With that C. B. released him and he staggered to his feet, all his crew looking on at his discomfiture. If there be a greater punishment for a man than he then endured without possibility of retaliation I do not know of it. He had no second revolver, or he would assuredly have gone and loaded it and laid for C. B., and shot him from some secure hiding-place, after the most approved American methods. He staggered into his cabin, shouted for his steward, and when that trembler appeared, he said—
“Go an’ get a revolver from either Mr. Haynes’ cabin or Mr. Fisher’s (the second mate), I don’t care which; but get me one or I’ll smash yer face in.”
The steward fled on deck and, seeing the mate, almost screamed—
“Oh, Mr. Haynes, the skipper wants yer revolver, says he’ll kill me if I don’t get it for him. I believe he’s gone mad. Oh dear, oh dear, whatever I’ll do I don’t know.”
The mate’s face darkened, and, turning contemptuously away from the steward, he went below and rapped sharply at the skipper’s stateroom door.
“Come in,” was snapped at him, and pushing back the door he looked in at the skipper, who was standing like a wolf at bay.
“What you want?” he snarled, and the mate replied—
“I understand you sent the steward to search my room for my revolver. Now see here, what’s in that room’s mine, and don’t you dare to meddle with it or there’ll be bigger trouble than you want. I’m at your service on deck, but my room’s mine and no man’s coming into it without my leave.” With that the mate turned on his heel and made for the deck again.
Now although the atmosphere seemed surcharged with electricity nothing happened. Stewart and his daughter both implored C. B. to be very wary and careful of the skipper, but he smiled placidly as usual, and replied that a greater care than he could exercise was being manifested for all of them: and went on his usual way.