"Yes!" rose with a shout; but it was met by a menacing growl; and one man ran to the cabin, to return directly, half dragging, half leading Mazzard, who stared round wildly in a drink-stupefied manner, and faltered out, as if in answer to a question-- "No more, now! Who's altered her course?" There was a few moments' silence, during which the self-elected captain stared about him, and tried to comprehend what was going on, for he had just been roused suddenly from a rum-engendered sleep, and seemed like one in a dream. "What, isn't annybody going to spake?" cried Dinny; "thin I will. Who althered the ship's course! Why, I did. D'yer think I was going to stand by and see a messmate left in the lurch? Look here, my lads; I am not going to make a spache, but the captain's dead, and you've got to choose a new one." "Hurrah for Dinny Kelly; he's the man!" shouted one of the sailors. "If I didn't know ye can't help it, Sam Marlow, I'd say don't be a fool!" cried Dinny, scornfully. "Now, do I look like a captain! Bad luck to ye for an omadhaun. I'm a foighting man, and not a sailor at all; but ye've got to choose bechuckst two. Who is it to be--Black Mazzard there, or the old captain's brave little brother, Master Jack here, the best sailor, steersman, and bravest little chap that ever stepped on a plank? What do you say, Dick?" "Three cheers for Captain Jack!" cried Dick Dullock. "Nay, nay, Commodore Junk!" cried Dinny; "that name's a power, me boys. Now, then, who among ye says it isn't to be the captain's brother?" "I do!" cried Mazzard, who was growing sobered by the excitement of the scene. "I do. I'm captain of the schooner now; and if any man dares--" He dragged a pistol from his belt and cocked it. "Do you hear?" cried Mazzard again. "I'm captain now, and if any man dares to say I'm not, let him--Well, no, I won't give him time to say his prayers!" He stared round the ring of people, of which he now formed the centre, the pistol barrel pointing all round, as if its holder were in search of a mark. Just then Bart stepped forward, but Jack drew him aside. "No; let me speak," he said. "Oh, it's you, is it, my whipper-snapper!" cried Mazzard, scornfully. "There, we had enough of your little baby of a brother, and he's dead; so now, if you want to keep your skin whole, go back to your place, and if you behave yourself I'll make you my cabin-boy." Jack continued to advance, looking round at the crew, who, some fifty strong, had now hurried upon deck. "D'yer hear?" roared Mazzard, who seemed brutally sober now. "Go back, or--" He took aim at Jack with the pistol, and a murmur ran round the crew once more--a murmur which was turned to a shout of applause, for, gazing full at the drink inflamed countenance before him, Jack stepped right up to Mazzard and seized the pistol, which exploded in the air.