With a wistful glance at the handspike, the girl walked to the cabin, followed slowly by the skipper.
“This is a bad business,” said the latter, shaking his head solemnly, as the indignant Miss Rumbolt seated herself.
“Don’t talk to me, you coward!” said the girl energetically.
The skipper started.
“I made three of ’em run,” said Miss Rumbolt, “and you did nothing. You just stood still, and let them take the ship. I’m ashamed of you.”
The skipper’s defence was interrupted by a hoarse voice shouting to them to come on deck, where they found the mutinous crew gathered aft round the mate. The girl cast a look at the shore, which was now dim and indistinct, and turned somewhat pale as the serious nature of her position forced itself upon her.
“Lewis,” said the mate.
“Well,” growled the skipper.
“This ship’s going in the lace and brandy trade, and if so be as you’re sensible you can go with it as mate, d’ye hear?”
“An’ s’pose I do; what about the lady?” inquired the captain.