“You’ll get your cargo in good time.”
“We found some of the boxes in the hold,” Jack said. “They were marked for our expedition. But they didn’t contain our equipment.”
“So you opened ’em?”
“We certainly did,” War cut in, enjoying the captain’s consternation. “They contained guns and ammunition—that’s what!”
“Why, you blithering little sneaks!” the captain muttered.
“Maybe you can explain it,” Jack said quietly.
“I’ll explain nothing! Get off this vessel and stay clear! You hear me! Get off!”
“We want our equipment. Mr. Livingston—”
“Mr. Livingston—” Captain Carter mocked. “Mr. Livingston! I’m so sick of that name I could vomit! I’m sick of all you meddling, stupid little boys. You call yourselves Rovers—Explorers! One night in the hills and you’ll be whimpering for your mothers. One flurry of poisoned Indian arrows and you’ll come flying back to Cuertos crying for your morning milk!”
The seaman’s words infuriated the Scouts. War’s fists clenched tightly and he began to stammer: “Why, you-y-you—”