"Guess we could sink that little steam can as easy as swallowin' a cocktail," remarked the mate. "Say, Cap'n, do we butt in here?"
Instead of answering, Calamity stepped up to the engine-room telegraph and rang down "Stop!" By this time the Germans could be seen conveying things from the liner to their own vessel, and, somehow or other, the rumour spread among the Hawk's crew that they were bullion cases. Presently the liner was allowed to proceed on her way, and the German steamed off in a north-easterly direction. Then Calamity rang down, "Full speed!" to the engine-room and turned to the mate.
"Follow that packet," he said, indicating the German, "but don't overhaul her."
"Then we're goin' to let that square-head breeze away?" asked Mr. Dykes in a tone of acute disappointment. "Durned if this lay-out don't get me stuck," he went on. "We could have froze on to them bars ourselves."
His opinion of Captain Calamity had touched zero by now, and he hardly troubled to conceal his contempt. He, like the remainder of the Hawk's company, knew that she was engaged on a privateering expedition, and was eager to "taste blood." And it must be admitted that Calamity had induced many of the men to ship with him by holding out promises of fat bonuses, with, perhaps, the opportunity of a little plundering thrown in. Now, when chance had thrown what appeared to be a rich prize under their very noses, the skipper was calmly letting it slip through his fingers.
It was pretty obvious that the mate's resentment was shared by the crew. For the last half-hour they had lined the bulwarks, watching the Germans transfer their plunder from the liner. Every man-Jack of them felt certain that, in the course of a very short time, that same plunder would find its way on board the Hawk with material benefit to themselves. When, however, it was seen that the Captain had no intention of carrying out their notion, scowling faces were turned towards the bridge, and there were angry mutterings. Soon the muttering grew louder, and at last one of the men, a huge serang, stepped out of the crowd, and shook his fist at Calamity, who was watching from the bridge.
Then, urged on by the others, he demanded that the ship should be put back to Singapore and the men discharged with a month's wages. They did not like, he said, being on a ship without knowing what port she was bound for. They did not like the officers, and, more than anything else, they did not like the Captain. The spokesman wound up his peroration in broken English by hinting that, unless the Hawk was put about at once, the crew would take charge of her.
All this while Calamity had stood leaning on the bridge-rail, listening to the serang with an expression of quiet, almost anxious, attention. The mate, watching him out of the corner of his eyes, saw no sign of that terrible berserker rage with which he had so often heard the Captain credited. In fact, a member of Parliament could not have listened to a deputation of constituents with more polite attention.
"I reckon if we don't do what they want they'll hand out some trouble," said the mate. "Them that ain't got one knife ready at their hips has got two."
Calamity made no answer, but a peculiar pallor had overspread his face. He turned away from the bridge-rail, and, without any sign of haste, descended the companion-ladder and stepped calmly into the midst of the snarling rabble.