For all that, he straightened his face in half a second, and turned to Hogg as calm as the sea itself.
"I'll settle with you in a moment," said he. "I've not lived more than half my life without learning how to deal with a buck nigger who's three parts tipsy. Bo's'n," said he to Rushby, pointing straight at me, "put that boy in irons."
Rushby never moved.
"Did you hear my orders?" rapped out Amos.
"I heard right enough," said the boatswain. "But I'm not here to take orders from you."
At that, the crew, who had gathered round, thinking that Rushby was with them, became bolder than ever. Knives were drawn from belts, and one of these was flourished in the face of the captain who still lay upon the deck, bound hand and foot.
"Ho!" cried Amos. "So that's your tune, is it? I see you must all be taught a lesson."
He talked with all the confidence in the world, though--with the exception of Mr. Gilbert Forsyth, who had just strolled on deck with both hands in his trouser pockets--there was no one at his back, and he faced a crowd of angry, drunken seamen who would not then have stopped short of murder.
From Rushby he turned once more to Hogg. "And so," said he, "you claim to be the captain of this ship?"
The negro glanced in his direction, but would not meet those cruel, steadfast eyes.