"I'm not afraid of you. You can kill me. You've got the physical strength to do it, although if I were not so sick, there might be an argument as to that; so you might as well quit bullying me. Oh, yes, I have no doubt but what you could knock me over again, but I'll die fighting."
His hand clenched a belaying pin. He drew it out and lifted it up.
"Mr. Woywod," the captain's voice came from aft, "is that man givin' you any trouble again?"
"I can deal with him, sir."
"Send him aft to me."
Of course, Woywod could not disobey so direct an order. He had no relish for it, but there was no help for it. Beekman himself took action. He shoved past the mate, who, under the circumstances, did not dare to hit him, and made his way staggering along the deck to the bridge, where the mate followed him. Two or three of the crew came aft, but the mate drove them forward with curses and oaths.
"Young man," said the captain, an old man of short stature, but immensely broad shouldered and powerful, "do you know what mutiny is?"
"I certainly do."
"Oh, you've been to sea before, have you?"
"Many times."