'There is a man leaning in the door of the caboose—now I look again I see it is the boatswain—whose face my daughter tells me is formidable with temper. I do not clearly see all that way off. I hope it will mean no fresh trouble about the stores. Let them know I have ordered pieces of the pork and beef to be boiled for our mid-day meal.'
Whilst he was speaking, Glew's eyes were fixed upon the boatswain, who, at the moment that Vanderholt ceased, withdrew. Glew's attitude was immediately and insensibly charged with malice and danger, with passions quickly growing and contending, by the odd, crouching air he carried, whilst he had watched the boatswain and listened to his employer.
'That Jones,' he said, 'is the right sort of forecastle scoundrel to breed a mutiny, and if he troubles me to-day we must have him out of it, Mr. Vanderholt, in the approved old method. Mr. Tweed, can you lay your hands readily upon a set of irons for that fellow?'
The mate answered:
'The carpenter has charge of the irons, sir, and the carpenter is, unfortunately, the boatswain himself.'
'Go forward,' said Captain Glew, 'and ask the man to give you a set of irons.'
'Stop!' exclaimed Mr. Vanderholt, glancing at the helmsman, whose eyes were upon Glew, and who was clearly a listener. 'We must have no talk of irons in this vessel, until something has been done to warrant their introduction.'
'If there should come a difficulty,' was the captain's answer, 'we may find it impossible to get forward so as to procure the irons. I like to be beforehand.'
'I'll not have it!' said Mr. Vanderholt, with warmth.
Captain Glew simply said, 'Ay, ay, sir,' and turned his face to the sun, with his sextant lifted.