Then the heart of the skipper waxed sore faint within him, and, with a wild yell, he summoned his trusty crew to his side.
The crew came on deck slowly, and casting furtive glances at the scene, pushed Ephraim Biddle to the front.
“Take those mops away from ’em,” said the skipper haughtily.
“Don’t you interfere,” said Miss Evans, looking at them over her shoulder.
“Else we’ll give you some,” said Miss Williams bloodthirstily.
“Take those mops away from ’em!” bawled the skipper, instinctively drawing back as Miss Evans made a pass at him.
“I don’t see as ’ow we can interfere, sir,” said Biddle with deep respect.
“What!” said the astonished skipper.
“It would be agin the lor for us to interfere with people,” said Biddle, turning to his mates, “dead agin the lor.”
“Don’t you talk rubbish,” said the skipper anxiously. “Take ’em away from ’em. It’s my tar and my paint, and—”