“I want you to come below, Mr. Carr, and pick out your trade goods for the Mortlocks.”
Harvey leant back in his lounge. “I don't think I shall require any goods for the Mortlocks Islands, Mr. Chard.”
“What do you mean?” and Chard's face flushed with anger.
“I mean exactly what I say,” replied Carr nonchalantly. “I say that I shall not want any trade goods for the Mortlocks Islands. I have decided not to take another station from the firm of Hillingdon and McFreeland. I have had enough of them—and enough of you.”
Chard took a threatening step towards him.
“Stand back, Mr. Chard. I am not a man to be threatened.”
Something in his eyes warned the supercargo, whose temper, however, was rapidly taking possession of him.
“Very well, Mr. Carr,” he said sneeringly; “do I understand you to say that you refuse to continue your engagement with our firm?”
“I do refuse.”
“Then, by God, I'll dump you ashore at the first island we sight. The firm will be glad to be rid of you.”