“Hold this fellow, Rimmer,” said Shakings, handing Clinch over to him. “I never whacked a baronet yet; but now is my chance!” Speers had warded off the blow of Sir Philip, and put his left eye in mourning, when the big boatswain seized the baronet by the collar, and tipped him over upon the deck. The sprig struggled with all his might; and the boatswain kept flopping him over and over on the planks, as one deals with an unruly fish he has pulled out of the water. In a few moments the baronet had had enough of this harsh treatment, and he refrained from further struggles. “Shall I lock him up in a state-room, Mr. Speers?” asked Shakings, as he held his prisoner at arm’s length. “Lock me up in a state-room!” exclaimed Sir Philip, gasping for breath, after his violent struggle. “I am a British subject!” “But British subjects must behave themselves on board of this vessel, as well as others,” replied Shakings, laughing at the bluster of the baronet. “Hallo! what’s all this about?” called the Prince, coming out of the cabin, where he had been disturbed by the noise of the struggle. Tom Speers pointed to Clinch, in his Portuguese dress, and explained the cause of the trouble. “You haven’t behaved yourself as a barinet should,” said the Prince. “If you want to interfere with the discipline of this vessel, you won’t feel at home here.--What do you wish to do with him, Mr. Speers?” “I don’t wish to do any thing with him; and I haven’t objected to his getting into the boat,” replied Speers. “He pitched into me because I would not let Clinch leave the vessel; and I have simply defended myself, though it has cost him a black eye and a bloody nose. Put him into his boat, Mr. Shakings.” The baronet wiped his bleeding member; and, while he was doing so, Shakings hoisted him upon the rail, and gave him a smart shove down the steps. Sir Philip saw that he was making nothing by prolonging the conflict; and now, if not before, he realized that he was fighting for one whom he desired to get rid of. He had done all he could to gratify his cousin’s sense of honor, and he went down into the boat. The boatman shoved off, and pulled for the shore. “Where is Mr. Gregory?” asked Speers, when the boat had gone; for he thought it a little strange that the other mutineer was not in the scrape. Search for Gregory was made; and of course nothing was found of him, for at this time he was galloping away from Funchal. But in the smoking-room, the Portuguese porter was found, dressed up in Clinch’s uniform. Shakings could not help laughing at the figure the swarthy fellow cut in his blue frock, or at the appearance of Clinch in the garments of the Portuguese. Speers ordered them to exchange garments; and directed the boatswain to lock the officer into his state-room till the captain returned.