Gregory appeared, looking more defiant, if possible, than when he was committed. For nearly a week he had been kept in his state-room. The captain had offered to allow him and Clinch to take an airing on the poop-deck every day for a couple of hours, under the eye of the boatswain, who was not to permit them to speak to any of the ship’s company; but both of them indignantly declined the proposition,—they would not go on deck as prisoners.
“As I seem to be subject to your will and pleasure, O’Hara, I wish to say that you have carried this thing about far enough,” said the ex-first officer, when he came into the presence of the captain.
“That’s just my idea,” added Clinch, turning up his nose to express his contempt for the young commander of the steamer.
“If you wish to see me in order to intimidate me, I have nothing to say,” replied the captain, with dignity; but he was greatly disappointed at the tone and manner of the mutineers.
“I think we were clearly in the right in refusing to do duty when you were running away with the vessel,” continued Gregory.
“I do not care to argue the matter,” added O’Hara.
“I want to know who is right.”
“The principal will decide that in due time.”
“The principal is not here to decide any thing.”
“We can only wait till we see him.”