“Th’ secon’ mate, Mr. Panchito, Cap’n, sah. You done scared him till he’s green as a lizard.”
“Lock him up, Rufus. The pantry will do. Step lively.”
Mr. Panchito offered no resistance. It was a thing to be thankful for that the Yellow Tiger had spared his life. Having tucked him away, Captain Cary exclaimed:
“Now, Rufus Pilley, help me lug Mr. Duff to his room. He will wake up with a headache. Sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“Thank you, sah. When you gits done an’ finished with disciplinin’ the crew, kin I serve you a tasty suppah, Cap’n? It looks like it’s hungry wuk a-conquerin’ all hands like th’ way you started off.”
“You are a sensible man,” grinned Cary. “We’ll get on well.”
They left Mr. Duff in his room. He displayed no interest. Cary looked in at Señor Ramon Bazán. It was like being in charge of an infirmary. The aged treasure-seeker was awake. He demanded a nip of rum and lime-juice. It was an auspicious symptom. Rufus Pilley, very sympathetic, volunteered as a nurse for the night. He trotted off to mix the drink.
“I was afraid you were fighting, Ricardo,” said Papa Ramon. “If you will bring the chief officer here, I can explain it so he will understand you are the captain.”
“Oh, Mr. Duff is quiet enough,” was the careless reply. “He has just turned in. You heard something smash? Mr. Duff dropped a bottle. You turn over and go to sleep again as soon as the steward brings the toddy. We are off for Cocos Island in the morning, with a westward ho and a rumbelow!”
“I am a very happy old man, Ricardo. Yes, I will sleep like a child. The ship is safe with you.”