing now, and one that would not be denied.... The men, as they moved aft, made grumbling sounds with their half-caught breath; and these sounds blended into a roaring growl like the growl of a beast.
To face these men stood Joel. For an instant, he was alone. Then, without word, old Aaron took his stand beside his captain. Aaron held gripped in both hands an adze. Its edge was sharp enough to slice hard wood like cheese.... And at Joel’s other side, the cook. A round man, with greasy traces of his craft upon his countenance. He carried a heavy cleaver. There is an ancient feud between galley and fo’c’s’le; and the men greeting the cook’s coming with a hungry cry of delight....
Joel glanced at these new allies, and saw their weapons. He took the adze from Aaron, the cleaver from the other; and he turned and hurled them behind him, over the rail. And in the moment’s silence that followed on this action, he called to the men:
“Go back to your places.”
They growled at him; they were wordless, but they knew the thing they desired. The cook complained at Joel’s elbow: “I could use that cleaver.”
“I’ll not have blood spilled,” Joel told him. “If there’s fighting, it will be with fists....”
And Mark touched Joel lightly on the shoulder, and took his place beside him. He was smiling, a twisted smile above the swollen lump upon his jaw. He said lightly: “If it’s fists, Joel—I think I’m safest to fight beside you.”
Joel looked up at him with a swift glance, and he brushed his hand across his eyes, and nodded. “I counted on that, Mark—in the last, long run,” he said. Mark gripped his arm and pressed it; and in that moment the long, unspoken enmity between the brothers died forever. They faced the men....