“Fer insultin’ me, bejabers!”
“Gwan away. I neber ’sulted yo’.”
“Bejabers, that’s a loie! Here’s wan fer luck!”
With this Barney made a swoop at the darky. Pomp easily dodged it, however, and retreated a step.
Barney came at him again, hammer and tongs. At once Africa’s blood arose.
“G’way now, yo’ sassy I’ishman, if yo’ knows what’s good fo’ yo’se’f. Whoop dar! Look out fo’ yo’se’f!”
With this down went Pomp’s woolly head. Forward he shot like a battering ram. The result was comical enough.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE MIDST OF A STORM.
Pomp’s head took Barney full in the stomach.
The Celt was propelled across the cabin floor like a stone out of a catapult, and landed with a terrific crash clear under his own bunk. For a moment he was stunned and utterly unable to tell where he was or what had happened.