This fellow became a demon now—a demon in command of demons; for they had found some grog which had been in charge of the second mate—who was dead—and excited themselves into fury with it.
Durdley, the dark and ugly man, rushed to the screen-berth where Halcott was trying to ease the sufferings of a poor dying man.
He was as white as a ghost; even his lips were pale.
Beware of men, reader, who get white when angry. They are dangerous!
“Here, Halcott,” cried Durdley, “drop your confounded mummery, and listen to me. Lay aft here, my merry men, lay aft.”
Nine men, chiefly Finns and other foreigners, armed with ugly knives and iron marline-spikes, quickly stationed themselves behind him.
“Now, Halcott, your game’s up. You brought this plague into the ship yourself. By rights you should die. But I depose you. I am captain now, and my brave boys will obey me, and me alone.
“You hear?” he shouted, for Halcott stood a few paces from him, calmly looking him in the face.
“I hear.”
“Then, cusses on you, why don’t ye speak? You’ll be allowed to live, I say, both you and Tandy, on one condition.”