“I have told them what you said, Sir. I don’t know your name.”
“I have no name,” replied I, proudly, “except ‘Captain’—that’s my name.”
The fact is, Madam, I was determined to carry it out bravely; knowing that it is the best way to deal with such people as I now had in hand.
“Well, then, Captain, I have told the men that you will not take the oath.”
“Take the oath,” replied I, with scorn; “no; I administer the oath to others. I make them take it. I make them swear fidelity to me. Such has been my conduct, and I shall not depart from it.”
“Well, but, Captain Toplift, you don’t mean to say that he is to remain on board with us and not take the oath,” said a surly-looking ruffian. “In spite of you, he shall take the oath, Captain Toplift.”
“Captain Toplift,” said I, calmly, “do you allow one of your crew to use such language as this. Had I been captain of this ship, I would have blown his brains out as he stood. You don’t know to deal with these rascals. I do.”
Captain Toplift, who appeared much pleased at being supported in this way by me—(strange that a single individual, whom they might have thrown overboard in a minute, should have gained such an ascendency, but so it was)—and who perceived that the men fell back, as if taken by surprise, then said, “Captain, you have taught me a good lesson, which I will take advantage of. Seize that fellow and put him in irons.”
“Hah!” cried the man, seeing that no one touched him: “who is to bell the cat! hah!” and he drew his cutlass.
“I will, then,” said I to Captain Toplift, “if you desire it;” and, stepping forward, I went up to the man, saying, “Come, come, my good fellow, this won’t do here; I’m used to deal with such chaps as you, and I can manage worse than you, a good deal.”