Jack did not move.
“You hear me? Down on your knees and ask pardon, or you’re a dead man!”
He spoke as quietly as ever, but there was a deadly ring in his voice for all that.
“I’ll give you till I count three,” said he, at last, and then he began to count, “one,—two—”
Jack looked around, with despair in his eyes. The captain smiled. “Stand where you are,” said he, and then his teeth and tongue began to form the “th—”
Jack Baldwin was no coward; but would you yourself have stood still and be shot down like a dog? It would have been a brave man indeed—a foolishly brave man—that would have done such a thing. I will not tell the rest. It is enough to say that Jack did do that which the captain ordered him, and that before the whole ship’s company.
“You are wise,” said Captain Knight, dryly, and then he thrust the pistol back again into his belt, and, turning on his heel, went into his cabin.
Jack got up slowly from his knees. His face was haggard and drawn. He looked at no one, but went to the side of the ship and stood gazing into the water. Tom saw him a half an hour afterward, standing just in the same way, and in the same place.
When the captain had gone into his cabin, Tom turned to the pumps again. “Shake her up!—— your eyes! Shake her up!” roared he.
It was the first time that he ever used an oath to the men under him, and it is hard to tell why he used it then, for in his heart he did not believe that he was long for this life. Then the men fell to pumping again, but what little life they had left was all gone out of them now.