"Take hold of him, Stanger," this to the second mate, a lithe, sun-browned, handsome lad who knew English but hated to speak it.
They wrestled about the cabin at a great rate ... finally they succeeded in forcing a pen into the mutineer's hand....
Then the man calmed down, apparently whipped.
"Very well, where shall I sign?"
"Da," pointed the captain triumphantly, pointing the line out, with his great, hairy forefinger ... and, with victory near, relapsing into German.
But, just as it reached the designated spot, the fellow gave a violent swish with the pen. The mates made a grab for his hand, but too late. He tore a great, ink-smeared rent through the paper....
Whang! Captain Schantze caught him with the full force of his big, open right hand on the left side of his face.... Whish! Captain Schantze caught him with the full force of his open left, on the other cheek!
The shanghaied man stiffened. He trembled violently.
"Do it a thousand times, my dear captain. I won't sign till you kill me."
"Take him forward. He'll work, and work hard, without signing on.... No, wait ... tie him up to the rail on the poop ... twenty-four hours of that, my man, since you must speak English—will make you change your mind."