"You sent this memo. to me? There! I fling it at your feet. I ought to fling it into your white and frightened face. How dare you insult my country, sir? You little tippling whipper-snapper!"
"This is rank mutiny!" cried the skipper. "I'll call the first lieutenant and quartermaster."
"You may call till you are hoarse, and they will not come to witness against me. Even your boy has fled, and now I'll speak my mind."
Here the commander attempted to run the blockade and force his way out.
"Stand back, sir," cried Grant, "or worse will happen!"
"Now, sir, listen to me. I have stood your tyranny long enough and as calmly as I could, and now it is my turn, and I tell you plainly that whenever and wherever I find you on shore in plain clothes, I'll give you such a thrashing that you won't forget it the longest day you live. Good-morning."
This ended the scene.
Some captains would have shot Grant where he stood. But Flint was terror-stricken and silent.
He was on deck again half an hour afterwards, looking as if nothing had happened.
Next evening the steward came in to say, with Captain Flint's compliments, that he wished Dr. Grant to come and share a bottle of wine with him.