"Fishing-boat! I tell you it is an English yacht," said Windham, fiercely. "I saw it plainly. The sails were down. It was water-logged. A woman was standing by the foremast."
The captain looked annoyed.
"It looks to me," said he, "simply like some heavily laden schooner."
"But I tell you she is sinking, and there is a woman on board," said Windham, more vehemently than ever.
"Oh, it's only some Neapolitan fish-wife."
"You must turn the steamer, and save her," said Windham, with savage emphasis.
"I can not. We shall be behind time."
"Damn time!" roared Windham, thoroughly roused. "Do you talk of time in comparison with the life of a human being? If you don't turn the steamer's head, _I_ will."
"You!" cried the captain, angrily. "Damn it! if it comes to that, I'd like to see you try it. It's mutiny."
Windham's face grew white with suppressed indignation.