“No, sir,” firmly replied the mate, “that’s your affair, not mine, and it’s for you to carry it out. I’ve nothing to do with it.”
This was too much for the skipper’s nerves, and he burst out, “I believe you’re as bad as they are, and I’ll make you pay dear for this——”
“Now stop right there, captain,” coolly replied the mate, “before you say something you’ll be sorry for. You’re not drunk now, and you ought to know what you are talking about. Anyhow, here comes the police-boat, and you’ll have to make up your mind what you are going to do.”
Captain Swainson was now, however, to find out that the time for his choice to be exercised had gone by: having started this ball rolling, he could not stop it. The police-boat arrived, and the officer in charge, a lathy, keen-looking American, swung himself on deck, casually adjusted his revolver-belt, and advanced to where the captain and mate stood, saying, “’Morning, gentlemen, what’s the trouble?”
“My men have refused duty, with a great deal of insulting language, and they are, I think, quite dangerous. But I’ll give ’em one more chance before I proceed to extremities with ’em. Call ’em aft, Mr. Jenkins.”
“Lay aft, all hands,” roared the mate instantly, and as the fellows had been awaiting the summons all ready to go ashore, they came at once, ranging themselves across the quarter-deck and looking up at the police-officer, skipper, and mate, who stood on the poop looking down upon them, while the policemen stood by the rail, regarding with grave faces this gang of supposed mutineers.
“Now men,” quavered the skipper, “you see what you’ve done; here are the police ready to arrest you all and take you to chokey, for that’s what it means for every one of you if you don’t obey my lawful commands. But if you will behave yourselves and go quietly to your work, I’ll look over it this once.”
“Thank you for nothin’, cap’n,” said the leader of the men, “but we think it’s us that ought to look over what you’ve done. We ain’t going to talk about that now, though; we want to see the consul, and then we’ll have our say. And we’ll see what he’s got to say to you.”
It was really pitiful to see the strait to which the skipper had brought himself by his behaviour. He dared not send those men to the consul with their tale, which would be corroborated he knew by his officers. And he could not grant their demands, for he had no money wherewith to do so. Had his record been clean, of course the men would have been compelled to obey him or go to gaol, but now by his own act he found himself disabled from taking advantage of the law that would otherwise have been in his favour. So he stood there disgraced and ashamed before all, and his miserably muddled brain rendered him unable to think out a plan. The silence was dramatic, and lasted so long that the police-officer lost his patience, and said in dry, incisive tones, “Well, captain, what’s to be done? Does the men’s bluff hold good? and what are you going to do, anyway; for I can’t be here doin’ nothin’?”
The wretched man, looking the very picture of pitiful irresolution, said at last, “I think I’d better come ashore with you, officer, and see what I can do; you might just try and scare ’em a bit, so’s to keep ’em quiet till I come back, you know.”