“If you think we are to be frightened, hang you,” said he, “you are much mistaken. What is it you want?”
A coarse laugh greeted this tame ending to his speech. One old tar put himself forward before Callan could reply.
“It’s like this,” said he, with a salute. “We mean no disrespect to the captain or the service, but—”
“Hold your tongue,” said Callan, pushing him aside.—“What do we want? That’s easy told.”
And he took a paper from his pocket and read:—
“First. The first lieutenant, the third lieutenant, the master, the master’s mate, the boatswain, and Midshipmen Gamble and Brock, to leave the ship and be put ashore.
“Second. The ship to be taken to the Nore, and placed under the orders of Admiral Parker.
“Third. The remaining officers either to take the oath or be placed under arrest.
“Fourth. Two delegates, chosen by the men, to attend the admiral’s council, and act and vote on behalf of the ship.”
Lieutenant Adrian listened with an ill-concealed smile, in which, I confess, he was by no means alone.