The Captain waited a moment till the other gave pause. Then he said:
“There’s no use in kicking and squealing. You’re prisoners of war, that’s how you stand. The ship’s mine now, a lawful prize. What’s that you say? An Irishman? Of course I’m an Irishman. What’s that you say? I’m a traitor to my country? B’gosh, if you say that again, I’ll open the door and give you a taste of my quality. Say it again, will you! Say it again, will you!”
He shook the door handle at each invitation, but Shiner was dumb. He evidently had no desire to taste the Captain’s quality. It was Wolff’s voice that came instead, muted and murmurous:
“Make terms, make terms; there is no use in arguing. Make terms!”
“You won’t make any terms with me,” said the Captain, “but you’ll be treated well and transhipped as quick as possible.”
“But, see here, Captain!” came Shiner’s voice.
The Captain did not hear him; he had left the saloon, and next moment was on deck. He was a man of swift decision, and he had fixed in his mind that the first thing to be done was to make the crew his own, and the next to dump the cable and be gone. He could not mend it. They had no skilled artificer on board. To mend it, he would have to bring both ends on board and connect them. If you have ever examined a deep-sea cable, with its water coat of wire, its inner coat of rubber, and its core, you will quite understand the complexity of the task.
It was impossible, and he recognized the fact as he walked forward.
Harman was standing by the dynamometer, waiting for orders, and the bos’n near Harman. The Captain ordered the bos’n to pipe the whole crew on deck, and presently, like a kicked beehive, the fo’c’sle gave up its contents, the stokers off duty appeared, and even MacBean himself rose like a seal from the engine-room hatch.