“Bur–r–ur!” roared the Captain. “Take it away—take it away, or I shall be in another of my rages, and they’re not good for me, Jack—not good for me.”
“Why, what is it, old lad?”
“Tell him, Nic—tell him,” cried Captain Revel; and his son explained the cause of his father’s irritation.
“Why, that was worrying you last time I was here—let me see, a year ago.”
“Yes, Jack; and it has been worrying me ever since,” cried Captain Revel. “You see, I mustn’t cut any of the scoundrels down, and I mustn’t shoot them. The law would be down on me.”
“Yes, of course; but you might make the law come down on them.”
“Can’t, my lad. Summonses are no use.”
“Catch them in the act, make them prisoners, and then see what the law will do.”
“But we can’t catch them, Jack; they’re too many for us,” cried the Captain earnestly. “They come twenty or thirty strong, and we’ve had fight after fight with them, but they knock us to pieces. Look at Solly’s forehead; they gave him that cut only a few nights ago.”
The old sailor blushed like a girl.