On that, Ouvery raised his clenched fist to strike me down. “You barking cur,” cried he, “do you meddle with my orders? I’ll have you clapt in irons! I’ll flay you to the bone! I’ll——”
“Belike you’re captain of the ship,” said I, flouting him; “I thought my brother was captain.”
Ouvery sat still, all swollen with rage; but hereupon up spoke a seaman, saying stoutly:
“Maybe the boy’s in the right. Ho! make way here!” He climbed over into the cock-boat as he spoke, and soon had confirmed my words.
But Ouvery rose up like one possessed; and, drawing his knife, he reached forth to have stabbed me. But the boat began to rock nigh foundering; and, losing his footing, he fell, knocking his head against an oar that was outboard, and slid over into the sea. They fished him out ere he sank, and flung him like a log in the bottom of the boat, where he lay stunned.
Hereupon, having made the cock-boat fast to our stern, we returned to the ship. My brother stood at the gang-way, awaiting us; I acquainted him with what had befallen, demanding that Ouvery should be restrained. But he regarded me not at all.
They contrived a bed for the Indian in the forecastle, but the other was installed in the master’s cabin beneath the poop, where I slept, some bedding being laid for me on the floor. Tended by Surgeon Burke, and cared for by the mariners, the Indian made a quick recovery; but the other lay as one dead, being fallen into a sort of coma or trance.
The Indian came out of his swoon about sundown. Dick, Burke, and I stood beside his bed, when the poor man, on a sudden, stirred and opened his eyes. He looked from one to another of us wildly; and moved his lips as if he would speak. At this juncture, heavy and uncertain footfalls were heard without, and Ouvery came lumbering in, his face mottled red and purple. He approached; but, on sight of him, the Indian stared aghast, stretched forth an arm with a fierce, frenzied gesture, uttered a cry, and sank back beside his senses.
“Why, he knoweth him!” cried I. “He hath seen you before, Ouvery! If he could speak, I warrant you’d stand proclaimed a black villain!”
I was out of myself with passion, and I knew not what I said. But the Quartermaster was transported with fury, and, rasping out horrid oaths, he drew a pistol from his belt and let fly at me. The ball missed my head by a hair’s breadth, and was buried in the wooden wall. Ouvery made a dash towards me, reeled, and lurched forward upon the floor. There he lay stunned, having knocked his head against the table-leg.