“You bumped into old Ramon Bazán on the beach and knocked him on the head, that’s what you did,” retorted the inflamed Mr. Duff. “You are addled if you figure on putting this stuff over on me. If you don’t want to be thrown overboard, beat it. What I ought to do is put you in irons and turn you over to the police. I’ll go see if Ramon Bazán is really aboard and what you did to him. If you turn out to be just a harmless boob of a lunatic, I don’t want to be too rough with you.”
“Stay right here in the saloon, Mr. Duff, and please keep your hands on the table. If you swell up any more, you’ll break a blood vessel and then I am shy a chief officer. You will have to brace up to-morrow. You keep a rotten lookout and the ship is slack and filthy. How many men are ashore?”
“None of your bloody business,” was the savage reply. “Here, I’ve stood enough silly play-acting from you.”
Pot-bellied beach-comber though he was, Bradley Duff refused to strike his colors. He was honest in his belief that this was an unlawful invasion. There were men enough on board if he could get word to them. And at any minute a boat-load was due to arrive from the wharf. He kicked his plump companion as a signal for action. One of them might succeed in breaking for the deck to summon help.
Snatching a bottle from the tray, Mr. Duff hurled it with a mighty swing of his thick arm. Cary ducked his head. A miss was as good as a mile. To his sincere regret, he was in for a disturbance.
Before the enraged Mr. Duff could fling another bottle, Cary jumped forward and tapped him over the head with the butt of the heavy pistol. Too bad, but it had to be done! The blow was not meant to be deadly. It was enough to put the unlucky chief officer to sleep.
A pink silk shirt was streaking it for the saloon door. Captain Cary thrust out a foot and the plump young man fell. He rebounded like a ball. Catching him on the rebound, Cary called to the elderly steward:
“Do you talk English? What’s your name?”
“Rufus Pilley, sah. I’se a British subjec’ f’um Jamaica, if you please, Cap’n, an’ I stands on mah rights to be treated right. You don’t have to blam me with no pistol. At yo’ service, sah.”
“Bully for you, Rufus. Your views are sound. Who is this hot sport that I hold in my hands? Does he belong on board?”