Jorg came stolidly below, and began shackling his chains to the ring-bolts, paying no more attention to me than to a man raving in delirium. He looked at me curiously and shook his head.
“Youse’ll get over it, friend John, in a day or two,” he said, and went on deck.
CHAPTER XVII.
SIR JOHN AND MISS ALLEN
While I stood there, sweating in the heat and pain below, expecting the reappearance of the old steward, I heard the windlass at work again, and faint cries as of men straining up the topsails.
Suddenly I recognized Hawkson’s voice near the main-hatch, and a moment later the section was slid aside and he came below.
“Get me out of this!” I roared at him, as he came up. “Get me out, or there’ll be murder aboard.”
“Steady, steady! D’ye expect me to turn ye loose when ye talk of murder? Sink ye, Heywood! what’s come over ye, anyways?”
“If you’re the man you claim to be,” I said, hotly, “turn my hands loose, and stand before me for ten minutes. Only ten minutes, Hawkson, and, if I don’t kill you, you may eat me alive. You may choose any weapon, and I’ll take my bare--”
“Tut, tut, what kind o’ hysteria is this? What’d I want t’eat ye alive for? Sink ye for a crazy boy! who’d eat a tough youngster like you, boy? What--well--oh, ho!”
He had come close to me, and had noticed my ear. Then he chuckled in his quiet way, his ugly face working with amusement.