"I am inclined to amuse myself in kicking you off the quarterdeck—perhaps it may have the effect of also scattering some of your wonderful magnetic charms, since I have heard that the hypnotic power is shattered by a shock to the seat of the nervous system."
These were brave words, truly, but if the man who gave utterance to them expected the other to show any symptom of fear, he certainly counted without his host.
Perhaps he imagined the alarmed sailor would put up a plea for mercy, would even drop on his knees in suing for pardon.
Such a melo-dramatic action would be a rare spectacle for the gods—in order to appear the more heroic in the sight of this fair girl Jerome might even have magnanimously declined to carry on warfare when the enemy sued for peace—he was a man who never neglected an opportunity to pose as a magnificent figure before feminine eyes.
Contrary to his expectation, however, the affair did not take on this guise.
Instead of showing the white feather the enemy at once hoisted signals of defiance.
He began to coolly and deliberately roll back the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
The act was intended for supreme scorn—it meant that he snapped his fingers contemptuously in the face of the Adonis—it meant that he prepared himself in nautical language, to "resist boarders."
There was trouble in prospect.
Jerome had gone too far to back down—he must either put his words into execution or give evidence of cowardice.