The Captain’s smile upon his son became terrible; but when he turned to the men, his voice was level and without emotion. “There’s no reason you should not go,” he said, and they cheered. “Except that I’ll not let you!” he added grimly. “Get forward, you swipes. And look sharp.”
They hesitated an instant, even then, in stupefaction at the overthrow of their sudden hopes; then they fell to mumbling among themselves. Dan Darrin took a step forward to his Captain’s side, as though to support him; but Black Pawl needed no help to enforce his orders.
“Sharp, I say!” he cried cheerfully, and he leaped among them, his long arms flailing. He struck with the open hand, but those whom he struck fell; and others fell in their flurry to escape him. In a matter of seconds the deck was clear to the try-works, save for the harpooners by the starboard rail, who laughed at the crew’s discomfiture. Once safely forward, the men grinned too. Black Pawl had the strange faculty of commanding a liking even from those over whom he tyrannized. When he came aft, his eye lighted on his son, and he asked gently:
“Now, was that not unreasonable despotism?”
Red Pawl replied sullenly: “Yes.”
His father’s eyes twinkled. “Louder,” he enjoined, “—so that your audience, yonder, may hear.” And he asked again: “Was not that brutal tyranny?”
His son’s eyes blazed morosely now. “Yes, brutal, and be damned to you!” he bellowed; and his voice carried the length of the schooner.
“So!” said Black Pawl. “You’ve got the effect you were after—my son. You’re the hero, defending them against my unjust fists. Be satisfied!”
The son gave the father eye for eye. “You’re a brave man—and a damned rash man,” he said.
“Fiddle!” Black Pawl replied. “If you mean what you seem to mean, and if you had the sap of a man, you’d strike now. You’ll never make an omelet, Red, my boy. You’re too squeamish about breaking eggs.”