"Try and see," said Frank grimly.
"Do you think I'm afraid of you?" cried Stanley. "I'll show you!"
With these words, he took a sudden step backward, and Jack was able to see the cause of all the trouble. Crouching between two sailors was an old native, black of color and grizzled of hair. Stanley doubled his fist, and before a hand could be raised to stop him, drove it between the old native's eyes.
Jack sprang forward with a cry, but Frank forestalled him. He leaped upon the perpetrator of this inhuman act, and with a quick blow knocked him to the ground.
Stanley rose with blood on his lips and evil in his eye. Quickly he stepped back a pace, and a revolver glinted in his hand.
"You—you—" he stuttered.
At that moment the revolver was twisted violently from his grasp, and, turning, Stanley looked into Jack's angry countenance.
"What's the meaning of this?" Jack demanded. "Would you become a murderer?"
"He struck me," shouted Stanley angrily, "and he shall give me satisfaction, and so shall you, you meddling upstart."
"So?" said Jack quietly. "What kind of satisfaction do you want?
I'm perfectly ready to accommodate you."