“Young man, I know that you are perfectly in the right, that your conduct in the matter is above reproach, but—you are not indispensable to the business and the man you are in conflict with is. Therefore if he makes the condition that either you or he must go, you will have to go, or hold a candle to the devil.”
I am quoting the exact words, for they seared my soul, and I swore then that at whatever cost I would not do the same mean unrighteous thing: I would rather let the devil have the business than hold a candle to him in that way.
The outcome of the captain’s white night was that he arose in the morning determined to do the right thing no matter what the personal loss might be. And besides there was just the chance that C. B. might die—another diabolical temptation to look to that solution of his difficulty as welcome—but if he recovered the perpetrators of the outrage should be punished, and the brave, innocent man protected. He went on deck as usual at sunrise for his coffee, and exchanged greetings with Mr. Winsloe, who reported that Mr. Merritt had not returned last night, and had indeed gone ashore without asking leave.
Then the captain said—
“I know all about Merritt, the service he’s ben able to render excuses him from all breach of discipline. An’ I gave him leave to stay all night. He’s nursing my boat-steerer, who was nearly killed last night by your friend Pepe.”
Strive as Winsloe would, he could not help a momentary gleam of triumph in his eyes, and Captain Taber, keenly observant of him, saw it. The simmering wrath within him awoke and, growing pale with rage, he burst out—
“Yes, I know that’s pleasant intelligence to you, Winsloe, and I want to tell you right here that, though I don’t believe for the honour of our name as Americans that you were mixed up in this infernal cowardly scheme to kill one of the best fellows that ever lived, I know you would have been glad to hear of his death or disablement or anything that would keep him out of this ship. I’ve been a bit of a cur myself over this business, though I never suspected it before; but I’ve got over that, thank God. If that chap gets well he’s comin’ back here as boat-steerer, an’ if you or anybody else aboard dares to pick on him except in th’ lawful way of discipline in case of his doin’ wrong, you’ll have to reckon with me. I never did play no favourites, nor I won’t now. But as I don’t want to spoil a good ship or a fairly good man (though y’ ain’t half as good as I thought ye was), I’ll give ye yeer option: treat that man square, white man fashion or skip. I won’t have ye in my ship if ye can’t be a man.”
Winsloe was beaten—let us hope that he felt ashamed—and he replied after a pause—
“Captain Taber, I own up, I ben goin’ wrong. I don’t love the feller a bit, but I can’t gainsay that he’s a good man, too good for me in fact. If I’d ben skipper I’d ha’ give big money t’ get rid of him, or I’d ha’ driven him out. But I didn’t try ner I wouldn’t ha’ tried, t’ kill him, an’ I thank ye for exoneratin’ me from that. An’ I’ll put up with him an’ try to get over my natural dislike fer a man whose whole life makes ours look bad by comparison. An’ I’m ready to apologize for acting ugly t’ you, Captain Taber, whom I’ve worked with and liked so long.”
A hearty handshake was all that followed, but it spoke volumes. Then the skipper called his boat and went ashore, making straight for the store where he had left C. B. and Merritt the previous night. But long before he reached it he was aware of a huge concourse of natives gathered around it, and, wondering greatly what all the excitement was about, he pushed through the crowd and gained the store, to find the German proprietor in a state bordering on frenzy because his trade was being ruined, he said, nobody could get near the shore to do business. Inside the captain found Merritt sitting by the side of the patient looking exceedingly dangerous.