“Dis vhas your doing,” said Van Laar, looking at me; and he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and held it clenched.
“Make no reference to that gentleman,” cried Greaves, “I am the captain of this ship, and all that is done is of my doing. I await your answer.”
“Vy der doyvil,” said Van Laar deliberately, with his eyes fastened upon my face, “vhas not you drown? Shall I tell you? Because you vhas reserve for anoder sort of end,” and here he bestowed a very significant nod upon me.
I felt the blood in my cheeks. I could have whipped him up the steps and overboard for talking to me like that. I looked at Greaves, met his glance, bit my lip, and held my peace.
“Which will you do, Mr. Van Laar?” said Captain Greaves. “If you do not answer for yourself I will find an answer for you.”
“Gott, but I hov brought my hogs, as you English say, to a pretty market. I am dere servant of Mynheer Bartholomew Tulp.”
“I am master of this ship and you are my mate. I can break you and send you forward. I can have you triced up and your broad breech ribbanded. I can swing you at the yardarm till your neck is as long as an emu’s. Why do I tell you this? Because you are ignorant of the sea and must learn that my powers are not to be disputed by any man under me, from you down, or, as I would rather say, from you up,” he added, with a sarcastic sneer.
“Vhat vhas your offer?” said the mate.
There was a perversity in this man’s stupidity that was very irritating. The captain quietly named again the alternative.
“Vat vhas dis voyage about?” inquired the mate.