"Keep off," said Wulf. "If you try to come aboard I'll cut you down."
"Come down then and fight it out if you're half a man, —— —— —— —— you! What right have you to her, I'd like to know, —— —— —— —— ——!"—he picked up his oar and whirled it round at Wulf's head and it splintered on the hard-wood rail.
"Get back to your ship, man, and don't make a fool of yourself," said Wulf. "I won't fight you. If you try to come on board here I'll make an end of you."
"Ye skunk, ye! Ye —— —— —— white-livered cowardly skunk!"—etc. etc. etc.—to all of which Wulf made no reply, which provoked the furious one more than any words he could have flung at him.
He remained there, hurling abuse and invective at the steady-faced man up above, till the night air cooled the boiling in his brain. Then he seized his splintered oar and thrashed away home. Wulf quietly resumed his sentry-go, watched till all was quiet on the 'Jane and Mary,' and then went down.
To his surprise The Girl was sitting by the fire. He had supposed her in bed, had hoped she was fast asleep and had heard nothing of the bombardment.
"He has gone?" she asked.
"Yes, he has gone home to bed. I was hoping you were asleep."
"Asleep! ... And you did not kill him?"
"He gave me no chance. He invited me on to his raft for a fight——"