the nigger,” said he. “That’s quite enough, Mr. Cole, for I ain’t above an oar myself; but, by God, I’m skipper o’ this here ship, and I’ll skip her as long as I remain aboard!”
I saw his hand go to his belt; I saw the pistols stuck there for mutineers. I looked at Santos. He answered me with his neutral shrug, and, by my soul, he struck a match and lit a cigarette in that hour of life and death! Then last I looked at Ready; and he leant invertebrate over the rail, gasping pitiably from his exertions
incredible tradition. In the afternoon I had seen his lean knees totter under the captain’s fire. Now, at midnight - the exact time by my watch - it was as if his shrunken limbs had expanded in his clothes; he seemed hardly to know his own flushed face, as he caught sight of it in my mirror.
“By Jove!”