“Silence!” cried the captain, sternly. “I’m afraid I shall have to recall this as a mark against you, Dance, when the time comes for promotion. It is very plain, sir, that you do know, and will not speak. Hark here, my lads, I am going to pass this over. I cannot punish two ignorant, half-savage men for resenting a cruel attack upon them—cruel and cowardly. Go below now, and show me in the future that you have too much common sense to play such boys’ tricks again. Let the two blacks step out.”
Efforts were made to induce the two Africans to advance, but without avail.
“Now, are those men coming aft?” said the captain, sternly; but there was only a buzzing sound below, and something extremely like a scuffle.
“Beg pardon, sir; they don’t understand,” said Bob Howlett. “They’d come up if I spoke to ’em.”
“Then go down and send them aft—or no,” said the captain, impatiently. “I want them to understand that they are pardoned, but that there must be no violence again. There, that’s enough, Mr Staples. Pipe the men below.”
“And that’s an end of it,” whispered Bob Howlett, as soon as the captain was out of hearing. “I say, Van, wasn’t old Joe Dance a trump?”