“Dutchy,” said the skipper, “you're pretty smart.”
Von Staden smiled most companionably. “I also took the precaution to remove some weapons from your apartment.”
“Take anything from me, Dutchy, except my honor, my pipe and tobacco, and my ship. Take any one of those four, however, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul. Please hand me that book entitled Backwood's Surgery till I see what's good for a broken rib; then send the steward for my breakfast order. After that—well, after that you might make your will, Dutchy.”
“I did that in Pernambuco,” the delightful Herr von Staden replied, “so your advice is wasted.”
He handed the skipper the book on surgery and went out, carefully locking the door behind him. He returned presently and stood beside the steward, who thrust his head through the state-room window and desired to know the captain's choice of breakfast.
“A bowl of mush and milk, three soft-boiled eggs and a pot of coffee. No toast. Hurry!”
When the steward returned with the order he was accompanied by Mr. Schultz, the first mate. The sight of the traitor threw Mike into a furious rage.
“Mr. Schultz,” he said ominously, “the things I'm going to do to you would make the devil blush.”
“So?” Mr. Schultz replied soothingly.
“I'm going to hang von Staden. He's a pirate, and the rule of the Seven Seas is that a skipper hangs a pirate whenever he can lay hands on him. And you know me, Mr. Schultz. I'm a devil for etiquette aboard ship. As for you, you're only guilty of mutiny, so I'll content myself with tricing you up to the shrouds and flogging you with a cat soaked in brine.”