"Look here," he said, "I don't quite know what you want me to do."
"Put the varmints into irons, I guess," suggested Captain Abe.
"Then who'll work the ship?" asked Jack. "There is bad weather coming, judging by the glass and the look of things. Short-handed, you'll be in a jolly tight corner. Those fellows have a grievance, although they were in the wrong to kick up a shindy. I can't lend you any hands, so what are you going to do?"
"Dashed if I know," admitted Captain Abe, in perplexity. "Say, what would you?"
"You've been at sea a jolly sight longer than I have, I should say," continued Villiers. "So it seems like teaching my grandmother to tell you how to handle men. Meet them half-way. If you've a grievance and they have one, there's always the Consular Courts to appeal to. That's better than jumping round the deck with sheath-knives and revolvers."
"Guess you're about right," considered Captain Abe. "Just you sound 'em for me, young man. For my part, I'm willin'."
Villiers went for'ard. In five minutes he had "talked over" the crew. They, too, were willing to carry on as before, on the understanding that a competent cook was shipped at the next port they touched.
Jack, proud of his moral victory, shook hands with the Yankee skipper and the two mates, and returned to the Titania.
"It's all right, now, sir," he reported. "They're carrying on."
At that moment the Titania, forging slowly ahead, was passing under the stern and within half a cable's length of the becalmed Lucy M. Partington.