"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 have seemed leisurely, Chris was able to detect in the step of his master a certain haste. He came up to the little group of men, glanced at the back of Zachary Heigh, who was moving away as if to some interrupted duty, and at Chris's white face and the reddening handkerchief which he held to his chin. Mr. Wicker looked slowly at all the faces and then raised his eyebrows as if in surprise. "Well, lads," he said, "what has happened here? You all look angry and somewhat a-frighted. What occurred, Ned?" he asked, addressing Ned Cilley, whose kind face was puckered with sympathy for Chris and who stood pulling at the stocking cap he held in his hands. But Chris spoke up before Ned could reply. "It was my fault, sir. I expect I got what I deserved, but it seemed to happen in spite of myself. I laughed at Osterbridge Hawsey's beauty patch--and at him--all of him, really. We all did. Claggett Chew got mad, and I guess I wouldn't blame him. It was a dreadful thing to do--to laugh at someone to their face--and he lashed out with his whip and gave _me_ a beauty patch!" In spite of the pain Chris managed a grin as he took the handkerchief from his chin to bare the deep, cruel cut. "But truly sir," he ended, "I never saw anything like Osterbridge Hawsey before. He's a dilly!" And before they knew it they had all, including even the habitually grave Mr. Wicker, burst into another shout of laughter. Mr. Wicker soon stopped, however, and reached back into the pocket in the flap of his coattails. When he drew out his hand it held a small glass box. With unhurried gestures Mr. Wicker's fine fingers took off the lid.