“What business you got buttin’ into this, anyway?”
Jordan pointed to the flag.
“This is a patch of American soil right in the middle of a foreign country,” said he. “That flag is yours and mine, and I’m here to adjust just such differences as this between my fellow countrymen. Bob Steele is captain of the Grampus, and you’ve heard his orders. If you and Fingal don’t clear out, I’ll call a policeman and have the pair of you taken to the lockup.”
Fingal edged away toward the veranda steps. As he drew close to Cassidy, he muttered something. The mate gave a thick response, and the two lurched down the steps and out of sight along the walk.
“Fingal,” said Jordan, after watching the two out of sight, “is setting the mate up to act as he’s doing. His influence is bad, particularly as the mate appears to be a good deal of a numskull without much reasoning ability of his own.”
“He has always been a first-rate hand,” returned Bob regretfully, “up in his duties and entirely reliable. This sudden move of his is one of the biggest surprises I ever had sprung on me.”
“That’s the way with some people. Give ’em the idea that they’ve been imposed on, and they’re just weak enough in the head to make all sorts of trouble. If you’ve got the rest of the crew with you, though, it will be easy enough to take care of Cassidy. However, if he wanted to he could make lots of trouble for this expedition.”
“I’ll see that he doesn’t do that. If he shows a disposition along that line, I’ll have him locked in the torpedo room. Why he ever came here and set upon me like he did, is a mystery. I guess it was because he was too drunk to know what he was doing.”
“That’s an easy way to explain it,” was the consul’s sarcastic comment. “On the other hand, he may have come here with the expectation of doing something to you that would make it necessary for you to be left in Belize with Captain Nemo, junior.”