Meanwhile, the ship's company related to all comers that the prisoner was a pretty good fellow, with the makings of a sailorman, although the skipper "had a down on him."
The officers' mess agreed that Captain Home was a pompous ass, sitting on a mare's nest, and making a ridiculous fuss about some youngster falsely accused of felony.
At the mess the Reverend Herbert Beaver observed over his wine that he had already reported to the Aborigines Protection Society of London on the hideous and callous immorality of the present company, and if this parricide were not at once committed for trial he in fact would proceed—to take steps.
Doctor McLoughlin rang for Bruce, took a pinch of snuff, released the servants, then requested the Reverend Chaplain to resign from the mess, because it was intended only for the use of gentlemen.
The Reverend Beaver having flounced out of the room in a huff, and banged the door, the chief factor bowed to the delighted officers, who came about him as he stood to receive their congratulations. "Do you know, gentlemen," he said, "I agree with the chaplain. Yes. I regret to say that for once I find myself in agreement with Mr. Beaver.
"Now, James," he turned to Douglas, "please don't give Mr. Beaver ground for complaints against you to the Government of Lower Canada from which you hold Commission of the Peace."
"You mean sir, that I should try this rotten case?"
"I do, Jim, really. I have my reasons too. And Jim," he winked at the magistrate, "may I be prisoner's friend?"'
There was a roar of laughter.
"And mind you, Jim, no hole-and-corner business. All white men should be present, as witnesses to the fact that Mr. Beaver has no grounds for complaint either against you or against me."