He slowly scanned the pages of the log and looked at our accounts with a searching gaze that noted every figure, dot and comma. After a time he said, "Tell me everything."
It was indeed a strange story that Roger told, and I thought that I read incredulity in the old man's eyes; but he did not interrupt the narrative from beginning to end. When it was done, he spread his great hands on the table and shot question after question, first at one of us, then at the other, indicating by his glance which he wished to answer him.
"When first did you suspect Falk?—What proof had you?—Did Captain Whidden know anything from the start?—How do you know that Falk was laying for Mr. Thomas?—Do you know the penalty for mutiny?—Do you know the penalty for piracy?—Hand out your receipts for all money paid over at Canton.—Who in thunder gave you command of my ship?—Do you appreciate the seriousness of overthrowing the lawful captain?—How in thunder did you force that paper out of Johnston?"
His vehemence and anger seemed to grow as he went on, and for twenty minutes he snapped out his questions till it seemed as if we were facing a running fire of musketry. His square, smooth-shaven chin was thrust out between his bushy side-whiskers, and his eyes shot fiercely, first at Roger, then at me.
A small swinging lantern lighted the scene. Its rays made the corners seem dark and remote. They fell on the rough features of the old merchant mariner who owned the ship and who so largely controlled our fortunes, making him seem more irascible than ever, and faded out in the early morning light that came in through the deadlights.
At last he placed his hands each on the opposite shoulder, planted his elbows on the table, and fiercely glared at us while he demanded, "Have you two young men stopped yet to think how it'll seem to be hanged?"
The lantern swung slowly during the silence that followed. The shadows swayed haltingly from side to side.
"No," cried Roger hotly, "we have not, Captain Webster. We've been too busy looking after your interests."
The scar where the case-knife had slashed his cheek so long ago stood starkly out from the dull red of his face.
At that the old man threw back his head and burst into a great guffaw of laughter. He laughed until the lantern trembled, until his chair leaned so far back that I feared he was about to fall,—or hoped he was,—until it seemed as if the echoes must come booming back from the farthest shore.