"But they made no effort to warn me."
"The others said they'd kill them if they did."
"I see."
Calamity leant back in his chair and surveyed his prisoner with the calm, questioning scrutiny of a scientist surveying some new and interesting specimen.
"So," he remarked at length, "it never occurred to any of you that I might be acquainted with everything that went on in the foc'sle; you even felt sure that I knew nothing of the little indignation meeting you held last Sunday. You were actually such fools as to suppose that, having shipped the worst gang of port vermin that ever soiled a ship's decks, I should remain quietly in my cabin in the hope that they were behaving themselves like decent men. I never thought that rascality and faith went hand in hand."
Skelt made no answer, and the Captain rang a little hand-bell on the table. Next moment the steward, a huge Chinaman called Sing-hi, entered the cabin.
"You lingee?" he inquired.
"Yes." Calamity turned to the prisoner. "Have you anything to say?" he asked.
"For God's sake don't be hard on me," implored the would-be murderer with abject piteousness. "Give me a chance, sir, and I'll do anything for you. Only one chance, sir, only one, and, before Christ, I'll be your slave."
A queer smile came over Calamity's face as he regarded the cringing servility of the ruffian.