"My watch so soon," grumbled the lad sleepily, "Seems like I just got to sleep."
"It's only eleven o'clock," said Walter in excited tones, "but Manuel came aboard an hour ago very drunk. He must have brought liquor with him for they are all raising merry Ned in the forecastle now. The captain and Chris are on deck. Hurry up, there's likely to be trouble any minute."
Charley slipped hastily into his clothing and securing his revolver ran on deck. His three companions with revolvers in their hands were ranged across the deck just aft of the mainmast. From the forecastle, forward, came an uproar of shouting, cursing, and fighting.
The old sailor was blaming himself, bitterly. "I'd ought to have thought of it," he exclaimed, "Auguident is cheap as water in Cuba an' those smacks always carry a lot of it to trade off for other things. What an old fool I was."
"What shall we do?" Charley asked.
"Nothing, but let 'em fight it out amongst themselves an' keep 'em from crowding aft on us. Our lives wouldn't be worth a pinch of snuff if we went down to quiet them. If any of 'em tries to come aft of the mainmast, shoot him."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a figure burst out of the forecastle and came running aft followed by several others staggering, shouting and cursing.
The captain raised his pistol and took deliberate aim as the flying man drew near.
"Stop, or I'll shoot," he commanded.
Charley knocked aside his upraised arm. "Let him pass," he cried, "it's the strange sailor, they have been trying to kill him."