At Haskett's concluding remark Walter's face grew as red as a beet, then deadly pale. For a moment he stood stock still, breathing heavily. Suddenly he leaped forward with clenched fist and struck Haskett a stunning blow on the chin which sent the seaman staggering up against a gun-carriage.
"That, for talking to me in this fashion!" he exclaimed.
"Oh!" grunted the ex-mate of the Sunflower, as he caught at the gun just in time to prevent himself from falling to the deck. "You—you young rascal, what do you mean by hitting me?"
"A fight! a fight!" cried several, and soon a crowd of about fifty jackies surrounded the pair.
"Wasn't that a pretty blow though! And he's only a boy, too!" came from a gunner's mate.
"I'll fix you for this!" went on Haskett, putting one hand to his chin, where a lump was rising rapidly. "I never before allowed anybody to hit me—leastwise a boy." And he rushed at Walter with a fierceness which boded the youth no good.
"Don't you hit him, Haskett," put in Caleb, catching the seaman by the arm. "If you do, you'll have to settle this affair with me."
"He hit me."
"And you as much as said he was a thief."
"And so he is."