I sprang across the deck, and, by such light as the stars made, beheld Antonio in the act of getting on to his legs.
“Mind! He may have a knife!” shouted Teach. The Spaniard, uttering a malediction, whipped a blade from a sheath that lay strapped to his hip, and flung it upon the deck. The point of the weapon pierced the plank, and the knife stood upright.
“I am no assassin! I do not draw knives upon men!” cried Antonio.
“Who knocked this man down?” I demanded.
“I—Vertz.
“You are a bully and a ruffian. This is a shipwrecked man, scarce recovered from great sufferings. He is half your size, too.”
“He talked of his share, Heer Fielding, und my bloodt poiled. We safe his life, he eats und drinks, und der toyfil has der impudence to talk of his share!”
“Forward there! What is wrong?” cried the voice of Greaves. “Where is Mr. Fielding?”
“Here, sir.”
“What is wrong, I am asking.”