“Here’s Clinton’s trunk,” said Harry, bending over and recognizing the initials. “Here is the name, ‘M. C., Brooklyn.’ He will be overjoyed. Suppose we take it up between us.” No opposition being made by Mr. Holdfast, the boys took the trunk up between them, preceding the mate. They had just reached the summit of the bluff. “Put down that trunk!” said a stern voice. Looking up, the boys saw that the speaker was Captain Hill. The captain’s face was of dull, brick-red, and it was clear that he had already been drinking, early as it was. Naturally the boys, on hearing his voice, put down the trunk in their surprise, but they maintained their position, one on each side of it. Of the two, Jack was the more impressed, having been one of the crew, and subject to the captain’s authority on shipboard. Harry, as a passenger, felt more independent. Indeed, he was indignant, and ready to resist what he thought uncalled-for interference on the part of the captain. “This is Mr. Clinton’s trunk,” he said. “We are going to carry it to him.” “Do you dare to dispute my authority?” roared the captain, his red face becoming still redder. “I don’t see what you have to do with the trunk,” answered Harry, boldly. “This to me!” shrieked the captain, looking as if he were going to have a fit of apoplexy. “Do you know who I am?” “You were the captain of the Nantucket,” said Harry, quietly. The captain, notwithstanding his inebriated condition, did not fail to notice that Harry used the past tense. “I am still the captain of the Nantucket, as I mean to show you,” he retorted. “Then, sir, you are captain of a wreck that has gone to pieces.” Captain Hill upon this looked at the fragments of the unfortunate ship, and for the first time took in what had happened. “It doesn’t matter,” said he, after a brief pause, “I am in command here, and”--here he interpolated an oath--“I don’t allow any interference with my authority.” “You are not captain of Mr. Clinton’s trunk,” said Harry, in a spirited tone. “Jack, let us carry it along.” This was too much for the captain. With a look of fury on his face, he dashed toward Harry, and there is no doubt that our hero was in serious danger. He paled slightly, for he knew he was no match for the tall, sinewy captain, and was half regretting his independence when he felt himself drawn forcibly to one side, and in his place stood the mate, sternly eyeing the infuriated captain. “What do you want to do, Captain Hill?” he asked. “To crush that young viper!” shouted the captain, fiercely. “You shall not harm a hair of his head!” By this time the captain’s wrath had been diverted to the mate. He struck out with his right hand, intending to fell him to the ground, but, the mate swerving, he fell from the force of his abortive blow, and, being under the influence of his morning potations, could not immediately rise.