“‘Can ye swim?’ asks the captain.
“‘Never you mind whether I can or not,’ says the bailiff, looking round at us, for all hands was collected and listening their hardest.
“‘Because,’ says the captain, ‘if you can’t swim you’d better turn to and hail that boat to come back again and put ye ashore.’
“‘No, no,’ says the bailiff, ‘I’m not going ashore, my friend. I’m here to take charge o’ this brig and stop her from going to sea.’
“Had the captain chosen then and there to give orders for that bailiff to be dropped overboard, I believe I’m the man as would have executed the command. Taking the temper I was then in, I don’t know anything that would ha’ given me more satisfaction to perform. The aggravation of being stopped when we were all ready to get away was the least part of it: it was the bailiff’s cool grins, the impudence in his eyes as he looked round, as much as to say, ‘All what I see is mine,’ his taking the skipper’s place and saying ye shan’t do this, and I won’t allow that, that made me want to lay hands upon him. The captain stared at him a bit, as if considering what he should do; then turning to me, he asked me the time. I told him.
“‘In another quarter of an hour,’ says he, ‘loose the torpsails and make ready to get away.’
“‘You’d better not,’ says the bailiff; ‘it’ll be gross contempt of court if you do.’
“‘Court!’ says the skipper, ‘Court! there is no court here, Mr. Bailiff. This is a brig, not a court. Don’t talk of courts to me. The gross contempt is of your committing. How dare you stand there ordering of me?’
“‘Rest assured,’ says the bailiff, ‘you’ll be punished if you don’t do what I say. You’ll have to purge in open court, and that’s a job that may cost ye enough to lay you up in the union for the rest of your natural days.’
“‘Stow that,’ says I, doubling up my fist and stepping close to the fellow; ‘if the captain stands that kind o’ jaw, I won’t.’