I shivered with the intensity of the tale, the horror of it all. The old man sat silent in the gloom and the spark of light from his cigar end flared and faded as he drew upon it. He was thinking of the past. I waited.
"Well, what was I to do? I was a man, a ship master, and here I was with my arm shattered by a heavy bullet from a mere boy—or devil! What could I do?
"Yes, then I whipped him—whipped him until the men turned away. I will not tell you of it—it was too horrible.
"It was four weeks before I could get about the deck from the effects of that pistol shot. I had little medicine aboard. There I was limping about with a broken arm, and there was Bowles limping about with the tendons of his back cut through. It was awful. The men grinned. Yes, the men grinned at us. I had an extra padlock put upon the stateroom where Willie stayed, and he was kept tight after that.
"At the end of a month Willie was all but dead. The terrific heat, the gases from the cargo and the close confinement told upon his weak frame. I saw that he would not last much longer. He would die in the ship, and I remembered the words of his father--'bring him back; be sure and bring him back!' There was an old man in the crew named Jim. He was half fish and the rest salt and rope-yarn. He offered to take the boy in hand and try to train him. I let him have a chance, always having him close at hand to stop any trouble with a pair of irons. And when he turned in the boy was locked up again. But there was no talk of doing right, no promise to be fair or obey orders from the little chap. I saw he would break out at the first opportunity and refused to give him one. I had old Jim read the Bible to him every day to see if I couldn't get him interested in religion. He liked that part of the Old Testament where it is especially bloody and deals with the desperate fighting of men, but when it came to other parts he lost interest.
"'Say, cull, do youse believe dat yarn erbout de whale--say? Aw, gwan! don't spring nothin' funny on me, Bo. Gimme some of de hot stuff or cut it--see? Dat kid David was de stuff! Gimme some more o' his work, or let it go at dat. He might have hove de rock an' hit de giant in de neck--but I doubts it; but maybe so, maybe so. Dat giant warn't no bigger'n Bowles, I reckon--'n I c'u'd do fer him easy enough, as youse know. Yes, I c'u'd a dun up dat giant all right wid any sort er weaping--knife or rock--I'm a sort o' giant killer myself----'
"'You ain't got de nerve to do nothing like that, boy. Shut up and listen!' said Jim.
"'Say, Bo, don't youse make no mistake erbout me noive. I got de whole gang of youse beat to a gantline. I c'u'd stick youse all back in de lazereet an' not half woik. Aw, say, Jimmy, youse ain't got me measure quite right--see? Guess onct more, old boy; but go erlong an' read some more of de fight to me. I likes it all right.' And so they would chat together and I would listen to try and fathom the boy's mind. It was peculiar. And yet under it all was that vast ego, that immense regard for the opinions of others--not alone himself--he was too young yet, but for himself was the greatest, the self-respect. He was a leader, a boy with a soul--you may laugh when you think him a fiend, a perfect devil, if you will, but he was all right in some things.
"I was more afraid of Rose, my mate.
"Rose was a quiet man, a driver, and he had struck down the boy and beaten him to a jelly. The boy never alluded to it, never spoke of it even to Jim. That's where the danger lay. I felt that they would finish the fight when I let the lad loose, and dared not do so for a long time. Once when Jim had the boy on deck I caught Rose gazing at him with a peculiar steady light in his eyes. He just stood looking at the boy for nearly a full minute--then the lad turned and looked right into his eyes with the same peculiar steadiness--a stare that was unblinking, yet not strained. Willie had those light eyes, almost colorless, like his father. So had Rose, and they told each other so plainly what was behind their eyes that I almost smiled; but it was no smiling work, even if there was a boy in it. Rose showed plainly that he would wring the boy's neck at the first outfly, and was regardless of consequences. Rose was not a man to trifle with, yet when you remember that I was shot and the second mate cut, there was reason for the chief to throw out all sentiment. And so I kept Willie under Jim's care until we reached Hong-Kong. Then the old seaman wanted to go ashore and take the boy with him, promising not to go near a grog-shop. You can't trust a windjammer ashore after a long voyage, no matter how good a man he is. Jim came back to the ship that night the worse for wear, and told a tale of the boy slipping away from him in the streets. The man was drunk and I had him sent down in irons. Then I sent out a call for the police.