Facing the World

The two men looked at each other, moved a step forward, and then stopped.

“Is this mutiny?” roared the captain, with a bloodcurdling oath. “Am I master in my own ship or not?”

What might have been the issue is hard to tell, had not the Yankee passenger already referred to, Jonathan Stubbs, come forward and taken up the gauntlet.

“Look here, cap’n,” he commenced, in a drawling tone, “what’s all this fuss you’re kickin’ up? You’re kinder riled, ain’t you?”

“Who are you that dare to bandy words with me? Men, do you hear me? Put that boy in irons, or must I do it myself?”

“Look here, cap’n, let’s argy that matter a little,” said Stubbs. “What’s the boy to be put in irons for?”

“For grossly insulting me, and defying my authority.”

“He has prevented your committing murder, if that’s what you mean. You ought to thank him.”

“Take care, sir!” thundered the captain, “or I may put you in irons, also.”

“I reckon you might find a little opposition,” said the Yankee, quietly. “I’m a passenger on this vessel, Captain Hill, and your authority doesn’t extend to me.”

“We’ll see about that, sir,” said the captain, and he grasped Stubbs by the collar.

Now, the Yankee was not a heavy man, but he was very strong and wiry, and, moreover, in his early days, like Abraham Lincoln, he had been the best wrestler in the Vermont village in which he was born. He was a very quiet, peaceable man, but he was accustomed to resent insult in an effective way. He wrenched himself free by a powerful effort; then, with a dexterous movement of one of his long legs, he tripped up the captain, who fell in a heap upon the deck. The shock, added to the effects of his intoxication, seemed to stupefy the captain, who remained where he fell.

“Boys,” said Stubbs, coolly, to the two sailors, who had been ordered to put Harry in irons, “hadn’t you better help the captain into his cabin? He seems to be unwell.”

Just then the mate came on deck. He didn’t make inquiries, but took in the situation at a glance, and assisted the captain to his feet.

“Shall I help you downstairs, sir?” he asked.

The captain silently acquiesced, and the prime actor in this rather startling scene left the deck.

Jack Pendleton scrambled down from his elevated perch with the agility of a cat. He ran up to Harry, and grasped his hand with evident emotion.

“You have saved my life!” he said. “I will always be your friend. I would lay down my life for you.”

“It’s all right, Jack,” said Harry, rather shyly. “You would have done the same for me.”

“Yes, I would,” answered Jack, heartily, “But there’s no one else who would have done it for me.”

“Are you going to leave me out, my boy?” asked the Yankee, with a smile on his plain but good-natured face.

“No, sir,” responded Jack. “You stood up to the captain like a man. He didn’t frighten you.”

“No, I wasn’t much scared,” drawled Stubbs, contorting his features drolly. “But, I say, young man, I’ve got a piece of advice to give you. You don’t seem to be much of a favorite with the captain.”

“It doesn’t look so,” said Jack, laughing in spite of the danger through which he had passed.

“Just you keep out of his way as much as you can. When a man gets as full as he does, he’s apt to be dangerous.”

“Thank you, sir; I will.”

Among the spectators of the scene just described, the most panic-stricken, probably was Montgomery Clinton, the Brooklyn dude.

After the captain had gone below, he walked up to Harry, whom he regarded with evident admiration.

“I say, you’re quite a hero. I was awfully frightened, don’t you know, when that big bully aimed at the sailor boy.”

“You looked a little nervous, Mr. Clinton,” said Harry, smiling.

“You were awfully brave, to knock the pistol out of his hand. I don’t see how you dared to do it.”

“I didn’t stop to think of danger. I saw that Jack’s life was in danger, and I did the only thing I could to save him.”

“I’m glad you’re not put in irons. It must be awful to be in irons.”

“I don’t think I should like it, though I never had any experience. You’d have stood by me, wouldn’t you, Mr. Clinton?”

Clinton was evidently alarmed at the suggestion.

“Yes, of course,” he said, nervously; “that is, I would have gone down to see you on the sly. You wouldn’t expect me to fight the captain, don’t you know.”

Harry could hardly refrain from smiling at the idea of the spindle-shaped dude resisting the captain; but he kept a straight face as he answered:

“I look upon you as a brave man, Mr. Clinton. When I get into trouble, I shall be sure to call upon you.”

“Oh, certainly,” stammered Clinton. “But I say, Mr. Vane, I hope you’ll be prudent; I do, really. Captain Hill might shoot you, you know, as he tried to shoot the sailor boy just now.”

“If he does, Mr. Clinton, I shall expect you to interfere, You are not as strong as the captain, but a bold front will go a great way. If you threaten to—to horsewhip him, I think it might produce an effect upon him.”

“Really, my dear Mr. Vane,” said Clinton, turning pale, “I don’t think I could go as far as that.”

“I thought you were my friend, Mr. Clinton,” said Harry, reproachfully.

“So I am, but I think you are, too—too bloodthirsty, Mr. Vane. It is best to be prudent, don’t you know. There’s that Yankee, Mr. Stubbs; he would do a great deal better than I. He’s stronger, and older, and—you’d better speak to him, don’t you know.”

“A very good suggestion, Mr. Clinton,” said Harry.

“I am afraid I should fare badly,” thought our hero, “if I depended upon Clinton to stand by me. He isn’t of the stuff they make heroes of.”

Twenty-four hours passed before Captain Hill reappeared on deck. Meanwhile Harry had received congratulations from all the passengers on his display of pluck, and from some of the sailors besides. In fact, if he had not been a sensible boy, he might have been in danger of being spoiled by praise. But he answered, very modestly, that he had only acted from impulse, actuated by a desire to save Jack, and had not had time to count the consequences.

“I’ll stand by you, my lad,” said Hirman Stubbs. “The captain may try to do you wrong, but he will have somebody else to reckon with—I won’t see you hurt.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stubbs,” said Harry, heartily. “I know the value of your help already. Mr. Clinton also is willing to stand by me, though he says he don’t want to get into a fight with the captain.”

“Clinton! That spindle-legged dude!” said Stubbs, exploding with laughter. “My! he couldn’t scare a fly.”

Harry laughed, too. He could not help doing so.