"Which means to say that I am not a gentleman and not honest!" bellowed Captain Barusky. "That, for your opinion!" And reaching out he gave Ben a ringing box on the ear.
It was the last straw. With no fresh air and no food fit to eat, the young captain was desperate, and leaping forward he struck at the Russian captain's nose. His fist went true, and as Barusky staggered back against the pen door the blood spurted from his nasal organ.
"Don't you dare to hit me again!" panted Ben, standing before the Russian with both hands clenched. "Don't you dare—or you'll get the worst of it!"
His manner made Captain Barusky cower back, and he glared at Ben with the ferocity of a wild beast. Then he called to the guard.
"Run for aid, Petrovitch," he said. "The prisoner has attacked me. He is a beast, and must be chained up."
The man addressed summoned three other sailors and the captain of the ship's guard. All came into the pen and forced Ben into a corner.
"The Yankee dog!" said the captain of the guard. "To dare to strike a Russian officer! Bring the chains at once!"
Chains were brought, and soon Ben was bound hands and feet, with links that weighed several pounds. Then a large staple was driven into one of the uprights of the pen and he was fastened to this with a padlock.
"Now place him on half-rations," said Captain Barusky. "It is the only way to tame him." And then he hurried away to bathe his nose, which was swelling rapidly.
If Ben had been miserable before he was doubly so now. The chains were cumbersome and cut into his flesh, and being fastened to the upright he could scarcely move a foot either way. To add to his misery the front of the pen was boarded over, so that what little light had been admitted to his prison was cut off.