The man who had been bowled over by a belaying-pin recovered consciousness after the firing ceased, and, with a very disagreeable sensation in his head, sat on the main hatch, probably wondering what was to become of him.
“Are you going to keep that thing?” the mate asked of Captain Mansfield, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the disconsolate-looking mutineer.
“Let him swim ashore when there’s a chance of our crawling away from this key.”
“If a breeze should spring up now those fellows on the beach would amuse themselves by making targets of us while we were raising the anchor and making sail.”
“I have thought of that; but do not see how it is to be avoided.”
“Make this fellow do such work as he can, with our assistance, while we remain under cover. Give me the word and I’ll guarantee to have the little craft ready for the first cat’s-paw which comes over the sea, and without exposing myself.”
“Act as you please, Mr. Jenkins. It is no more than fair that he should do something to repay for the trouble and loss which his crowd have cost us.”
The mate could have asked for no more congenial task, and Andy was in an ecstacy of delight as the mutineer was forced to play the part of a barricade for the others.
At first the man appeared disposed to rebel against doing the work demanded of him; but Mr. Jenkins said, sternly, brandishing a belaying-pin to give greater emphasis to his words:
“You ought to have a pretty good idea by this time that we shouldn’t feel very bad to be obliged to break your head, and that’s exactly what will happen if you don’t step lively. It may be well to tell those scoundrels on the beach who it is doing this work, otherwise they might put a bullet into your hide.”
The fellow began to realize that his captors were not to be trifled with, and very meekly went to the rail, where he shouted:
“Hi! Mike! This crowd have got the drop on me, an’ I’m bound to do as they say; so don’t shoot, will yer?”
“Why not swim ashore? They can’t do anything, if you only show a little nerve, ’cause we’ve got all the shootin’ irons.”
“My leg’s about the same as broken, ’an I couldn’t swim a stroke.”
Mike was silent for a few seconds, and then he asked:
“Is the captain countin’ on leaving us here?”