Unhand me, I say! Oh! I'll pay you for this, some
day! Come on, Captain Guy!"
At this appeal, the poor man was seized with a perfect spasm of
fidgets. "Pooh, pooh, carpenter; have done with your nonsense! Let
him up, sir; let him up! Do you hear? Let Mr. Jermm come on deck!"
"Go along with you, Paper Jack," replied Beauty; "this quarrel's
between the mate and me; so go aft, where you belong!"
As the captain once more dipped his head down the scuttle to make
answer, from an unseen hand he received, full in the face, the
contents of a tin can of soaked biscuit and tea-leaves. The doctor
was not far off just then. Without waiting for anything more, the
discomfited gentleman, with both hands to his streaming face,
retreated to the quarter-deck.
A few moments more, and Jermin, forced to a compromise, followed
after, in his torn frock and scarred face, looking for all the world
as if he had just disentangled himself from some intricate piece of
machinery. For about half an hour both remained in the cabin, where
the mate's rough tones were heard high above the low, smooth voice of
the captain.
Of all his conflicts with the men, this was the first in which Jermin
had been worsted; and he was proportionably enraged. Upon going
below - as the steward afterward told us - he bluntly informed Guy
that, for the future, he might look out for his ship himself; for his
part, he had done with her, if that was the way he allowed his
officers to be treated.
