"I will be a butcher no longer, be it mutiny or not. I am sick of it."
"Will you to your duty, sir?"
"To work the ship, but not to take more life," said the officer, steadily.
"You are mad, Griffin! My authority must not be questioned, even by you. I would not take your life," he added, placing his hand on the butt of a pistol and half drawing it from his belt. "You cannot be alone in this mutiny—you wear too bold a front."
"Nor am I. Ho! lads—a Griffin! a Griffin!"
The loud cry of the mutineer was responded to by the shout of eight or ten pirates, who instantly placed themselves, with drawn cutlasses, around him.
"By the cross! it is well matured!" muttered Kyd, with terrible calmness. "Back, fellows! To your posts! You, Griffin—for the last time—to your station, sir, and bring the brig to!"
"Never, sir! Draw and charge. Now is our time!" he cried to his party.
A cry between a yell and the sound made by the gnashing of teeth escaped the infuriated bucanier chief. Like a tiger, he sprung upon them single-handed, and struck back half a score of blades with a single broad sweep of his cutlass, while those who wielded them stood appalled.
"Back, dogs! Do ye fear me singly? Oh, ho, cowards! Stand where ye are! and you, traitor," he cried, breaking the cutlass of their leader short to its hilt, "go to your duty! I spare your life!"