The red sweater pocketed a note the captain handed him, went over the side of the schooner and rowed off.
Frank gazed about the schooner. Several dirty sailors, fully as evil looking as the captain, were working about the deck. Apparently they were foreigners. The captain appeared to be an American.
The captain, Harwood by name, turned to Frank.
“Get forward,” he commanded.
Frank drew himself up.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he exclaimed. “I demand to be put ashore.”
“Is that so,” sneered the big captain; “and why do you suppose I went to all this trouble to get you here, huh? Now you listen to me. I’m captain of this here tub, and what I say goes. Get forward!”
Still Frank stood still.
“Look here,” he began, “I——”
The captain knocked him down with a single blow of his great fist, and kicked his prostrate form. Then he picked him up, caught him by the neck and the slack of his coat and ran him forward to the hatchway, and flung him below.