The watch was mustered and set. Captain Cammock went below, pleased to think that he had saved Olivia from the trouble of complaining about the boy.
He went direct to the great cabin; for he knew that there was to be a council of war. There was much to be discussed; there was much for him to tell them. He hoped very much that his sea-sick friend Tom Stukeley would be put in a watch. “And then,” he said to himself, “you shall toe the line.” In the cabin he found Perrin and Margaret playing some simple card-game with Olivia, for counters. Stukeley lay at half-length upon the window-seat, sipping brandy. He was evidently cured of his sickness; though very weak from it.
He looked up as Cammock entered, took a good pull at his drink, and called to Margaret.
“You were going to have some sort of parish meeting here. Here’s the beadle. Suppose you begin, and get it over.”
He took another pull at the brandy. “Take a seat, beadle,” he said insolently.
Perrin and Margaret bit their lips, and slowly, almost fearfully, lifted their eyes to Cammock’s face. The old pirate had turned purple beneath his copper; but Olivia’s presence bridled him. He looked at Stukeley for a moment, then spun round on one heel, in the way he had learned in some ship’s forecastle, and walked out of the cabin.
“I must get my charts,” he said thickly.
“Stukeley,” said Margaret lightly, “Captain Cammock is the captain of this ship.”
“Yes,” said Stukeley. “And I wish he knew his place as well as I know it.”
“I must ask you to remember that he commands here.”