“If ever I get a chance, I will, if it’s only for the sake of seeing you get your deserts, you miserable hound!” I cried. “No, I’m not fit to be trusted, Jarette,” I cried, now quite beside myself with rage and pain; “and don’t let that miserable cur come near me, or I shall try to do him some mischief.”
“Do you hear, lieutenant?” said Jarette, with a sneering laugh. “Why don’t you go and serve him out for threatening you? He’s about helpless if his ribs are broken, and couldn’t hurt you back.”
“I’m not going to meddle with the miserable, sneaking cur,” he said contemptuously. “And you needn’t banter me; I’ve saved you from being cheated by him.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jarette, gazing at Walters through his half-closed lids; “I dare say it was all talk, for he wouldn’t have dared to play tricks. But I say, lieutenant, he has got a stouter heart than you have. He’d be too much for you.”
Walters gave him a malicious look, full of angry spite, and as Jarette saw it, there was a complete change in the man. His eyes flashed, his form seemed to dilate, and he looked taller, while I now realised how it was that he had gained so much ascendancy over the men, making them follow and trust him with powers which would possibly land them all in gaol, if no worse fate were in store.
He and Walters were close to me, and I heard what could not have reached the ears of the men.
“Take care, youngster,” he half whispered. “You’ve got a hasty tongue, and it stings sometimes. Mind I don’t turn and sting again. Recollect you’ve committed yourself so deeply that you are mine now; and recollect, too, that I’m captain.”
“Yes, I know,” said Walters, sharply, “but he isn’t to be trusted, and—”
“You hate him,” said Jarette. “Well, I know you do. There, that’s enough. Here, some of you, which cabin is empty?”
“Second one on the left,” cried several.