He and his officers armed themselves and went on deck, and faced the three hundred angry men, who required to know why the Dutchman was not good prize. Walker's reply was admirable: "This is not the way to ask me. I am willing that the meanest man in the ship shall be satisfied of my conduct, but I will give that satisfaction in my own way, and not be called to account by you. I am sorry, indeed, that it should ever be said of me that I was obliged to take up arms against my own people, in defence of conduct which can be so easily supported by words only. It will be a pain to me to reflect upon it, as long as I live, and a blot on the character I imagined I had gained. I am very willing to explain to you what rights we have over Dutch vessels, but I shall choose my own time for doing it; and every man who does not instantly separate to his duty, when I give the word, I shall treat him as an associate in a mutiny." Two of the men called out that it would be too late to explain when the chase was out of sight. "Bring those men aft, and put them in irons," said Walker; and he was obeyed. Next morning he gave them a lecture on prize law and discipline, to which they listened in all submission. CHAPTER XII GEORGE WALKER--_continued_ It was towards the end of this year--1745--after a visit to Madeira--where some of the crew got into trouble over a very foolish practical joke, putting a handful of soot in the holy-water fount at a church door--and a short cruise off the Azores, that Walker and his men were called upon to face death in a new form: not amidst the interchange of cannon-shot, the rattle of musketry, the clash of steel, but the gradual encroachment of the sea in a desperately leaky ship, threatening day by day to engulf them. It was upon this occasion that George Walker displayed the noblest qualities, and by his fortitude, tact, and unwearying exertions kept the ship afloat and saved the lives of all on board.