All this uproar immediately over the mate's head at last roused him
from his drunken nap, and he came staggering on deck.
"What's this?" he shouted, running right in among them.
"It's the Mowree, zur; they are going to murder him, zur," here sobbed
poor Rope Yarn, crawling close up to him.
"Avast! avast!" roared Jermin, making a spring toward Bembo, and
dashing two or three of the sailors aside. At this moment the wretch
was partly flung over the bulwarks, which shook with his frantic
struggles. In vain the doctor and others tried to save him: the men
listened to nothing.
"Murder and mutiny, by the salt sea!" shouted the mate; and dashing
his arms right and left, he planted his iron hand upon the Mowree's
shoulder.
"There are two of us now; and as you serve him, you serve me," he
cried, turning fiercely round.
"Over with them together, then," exclaimed the carpenter, springing
forward; but the rest fell back before the courageous front of
Jermin, and, with the speed of thought, Bembo, unharmed, stood upon
deck.
"Aft with ye!" cried his deliverer; and he pushed him right among the
men, taking care to follow him up close. Giving the sailors no time
to recover, he pushed the Mowree before him, till they came to the
cabin scuttle, when he drew the slide over him, and stood still.
Throughout, Bembo never spoke one word.
