"I feel sure that an appeal to the men's reason, such as I shall make to-morrow, will not fail in its effect."
"An appeal to their reason, sir!" gasped the mate.
"Yes. A mild demonstration of the absurdity of attempting to mutiny."
"I don't get you, sir."
"No? Well, muster all hands on deck at eight bells. Good-night, Mr. Dykes."
"Good-night, sir," answered the mate, and, walking to the bridge-rail, expectorated over the side. "Well," he muttered, "if it ain't enough to make a feller spit blood. An appeal to their reason! Gee, he'll be holdin' family prayers in the cabin next."
At six bells, which was an hour before his watch was up, the mate perceived a man mounting the bridge-ladder.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, "who are you?"
"Brunton, sir," answered the man.
"Well, what d'you want? It's not your watch."