In the silence which ensued I heard a muffled muttering come from below, and Jarette dropped upon his knees to hold the lantern right down in the open hold, while the light struck up and made his face and his actions plain from where I stood watching.
“Once more, do you hear? Come up and leave that spirit, or I’ll fetch you with a bullet.”
“Better come up, mate,” shouted one of the men.
“You hold your tongue,” snarled Jarette to the speaker. “Now then, will you come, or am I to fire?”
There was no reply, and Jarette spoke once more in quite a calm, gentle, persuasive voice.
“I say, will you leave that spirit-keg alone and come up?”
Still no answer, and Jarette turned his head to the group of men.
“That’s a fresh keg broached. Who did it?” he said slowly. “I said no more was to be taken. I say—who broached that keg?”
“Oh, well, it was all on us, skipper. You see we couldn’t do nothing in this calm,” said the man who had before spoken, and who seemed to be the most sensible of the group.
“Then you all broke my orders,” cried Jarette, hastily now, “and you shall all see how I punish a man for breaking my orders.”