"Not until I get ready."
"Come, Nat, don't have anything to do with him," advised Mr. Weatherby, for he did not want to see a fight.
At the sound of his friend's voice Nat involuntarily turned his head. Sam meanly took advantage of this, and drew back his arm for a blow. His fist shot out, but Nat turned aside in time so that he only received a light blow on the shoulder. He had been hit, however, and he was not the lad to stand that without taking some action.
"There! If you want to fight!" he cried, and his left shot out, straight for Sam's face. Sam tried to dodge, but he was too late. The blow caught him full on the chin, and so powerful was it that he reeled backward, vainly clutching the air for support.
He had been standing with his back to the little space between the ship's rail and the rail of the gangplank. Nat's blow sent him reeling backward, and a moment later Sam fell into the water between the vessel and the dock.
"Man overboard!" sang out a sailor who had witnessed the fight and its outcome. "Man overboard!"
He ran to the rail, and threw a life-preserver down into the narrow space. But with the realization of what he had done Nat was in action.
He threw off his coat and vest with a quick motion, and with his knife cut the laces of his shoes, kicking them off in a trice. Then, running to the rail, he peered down to where a swirl in the water indicated Sam's position. Over the rail leaped Nat, to rescue the boy whom he had knocked into the water.
At the sailor's cry Captain Marshall and the mate came running out on deck. They were told by the pilot what had happened.
"I'll have him arrested for this!" cried the mate. "He tried to murder my nephew."