"I happen to be in command of this tug for the present moment, and I want an answer without stopping all day to talk about it."
"Well, youngster, I don't reckon I'll tell you any thing about it. I get my orders from Major Pierson," replied the engineer sourly.
"The Leopard is in my charge, and I must ask you to show me where your bunk is; and after you have done that, I shall ask you to get into it, and stay there," said Christy, with decision enough for the needs of the occasion.
At the same time he took the revolver from his pocket, and pointed it towards the head of the engineer.
"You can take your choice, Mr. Spikeley: you can get into your bunk, or have your carcass thrown into the bay; and you haven't got a great while to think of it."
The engineer seemed to be properly impressed by the sight of the weapon, and he could see that the chambers contained cartridges. He rose from his seat, and moved towards the door of the engine-room.
"I heard some of the men say you was a Yank, and I reckon you be," said Spikeley. "What are you go'n to do?"
"I am going to get you into your bunk, where you will be more comfortable than you are here. Move on!"
The man obeyed; for he was unarmed, and he did not like the looks of the revolver. Without another word, he moved forward, and descended to the forecastle. As soon as he was below the deck, Christy closed the scuttle, and secured it with the toggle.