Then Captain Knight drew his fingers away. “You mutinous scoundrel!” whispered he, in a trembling voice. But he did not look directly at Tom when he spoke; neither did he again attempt to draw a pistol.
Tom stood looking at him without a word for maybe half a minute. He felt that if he turned his eyes away for so much as a second, he was a dead man. So he stood without moving. At last he spoke again:
“Captain Knight, give me that pistol.”
The captain looked from side to side.
“Captain Knight, give me that pistol,” he repeated, and very sternly. He held out his left hand as he spoke. His right was clenched, and if the captain had made a dangerous movement, he would have smitten him down where he stood. Captain Knight looked up for an instant. He must have seen the resolve in Tom’s face, for he slowly drew out the pistol and put it into his hand.
“Now give me the other,” said Tom. And once more the captain did as he was bidden. Tom went to the side of the ship and threw both pistols overboard. When he turned around the captain had gone into his cabin. Tom never saw him again.
It was not till all was over that he felt what he had passed through. So long as he had faced the captain his purpose had kept him braced to what he was doing, but now his hands were cold and trembling nervously.
All of the ship’s crew had been looking on at what had passed, so he tried to appear as cool as though nothing of any account had happened. He went up to where Jack Baldwin was standing. “Jack,” said he (but his voice trembled a little in spite of himself), “you’re the chief officer now. For the Lord’s sake, give orders to get the cutter cleared away, for there’s no time to lose.”
“I’ll give orders when I choose,” said Jack, roughly, and he swung on his heel and strode away.
Tom was struck all aback, for he could not think at first what he had done to touch Jack’s feelings. Presently Jack came back to him again. He stopped close in front of him, and folded his arms.