A half-smothered laugh broke from Wirtz and others.
“We ask, then, that you land us,” said the Spaniard, whose audacity in continuing to address Greaves was scarcely less astonishing than the captain’s extraordinary exhibition of temper and wilder display of words.
“Mind that you are not landed at the bottom of the sea, with a twenty-four pound shot to keep you there,” cried Greaves. “Wirtz, did you knock that man down?”
“Yaw, captain,” responded Wirtz, in a voice that made one guess at the grin upon his face.
“You are a big man, Wirtz, and Antonio is a little man. Wirtz, I wish you may not be a coward at heart. Know you not,” cried Greaves, elevating his voice, “that it is written, ‘Make not an hungry soul sorrowful; neither provoke a man in his distress.’ The soul of Antonio is hungry for dollars and you have made him sorrowful; he is in distress, being shipwrecked and having lost all his clothes, and you have provoked him. Your grog is stopped for a week, Wirtz.”
“By Cott, but dot vhas hardt upon a man,” said the Dutchman.
“Now get forward, all hands,” exclaimed Greaves, “but mark you this; any man who raises his hand against another on board this brig goes into irons and forfeits his share of dollars. This is to be a peaceful and a smiling ship. We are going to get home sweetly and soberly; then comes your enjoyment—the pleasures of beasts or men, as you choose. Let no man say no to this.”
He walked aft; I thought he would stay to have a word with me. Instead he immediately descended into the cabin. The men moved forward, talking among themselves, some of them laughing.
Yan Bol came up to me and said:
“I tell you vhat, Mr. Fielding, der Captain Greaves vhas a very fine shentleman.”