The pacific men of the main deck thought to themselves: "Oh, Lord! There'll be a free fight with all that lower deck crowd." The men who had sleepily and subconsciously followed Rafferty came back presently; two divisions of the steers, they reported, had been loosened and were milling.
"Huh!" said Mike. "A nice night watchman that!" and rolled over.
Jack and Johnnie, after the others were asleep, stole back again, muttering something about "divvy in the morning." The morning came with awful celerity. "Tumble up, you sons of——!" and there was Rafferty in the doorway, wire rope in hand, going from bunk to bunk roaring, and coming down whack on the sleepers. One man sat up and pointed at him before he drew near.
"Now look out, Rafferty!" he warned. "I'm not on your deck. If you touch me I'll have it into you one way or another."
Rafferty glared at him, realised that the man was not on his deck, and passed on. But all were awake now. Scholar, hauling on his clothes, thought to himself: "Now we are going to have an exhibition of discipline at sea!" Then suddenly, in a top bunk amidships, up sat one of the pickpocket-faced youngsters, one of those referred to, in a bunch, as "youse" by Mike. And he piped up: "Call me in another hour, Rafferty, and fetch me me shavin' water."
Rafferty rushed at him, but the skimpy youth slipped to the deck on the far side. The boss pursued, and amid cheers and whoops they ran, like boys at tag, round and round the bunks. They grew winded. The pickpocket-faced kid paused, made feints of coming this way that way, and Rafferty, suddenly, abruptly, fled from the cabin.
"Better get out now, you," somebody said to the youngster, but he delayed, uncertain; and as he delayed there, gaining his breath, Rafferty returned with a pitchfork and charged upon him. A man in a lower bunk thrust out his leg, and Rafferty cannoned over it, dropping the pitchfork; but the wire rope was to hand. It fell from his pocket where he had thrust it on arming himself with the sharper weapon, and he grabbed it and scrambling up whirled back to the bunk of the man who had tripped him, and down came the wire rope again and again.
"Eh?" came a sharp voice, exploding in the doorway, and there was Candlass, white and very grim. "Main deck men, tumble up!" he ordered. Behind him was a middle-sized, square man with a pepsin jaw, slightly bent forward, left foot a little in advance of the right, clenched fists almost touching over his midriff. Candlass became aware of him. "That's all right," he said over his shoulder, in an easy tone, and the pugilistic person, who bunked in Candlass's cabin, and who was on board to bring over a dozen stallions penned amidships near the galley, turned away. The main deck crowd filed out, Mike delaying to watch them go, like a sergeant in command.
"You go ahead then," said Candlass to him. "I'll be after you presently."
Rafferty had his man down still, out of the bunk, on the floor—not the kid who had set the trouble going, but the man who had tripped the Mad Boss up. They were fighting for possession of the wire rope, grappling each other's throats, and it; but at last Rafferty gave up his hold upon the rope. Candlass, motionless, kept an eye upon those who seemed to be drawing on their boots with purpose. Several of the lower deck men thought it safer to go forward than to wait and see the finish here. They began to file out, past Candlass, who let them go, eyeing each carefully, and then glancing back at the bout in progress on the floor. Suddenly his hand shot out and he grabbed the throat of one passing him, instinct telling him that this thin and evil-faced young man was in too great haste. Rafferty rose then, commented: "That will keep you thoughtful for a day or two!" and spun round looking for the originator of this trouble.