The captain and mate bravely started down the hatchway, revolvers in hand. They were taking desperate chances. It was no small thing for two men, even with arms in their hands, to face a dozen sailors, maddened with drink, at close quarters, in a hand-to-hand encounter such as this must needs be. But those old-time skippers were accustomed to rough-and-tumble fights, and they never shirked an encounter of the kind, even at long odds.
Jim and I had gone forward to see the outcome of the affair, and we were, of course, in a high state of excitement as the captain and mate disappeared below.
For several minutes there was a terrible confusion of voices in the forecastle, and then a sound of blows and oaths, followed by the sharp crack of a pistol shot. Then a brief pause, followed by a renewal of the uproar. Another shot was fired, and almost immediately the captain appeared on the ladder, struggling with a stalwart fellow who had grasped the pistol by the barrel, and was striving to get possession of it.
The carpenter leaned over the scuttle and struck the sailor a heavy blow on the head with a pair of iron handcuffs, whereupon the fellow let go his grasp of the pistol and fell heavily down the ladder. The captain then came up, bleeding from a cut on the side of his face, evidently the result of a blow, and with his clothing fairly torn to shreds. Mr. Bowker quickly followed, in an even worse condition, and without his pistol, which he had lost in the affray.
Mr. Daniels pulled over the scuttle and slipped in the hatch-bar; and, feeling that the wild beasts were at least caged, our side called a parley.
“I shot one of the scoundrels in the arm,” said the captain. “Did your shot take effect, Mr. Bowker?”
“I think so, sir; but I am not sure of it. They closed in on me so I could not very well see.”
I happened just then to glance through a port and saw a boat coming alongside. “Here’s a boat with some officers, sir,” I reported.
The captain went to the gangway and received a Brazilian officer who came on board. Looking curiously at the captain’s disordered condition, he said, “I am sent by the port captain to inquire what trouble you are in, as you have a distress signal flying.”
The captain explained and the lieutenant went forward to investigate. Mr. Bowker opened the scuttle, and the officer called down in his broken English, “Mariners, I command that you come on deck at once!”