“Not till I’d done with him.”
“And what would you do?”
“Do, sir! Why, what I say, sir; I’d civilise him, and show him something different to hitting a man behind his back. There’d be no call for him to strip, he’d be all ready; but I’d just have off my jacket and weskit, and some of the lads to see fair, and I’d show him the way Englishmen fight. I’d give him such a civilising as should make him respect the British nation to the end of his days. That’s what I’d do with him. Fists!”
“Very well, Ned, look sharp and get strong so as to do it.”
“Strong, sir? Why, I could do it now if you’d let me get up instead of making me bask about like a pig in a sty. I just feel, sir, as we used to say at school, as if I could let him have it, though it would hardly be fair. He’d have the greatest advantage.”
“Yes, I should say he would,” said Jack, laughing.
“Ah, you mean about muscle, sir. I don’t. I mean that if he managed to get home with his fists in my face—not as I think he would—he’d make me look disgraceful, and not fit to appear before the guvnor for a fortnight. And all the time I might pound away for an hour and make no difference in him. Whoever heard of a nigger with a black eye?”
“Well, no, Ned, I never did,” said Jack, laughing. “Nature ain’t been fair over that, sir. Black chaps’ eyes ought to go white after a fight; but I suppose it’s because they don’t fight fair. Hitting a man in the back, and with a poisoned arrow too! It makes me feel wild; it’s so cowardly. But there, they don’t know any better. I say though, Mr Jack, I am glad we’re going to stay, and it makes me feel proud of our crew. I’ll shake hands with the lot as soon as I may go on deck.”
“That’s right enough, Ned, and as soon as you’re fit Doctor Instow will let you go.”
“Tell you I’m fit as a fiddle now, sir,” said the mate testily. “Why, nothing would do me more good than to stretch myself by having a set-to with that nigger as shot me.”