Both men grinned broadly; the door was closed, and I heard one remark to the other in true cockney English—
“’E ain’t such a vi’lent fellow, after all, Bill.” Five minutes later the door was again opened, and a burly, full-bearded, black-eyed man in a pea-jacket and peaked cap entered the cabin.
“You are the captain, I presume?” I said.
“That’s me,” he answered, leaning against the wooden partition opposite my bunk.
“Well,” I said, “I’d like to know by what right you lock me up here? I’ve been unconscious for a long time, and on coming to myself, I find I’m here onboard your ship at sea, imprisoned, and not allowed out.”
“You’re in here for the benefit of your health,” he answered roughly. “A sea voyage’ll do you good.”
“Then perhaps you’ll tell me the name of the ship on board which I’m taking this pleasure trip?” I said sarcastically.
“Better find that out.”
“No very difficult matter, I suppose,” I answered quite coolly. “Only I should like to point out that even though you may be skipper of this coal hulk, you have no right to imprison me here.”
“I shall do just as I like, cocky,” he responded. “And further, you’d best be quiet and keep a still tongue, or perhaps you won’t see land again.”