oup of
seamen who doubled up, convulsed, fell on one another's shoulders as
they wiped their eyes, and slapped their hard thighs with their
roughened hands.

The pair that so amused the rest, Claggett Chew and his fine friend, had
stopped some ten feet away at the first sound of mirth. Then into
Claggett Chew's gray-white face came astonishment, for he was used to
creating many impressions--fear, hatred, or cringing obsequiousness--but
never before had he or any of his friends been laughed at. Furthermore,
he, the dreaded Claggett Chew, and his gaudy friend Osterbridge Hawsey,
were held as being of so little account that a boy dared to laugh at
them!

[Illustration]

After a surge of deep ugly red to his head, Claggett Chew's face
became whiter than before, and his eyes were murderous.

"Oh, Claggett, they seem to be laughing at me!" Osterbridge Hawsey
whined in a high-pitched voice.

Unfortunately, at this moment Chris, forgetting caution in the grip of
his laughter, held on to Amos shouting feebly: "He's got a patch on
his cheek! What do you know--a beauty patch!"

The derision in his voice, in spite of his laughter, was unmistakable,
but before he could so much as draw another breath, he heard Claggett
Chew's voice for the first time.

"So--you ill-found ugly twirp! You idiot whippersnapper! Let me give
you one to match!"

And quicker than the eye could follow, the whip flicked out, and with
a cutting sting, lashed Chris's cheek. The cut, from the metal wire,
was deep, almost to Chris's jawbone; but he did not feel the hurt as
much as he realized--his laughter gone--that Claggett Chew was now his
deadly enemy.

"Next time," came Claggett Chew's sneering voice, "I shall take an
_eye_ from you, my laughing boy, and see if that amuses _us_ as well!"

And turning on his heel, followed by the sauntering, giggling fop, the
pair picked their way along the wharf and disappeared.

It was only then, looking around at the sobered, silent sailors, Chris
remembered that Zachary Heigh was the only one who had not laughed.

CHAPTER 14

Barely were Claggett Chew and Osterbridge Hawsey out of sight, when
Chris simultaneously became aware of two things. One was the deep
throbbing ache of the whip cut, so painful it made him feel sick and
faint, and the second was the black figure of Mr. Wicker. Mr. Wicker
was threading his way in and out of the crowds and litter of the
wharves, and although to most he might h