The captain brandished the knife threateningly.
"Put up that skewer," said the mate, contemptuously. "I'm not a boy."
The only reply which Diaz made to this defiant and somewhat irritating speech was to aim a blow at the speaker.
But Boston Charley, with the rapidity of lightning, drew a pistol from his pocket and sent a bullet through the fleshy part of the captain's right arm.
The knife fell from his grasp, and the injured limb hung uselessly by his side, while its owner reeled against the mast.
"I'll have a terrible revenge for this!" hissed the captain between his teeth.
Boston Charley paid no further attention to him.
The boat had been lowered, and while the altercation was going on the sailors had picked up both Tommy and the wounded boy.
They were just in time, for Tommy was nearly exhausted.
When Bobsey was laid on the deck Tommy bent over him, peering curiously into his face.