new that hand was closed about the butt of
a revolver; moreover, the tradesmen stood on either side of him,
prepared to back him up in whatever course he chose to take. They were
good men, those tradesmen, fighting men, and skilled in just such
battles as this promised to be. The port watch Sails, who stood
nearest to me, was armed with a heavy sheet pin, and he stood with his
face half turned towards the starboard side. Aye, they were canny
fighters--if it came to blows they would not be taken in the flank by
surprise.

Mister Fitzgibbon was swearing over the heads of the squareheads. He
threw his words into foc'sle. He was calling upon Holy Joe, the
parson, to come out of it blasted quick and be skinned alive, b'Gawd!
Broken bones were being promised to poor Holy Joe. That was why the
squareheads were showing fight--not to protect their own skins, but to
save the parson from the mate's wrath. For their little Nils was
dying, and Holy Joe was by his side, praying for his passing soul. As
I learned afterwards, when the mate sang out for his watch to man the
braces, all jumped to obey save the parson; he stayed with Nils. His
absence was noted immediately, for the mate was lynx-eyed; and
Fitzgibbon was all for invading the foc'sle and hauling out the truant
by the scruff of the neck. Aye, Mister Fitz was all for teaching a
lesson with boot and fist, for Holy Joe was a small man and a pacifist,
fair game for any bucko. But the squareheads would not have it so.
For Nils was dying, and Holy Joe was praying for his soul.

Suddenly Mister Fitzgibbon stopped cursing, and in a voice that meant
business, ordered the watch aft to the braces. The stiffs tumbled over
themselves in their eagerness to obey; but not a squarehead budged.
They still stood between the mate and his victim. So he drew the
revolver out of his pocket, and pointed it at Lindquist.

"Lay aft--or I'll splatter lead among you!" he said.

He meant it. He would have shot Lindquist, I am sure, for winging a
man, or worse, meant little to the mate of the _Golden Bough_, and the
squarehead bravely stood his ground. But the threat to shoot into the
men who were shielding him had the effect of drawing the parson out of
the foc'sle. He suddenly appeared in the lighted doorway.

"_Oho_, that brought you out of it--_hey_, you sniveling
this-and-that!" hailed Fitzgibbon. He lifted his aim from Lindquist,
and brought the weapon to bear upon Holy Joe.