“I do blame you, lad,” replied the captain seriously. “In the first place, you had no right to take the law into your own hands. In the second place, your knocking down the man did no good whatever to your shipmate; and in the third place, you’ve got yourself and me and the ship into a very unsatisfactory scrape.”
Rokens’ face, which had hitherto expressed approval of Glynn’s conduct, began to elongate as the captain went on in this strain; and the youth’s recklessness of manner altogether disappeared as inquired, “How so, captain? I have escaped, as you see; and poor Sling, of course, was not to blame, so he’ll be all safe aboard, and well, I hope, by this time.”
“There you’re mistaken, boy. They will have secured Sling and made him tell the name of his ship, and also the name of his pugnacious comrade.”
“And do you think he’d be so mean as to tell?” asked Glynn indignantly.
“You forget that the first act in this nice little melodrama was the knocking down of Sling, so that he could not know what happened after, and the police would not be so soft as to tell him why they wanted such information until after they had got it.”
Poor Glynn looked aghast, and Rokens was overwhelmed.
“It seems to me, I’d better go and see about this,” said Millons, rising and buttoning his coat with the air of a man who had business to transact and meant to transact it.
“Right, Millons,” answered the captain. “I’m sorry to break up our evening so soon, but we must get this man aboard by hook or crook as speedily as possible. You had better go too, doctor. Rokens and I will take care of this young scamp, who must be made a nigger of in order to be got on board, for his face, once seen by these sharp limbs of justice, is not likely soon to be forgotten.”
Glynn Proctor was indeed a youth whose personal appearance was calculated to make a lasting impression on most people. He was about eighteen years of age, but a strong, well-developed muscular frame, a firm mouth, a large chin, and an eagle eye, gave him the appearance of being much older. He was above the middle height, but not tall, and the great breadth of his shoulders and depth of his chest made him appear shorter than he really was. His hair was of that beautiful hue called nut-brown, and curled close round his well-shaped head. He was a model of strength and activity.
Glynn Proctor had many faults. He was hasty and reckless. He was unsteady, too, and preferred a roving idle life to a busy one; but he had redeeming qualities. He was bold and generous. Above all, he was unselfish, and therefore speedily became a favourite with all who knew him. Glynn’s history is briefly told. He was an Englishman. His father and mother had died when he was a child, and left him in charge of an uncle, who emigrated to America shortly after his brother’s death. The uncle was a good man, after a fashion, but he was austere and unlovable. Glynn didn’t like him; so when he attained the age of thirteen, he quietly told him that he meant to bid him good-bye, and go seek his fortune in the world. The uncle as quietly told Glynn that he was quite right, and the sooner he went the better. So Glynn went, and never saw his uncle again, for the old man died while he was abroad.