now ye,
Buckrow, and I'll have the life of ye if ye don't come up."

"Petrak was the one what killed the mate," said Buckrow. "It was Petrak
done for the Dutchman, sir. I ain't no murderer, sir, Mr. Harris, but a
sailorman what does his duty as he sees it, sir."

"Come on deck then and we'll see about that," said Harris, who seemed to
think that Buckrow's play of fear of him was genuine.

"Come down and get me. Ye don't dare come down, ye big bucko. I know the
likes of ye! Come down and get me, if ye dare."

"Is this mutiny? I'll have the lot of ye hanged! I don't stand for no
such business aboard me," cried Captain Riggs, and the trio below stifled
their laughter.

"Naow let me handle this, cap'n," we heard Harris say. "I'll go down and
break this myself. This ain't no time to argue 'bout mutinies; this
ain't."

"Give him a dirty insult, Bucky," whispered Thirkle. "Give it to him hard
or the old master will argue him out of coming down."

"Come down, ye swine! Come down ye low-born coward and take me if ye can.
That's what I say to ye. It's me, Buckrow, foremast hand that's talkin'
to the mate of the _Kut Sang_, who's a dog."

This brought a cry of rage from Harris, and we heard him enter the
scuttle, while Captain Riggs begged him not to go down.

"Stay up here, Mr. Harris, and let the murdering dogs stay there. We'll
fix 'em fast enough when day comes."

"Leggo me, cap'n! I say I'll break that spawn's neck! Let me down!"

"I can't let you risk your life this way, Mr. Harris. I can't, I say.
Where will I have officers if ye get hurt down there? Let 'em stop for
now."

"Leggo my arm!" shrieked Harris. "Cap'n, if ye don't leggo my arm I can't
say what I'll do. I never let no man talk to me like that!"

"But, Mr. Harris! Ye know what it means! Ye know I can't work the ship!
Ye know what's below and what they want! Mr. Harris! Mr. Harris!"

"Now, will ye let go?" demanded Harris, and then he crashed down the
wooden ladder. The forecastle was illumined by a flash, and Buckrow's
pistol boomed, and then a second flash on the other side of the
forecastle showed me the face of the Rev. Luther Meeker at the entrance
to the forecastle behind a pistol which had sent a second bullet at the
mate. And the Rev. Luther Meeker was the man who had been addressed as
Thirkle, and who seemed to be in command of the others.

Something rolled into the smoke-laden hole and sprawled on the planks
near me, and I could hear it