“Oh,” he retorted, “av coorse we all knew you was a sailor-man; we could see that widout anny tellin’. But a navigator too—bedad, that makes a mighty differ!”
“In what way, pray?” demanded I. “Have you been drinking, this morning, O’Gorman?”
“The divil a dhrop,” he returned. And then, before I could say another word, he abruptly turned and walked forward again, saying something to the men on deck as he went, who instantly dropped such work as they were engaged upon, and followed him below into the forecastle.
I was astounded—fairly taken aback—at this extraordinary behaviour, an explanation of which I was determined to demand at once. With this view I turned to Miss Onslow, whose arm was linked in mine, and requested her to kindly excuse me for a moment.
“No,” said she, “I will not. I know perfectly well what that glitter in your eye means: you are angry at that sailor’s impertinence, and mean to give him a well-deserved reprimand. But I would rather that you did nothing of the kind, please; the man knows no better; and I do not suppose he really meant to be rude at all. But I confess I do not like the expression of his face: there is a mixture of low cunning, obstinacy, and cruel brutality in it that renders his appearance dreadfully repulsive; so please oblige me by taking no notice whatever of his behaviour.”
There was a certain subtle flattery in the apparent inconsequence of my companion’s last few words that made them peculiarly acceptable to me; but discipline is discipline, and must be maintained, at all hazards, even when a crew has been picked up in such irregular fashion as mine had been; and I was determined to at once impress upon this Irish ruffian the fact that I was skipper of the brig, and that I intended to exact from him the respect and deference of manner due to the position. So I said to my companion:
“I have no doubt you are perfectly right in your estimate of the man’s intentions; but he was altogether too insolent of manner to please me, and he must be taught better; moreover, I wish to ascertain precisely what he meant by the remark that my being a navigator made ‘a mighty differ.’ So please allow me to go forward and put these little matters right. I shall not be gone longer than five minutes, at the utmost.”
“I will not consent to your going, just now, even for five seconds,” answered Miss Onslow, with quiet determination. “You are just angry enough to use the first words that may rise to your lips, without pausing to consider whether they happen or not to be offensive, and I am sure that is not a safe temper in which to engage in an altercation with that man. He is insolent, insubordinate, and altogether a most dangerous man to deal with—one can tell that by merely glancing at his eyes—and I have a firm conviction that if you were perchance to offend him, he would without compunction stab you, or do you some other dreadful injury—perhaps kill you outright. Therefore,”—with a most ravishing smile, and a tightening of her grip upon my arm—“you will be pleased to consider yourself as my prisoner for the present.”
“And a most willing prisoner, too—at any other time,” answered I, with an attempt to fall in with the playful mood in which she had spoken the last words, while yet my anger was rising, and my anxiety increasing, as I noted the continued absence of the men from the deck. “But at this moment,” I continued, “I have no option; that fellow O’Gorman must be brought to book at once, or my authority will be gone for ever; and that would never do; the others would only too probably take their cue from him, and become insolent and insubordinate in their turn, and there is no knowing what excesses they might in that case commit!”
My companion turned pale as she at length realised that it was something more that mere anger springing from my wounded dignity that was moving me; she gazed anxiously into my eyes for a moment, and then said: