"Shut up!" answered Rogers, stabbing at a piece of salt beef with his knife.
"We won't shut up!" said Benson, spooning up pea soup with his brand new tin spoon. "This increases your sentence to the extent of a shorter shrift."
"Go to the devil, the pair of you! I was doped and shanghaied myself, and I've run foul o' the mates, same as you did—and for less reason, too."
"Well, they'll sweat for this, and you, too, Rogers!" said Quincy.
"Shut up! You're up against something now that gunplay doesn't figure in. You're aboard a Yankee hell ship, and you've got to make the best of it."
"I wouldn't if I had my gun," said Quincy, moodily.
"Yes," added Benson, "with a gun I could have my own way."
Rogers straightened back, looked them steadily in their faces, and said, "If you had your guns, what would you do?"
"Make this ship put back and land us," answered Quincy.
"Benson," said Rogers, "what would you do with a gun?"