“By this time, sir, the lads was all come up from the forecastle. We wasn’t much hands at fightin’, in them days, on the Labrador craft, bein’ all friends t’gether; an’ a little turn up on deck sort o’ scared the crew. Made un shy, too; they hanged about, backin’ an’ shufflin’, like kids in a parlor, fair itchin’ along o’ awkwardness, grinnin’ a deal wider’n was called for, but sayin’ nothin’ for fear o’ drawin’ more attention ’n they could well dodge. Skipper Alex he laughed; then I cackled a bit—an’ then off went the crew in a big he-haw. I seed Archibald Shott turn white an’ twitch-lipped, an’ I minds me now, sir, that he fidgeted somewhat about his hip; but bein’ all friends aboard, sir, shipped from near-by harbors, why, it jus’ didn’t jump into my mind that he was up t’ anything more deadly than givin’ a hitch to his trousers. How should it? We wasn’t _used_ t’ brawls aboard the _Billy Boy_. But whatever, Archibald Shott crep’ for’ard a bit, till he was close ’longside, an’ then bended down t’ do up the lashin’ of his shoe: which he kep’ at, sir, fumblin’ like a baby, till Jim looked off t’ the clouds risin’ over the Black Bight cliffs an’ ’lowed ’twould snow like wool afore the hour was over. Then, ‘Will she?’ says Arch; an’ with that he drawed his splittin’-knife an’ leaped like a lynx on Slow Jim Tool. I seed the knife in the air, sir—seed un come down point foremost on Jim’s big chest—an’ heared a frosty tinkle when the broken blade struck the deck. It didn’t seem natural, sir; not on the deck o’ the _Billy Boy_, where we was all friends aboard, raised in near-by harbors. “Anyhow, Slow Jim squealed like a pig an’ clapped a hand to his heart; an’ Arch jumped back t’ the rail, where he stood with muscles drawed an’ arms open for a grapple, fair drillin’ holes in Jim with his little green eyes. “‘Ouch!’ says Jim; ‘that wasn’t _fair_, Arch!’ “Arch’s lips jus’ lifted away from his teeth in a ghastly sort o’ grin. “‘Eh?’ says Jim. ‘What you want t’ do a dirty trick like that for?’