“I know you as it is, Mr Barney Green, and the next time you dare to even look at my daughter, I'll give you something to remember. Meantime, take this as an earnest of my intentions.”
His right hand shot out and seized Capel by the collar, and twisting him off his feet, he spun him round and round, and then sent him flying across the deck with such violence that he struck the rail on the other side and fell in a heap.
For a few moments there was an astonished silence, and then cries of “What is the matter?” “What did he do?” resounded on all sides as Pinkerton and Cheyne rushed to the fallen man, who lay unconscious. Forreste, twisting his yellow moustache, strode up to Fraser, his face pale with anger.
“What is the meaning of this outrageous assault upon my friend?” he demanded fiercely.
Fraser eyed him up and down with cold contempt, and then Gerrard said with a pleasant drawl, as he stroked his beard:
“Run away and play, Mr—er—Mr—I really forget your name. Oh, Merriton, is it not?”
Forreste's face purpled with passion, and he took a step nearer to Gerrard, who was quite ready for him. Then he stopped and said hoarsely:
“My name is Forreste. I don't know yours, but I do know that if I catch you on shore I'll add some further adornment to your face.”
“Oh, you contemptible creature, to say that!” and Kate looked at him with blazing eyes.
Forreste raised his immaculate Panama to her. “This is hardly a matter for a lady's interference.”