I cannot put the skipper’s reply down, because it was not only abusive but couched in very foul language. It raised the mate’s wrath, and he was about to make a hot reply when he became aware of the presence of one of the beach-combers, a huge brutal man who looked ripe for anything from pitch-and-toss to manslaughter. This visitor laid his hand on Mr. Jenkins’ shoulder, saying, “Now, Mister Chief Mate, mind yer stops. I’m a friend of the cap’s, and I’ve come off to have a little sociable conversation with you about your mutinous behaviour on the passage out.”
“And I’m another friend of his,” said the second visitor, pushing in.
“Count me in,” shouted the third, who had now gained the deck, and there the mate stood, confronted by as nasty a situation as could well be imagined.
The skipper, looking as malignant as a monkey, rubbed his hands and emitted an exultant chuckle, then said, “Aha, me hero, boot’s on t’other leg now. I’ll make ye sing small enough before I’ve done with ye. Will you kindly inform me” (with profound sarcasm) “why the hands haven’t been turned to yet? I want you to understand that I’ll have discipline aboard this ship or I’ll know the reason why.”
The mate only turned on his heel and replied, “I’ll talk to you when you’re sober. As for you,” turning fiercely to the loafers, “if you interfere with me in any way, look out for yourselves. I’m heeled and don’t fear a whole regiment of beach-combers. Come on, Mr. Cope, let’s leave these gentlemen to their pleasures and get the hands to work.”
So saying he strode forward, gripping a belaying-pin from the rail as he went, and on arriving at the forecastle door he shouted, “Now then, are you fellows all dead in there? Turn to.”
There was an almost inarticulate rumble of oaths in reply, but the mate had heard enough to put the draught upon his smouldering rage, and leaping into the forecastle he seized the foremost man, the big German, by the throat, and flinging himself backwards, they both fell in a kicking heap on deck. The second mate sprang forward, and dragging the sailor off the mate flung him sideways into the scuppers, the mate just springing to his feet in time to meet the rush of the other men. Unfortunately he had dropped his weapon in the struggle with the first man, and had not time to get his pistol out.
The second mate was in the same case, and for a moment it looked as if they would be overpowered. But as usual the unexpected happened, there was a scuffling rush from aft, and into the fight broke the three visitors like a whirlwind, striking and kicking with such hearty goodwill at the mutineers that in the short space of a minute the struggle was over, and the victory of law and order was complete. The mate and second mate, panting and bleeding, stood astonished and glared at their helpers, the foremost of whom said, “It’s all right, Mister Mate, I come aboard with the idea of puttin’ you through, but I ben skipper myself too long an’ ben in too many tight places to have any sympathy with mutineers, and I’m glad to have ben of any service to ye. My name is Haynes, an’ I’m willing to be chummy if you are. Shake,” and he held out a hairy fist.
The mate gripped his hand gratefully, and said, “Thank’ee, Cap’n Haynes, but now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to get these blighters goin’; duty first, y’know.” And turning to the discomfited crowd he shouted, “Now get along an’ wash decks, an’ the first man I see skulking I’ll clap the irons on him.”
There was an immediate move to the work, and in five minutes the usual everyday business of cleaning the ship was going forward as if nothing had happened.