The Captain had been standing in the shadow of the entrance listening to the Bo's'n's ravings. He now entered and approached the man.
"What's the matter with him?" he said, looking at me. "He's been working his jawing tackle for the last ten minutes steady."
"I think his case is serious, Captain," said I. "I really think he's lost his mind. He's been rolling round here like a madman."
The Captain turned his gaze on the Bo's'n.
"You said you hoped I'd come in," said he. "Now don't put any stopper on that jawing tackle of yours; go right on. I shall know how to fix you, for it's mutiny, Mr. Bo's'n, and so you'll find out, rank mutiny!"
"Oh, is it?" said the Bo's'n, with stony face and glittering eye.
The Bo's'n raised his finger in air and shook it at me. He then took a long breath and began, his hand shaking alternately at me and at the Skipper.
"Damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you, sir, and damn you again, sir! Do you hear me damning you, Mr. Jones, sir? And that damn Cap'n, too, sir. Do you know what you done, sir, damn you? Do you know that all those watches, and all those sparklers, and all those rings, and all those chains, those emerals, and rubies, and saffirs, and tuppazes, and diminds, and jools you said was worth a king's ransom—all, all, all was inclosed and enwrapped and encompassed and secreted in them damn carcasses?" I fell upon the ground and writhed worse than the Bo's'n had done.