It was no moment then to resent an insult, though this scoundrel seaman had been in Mr. Bates’s watch since the beginning of the voyage, and, with the rest of the sailors, had always been well used by him. Tom stepped up to the fellow and exclaimed in a tone of severity that made the man shrink: ‘I suppose that you know I am the commander of this ship now?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘And I suppose you know that you are an infernal mutineer?’ The man stared at him in a hang-dog way; he was the fellow who had spoken on the forecastle that morning about the roasting job which lay before them. ‘My command,’ continued Tom, hissing his speech into the sailor’s face, ‘gives me unlimited power, and if I insist upon your being hanged, up you go! Mr. Bates is second in command, and he is your chief mate still. Laugh again if you dare!’ He lingered to stare at the man, who shuffled, spat, looked uneasily around him, but made no reply. ‘Bear a hand with that awning, then,’ shouted my sweetheart to the two seamen. ‘Larking, Jephson, Simmonds,’ he cried, addressing some of a knot of convicts who stood looking at the sailors, ‘help those two loafers, will ye? Show ’em what to do, and how it may be done quickly. We’ve been having our training, boys,’ he added, with a great violent laugh, ‘whilst those chaps have been a-bed sucking their pipes.’ Three of the convicts sprang to his orders, as sailors would to the command of an officer. I caught Mr. Bates staring at Tom with amazement and admiration. Just then Barney Abram, dressed in Captain Sutherland’s clothes, the brass button on either side the naval peak of his cap glittering in the sun, came out of a group of eight or ten of the felons, who had been earnestly and soberly talking abreast of the foremost quarter-boat, and walked up to us. ‘Dow, Butler,’ he said, ‘we wa’t your advice. The idea was to se’d the fellows below adrift. But can we spare the boats?’ The others of the select crew he had been talking to followed him and came about us. The crowd was quickly swelled; before Tom could fairly answer, the whole of the convicts on the poop were swarming aft to the wheel, near which we stood, to hear what was said. Tom, standing erect, folded his arms upon his convict shirt and, gazing fixedly at the prize-fighter, said: ‘I’ll not counsel you. I accept no responsibility where life is concerned. That was understood.’ ‘You cad give us ad idea?’ Tom shook his head. ‘You have put this ship into my hands and I’ll carry her where you will,’ said he. ‘I’ve got no ideas outside that.’ I heard some murmurs as of grumbling, and some of the ugly faces looked savage.