"And will act accordingly," emphasised Wulfrey once more. "I must ask you to keep off," as the mate paddled alongside and reached up a rough hairy hand to the side. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I won't have you on board."
"Won't, eh?" and as he reached up the other hand and prepared to mount, Wulfrey picked up his axe and held it threateningly above the clinging hands, which straightway loosed their hold amid a volley of curses.
"—— —— —— —— you! You'd maim me! —— —— —— —— me, if I don't pay you for this! The girl's mine. I found her. I'll get her over your dead body if needs be."
"Ah! And who found you? And where would you be if I hadn't helped you on to the raft yon first night? Tell me that, will you? By the same rule you're mine, and all you've got is mine."
"—— —— —— —— you for a —— —— —— sea-lawyer!" foamed the mate, his dark face and eyes all ablaze, his shaking fists hurling curses beyond the compass of his tongue.
Wulfrey, eyeing him professionally, said to himself, "Too much rum. He'll have D.T. if he doesn't slack off—or a fit if he does much of this kind of thing."
The mate thrashed back to his own ship with furious strokes and climbed aboard, and Wulfrey, having watched him safely up the side, went down to The Girl.
"He is very angry," he said quietly.
"He did not whisper. I couldn't help hearing him. What will he do next?"
"We can only wait and see. We shall have to be on our guard, but we won't let him trouble us. He is drinking too much."