"What is that little beast's name?" he demanded of the ship's corporal.
"Bill Jordun, sir," replied the man, touching his cap several times, to show his profound humility.
"Come here, you little hound. How dare you desert? I'll have you flogged over the breech of a gun, you son of a dog! Do you hear me—curse you?" exclaimed the first lieutenant.
"I can hear you, sir."
"Then why don't you answer me, you vermin?"
The boy bit his lips, and swallowed the insult; determined not to irritate his tyrant by replying; but upon glancing up, and seeing the sneering look of Crushe directed towards him, as if he were dirt beneath his feet, he fearlessly observed,
"I didn't answer, as you didn't give me a chance—'sides, I don't want to be killed, like Dunstable was. I ain't afraid of you, though, although I knows my life ain't worth much in your eyes."
"Stop! you mutinous little blackguard, you shall get your deserts. I wish to Heaven I could give you four dozen. Ship's corporal, take the little beast down below."
The boy, now driven to desperation, replied in a mocking way,
"Yes! take him below, take him down below—that's what the devil will do to you some day—see if he don't."