“Why did you not come and report the matter to me?”
“Well, sir, I didn’t have time to,” I said. “When Mr Macdougall spoke to me in that way, I suppose I gave him a cheeky retort, for he threatened to knock me down.”
“And then?” asked the skipper, when I paused here, not wishing to tell of my being floored.
“Why, I dared him to touch me,” I continued, “and he did knock me down.”
“Did he? I heard nothing of this before! I thought that you had attacked Mr Macdougall first—indeed, he told me so himself!” Captain Billings said, with much surprise, eyeing the first mate suspiciously.
At this point, an unexpected witness stepped forth in my defence, in the person of Haxell, the taciturn carpenter. This individual seldom spoke to any one unless previously addressed; so his voluntary testimony on my behalf was all the more striking and effective, especially as it was given in the very nick of time.
“Aye, but the lad didn’t,” now sang out Haxell, who had come up on the poop without any one previously noticing him. “I saw Mr Macdougall knock him down twice afore ever he raised his hand ag’in’ him.”
“The deuce he did!” exclaimed the skipper, indignantly; and then turning on the first mate, he gave him another “dressing down” before all the men, such as I never heard given to any one before. It, really, almost made me feel sorry for him!
“You lying thing!” he cried to Mr Macdougall in withering accents, the scorn of which was more than I could express in words. “I can’t call you a man, and you aren’t a sailor, by Jove, for sailors don’t behave like that to poor friendless orphan boys! You have told me a heap of falsehoods about this whole occurrence from first to last, and I despise you from the bottom of my soul for the way in which you have acted throughout. I’m only sorry we’re at sea, for you shouldn’t stop an hour longer in my ship if I could help it!”
“But, Cap’en,” interposed Mr Macdougall, feebly, trying to ward off the storm of the skipper’s wrath, “the ill favourt loon provokit me, and was mair than inseelent.”