"That depends upon circumstances," interposed Lindsley.
"I suppose it does," sneered Howe. "It isn't fair to leave us to bear the brunt of the whole."
"All we ever proposed to do was simply to refuse to do duty till we had explained our position to the principal," added Raymond.
"And kiss the rod, whether you get fair play or not," replied Howe.
"We can't do anything more than that. When the principal understands that over forty of us are dissatisfied, we have gained our point."
"Have you indeed!" flouted Howe. "Then I fancy you have already gained it, for he has found out that you are dissatisfied by this time."
"Well, what do you want to do?" demanded Raymond.
"It's no use to mince the matter. We have made a failure of it so far. The lambs on deck are having a good time, laughing, cheering, and carrying on—making game of us, no doubt, while we are shut up here as prisoners," replied Howe, rolling up his sleeves, as though he intended to do something savage. "We ought to make ourselves felt, which we haven't done yet, for the rest of the ship's company seem to regard our movement as a good joke, and to think we are having the worst of it. Well, I think we are; and we must make ourselves felt."
"Do you call it making yourselves felt when you are pounded on the head with belaying pins, as you were in the Josephine?" inquired Lindsley, dryly.
"We raised a breeze there, and we are bound to do it here."