The only answer was a succession of knocks still louder and more imperative.
“I’ll fix him for his insolence, whoever he is,” the captain muttered, angrily, and, walking to the cabin door, opened it himself.
“What do you mean, Mr. Weldon?” he demanded, in surprise and anger.
The young man’s face was white with anger, and there was a suppressed fury in his tone, as he replied, “I come here, Captain Brandon, to demand why you have sacrificed a human life, by refusing to make any effort to save the boy Harry Raymond.”
“I am not responsible to you for what I do or decline to do, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, fiercely. “It is none of your business.”
“It is my business, Captain Brandon, and the business of every man on board who has a spark of humanity in his bosom.”
“You are insolent, sir.”
“Is this a time to choose words? You have suffered that poor boy to perish when you might have saved him, and in the eyes of Heaven you are responsible for his murder.”
“Murder!”