Poole clapped the pistol behind him as he shook himself free.
“Look here, sir,” he cried; “have you gone mad?”
“Do you hear, men?” cried Fitz, seizing him again. “Forward! You, Poole, in the Queen’s name, surrender!”
Not a man stirred, all standing in a group looking on, some wonderingly, some thoroughly amused, while the carpenter whispered—
“All right, lads; let them fight it out. Of all the cheek!”
“Did you say, You Poole or You fool?” said the skipper’s son quietly; “because one of us seems to be behaving very stupidly. Take your hand off my collar. This pistol’s loaded in five chambers, and was in six till I blew the lock off the cabin-door.—Quiet, I tell you, before there’s an accident. Why, you must have gone off your head.”
“Did you hear what I said, men?” shouted Fitz furiously. “In the Queen’s name, make this boy your prisoner! Here, you, boatswain, take the lead here and obey my orders.” For that individual had just made his appearance on deck.
“What’s the row, young gentlemen? Here, you, Squire Poole, put away that six-shooter. If you and Mr Fitz here has fell out, none of that tommy-rot nonsense. Use your fists.”
“Boatswain,” cried Fitz haughtily, “I, as an officer, seize this schooner in the Queen’s name.”
“What, has she telled you to, sir? I never heared her come aboard.”