“Stan' nothin',” sneered Billy. “Swell chanct I'd have wit him an' Squint Eye holdin' court over me. Not on yer life, Bony. I'm here, an' here I stays till I croaks, but yeh better believe me, I'm goin' to croak a few before I goes, so if any of you ginks are me frien's yeh better keep outen here so's yeh won't get hurted. An' anudder ting I'm goin' to do afore I cashes in--I'm goin' to put a few of dem ginks in de cabin wise to where dey stands wit one anudder. If I don't start something before I goes out me name's not Billy Byrne.” At this juncture Skipper Simms appeared with the three weapons he had gone to his cabin to fetch. He handed one to Bony Sawyer, another to Red Sanders and a third to a man by the name of Wison. “Now, my men,” said Skipper Simms, “we will go below and bring Byrne up. Bring him alive if you can--but bring him.” No one made a move to enter the forecastle. “Go on now, move quickly,” commanded Skipper Simms sharply. “Thought he said 'we',” remarked one of the sailors. Skipper Simms, livid with rage, turned to search out the offender from the several men behind him. “Who was that?” he roared. “Show me the blitherin' swab. Jes' show him to me, I tell you, an I'll learn him. Now you,” he yelled at the top of his voice, turning again to the men he had ordered into the forecastle after Billy Byrne, “you cowardly landlubbers you, get below there quick afore I kick you below.” Still no one moved to obey him. From white he went to red, and then back to white again. He fairly frothed at the mouth as he jumped up and down, cursing the men, and threatening. But all to no avail. They would not go. “Why, Skipper,” spoke up Bony Sawyer, “it's sure death for any man as goes below there. It's easier, an' safer, to starve him out.” “Starve nothin',” shrieked Skipper Simms. “Do you reckon I'm a-goin' to sit quiet here for a week an' let any blanked wharf rat own that there fo'c's'le just because I got a lot o' white-livered cowards aboard? No sir! You're a-goin' down after that would-be bad man an' fetch him up dead or alive,” and with that he started menacingly toward the three who stood near the hatch, holding their firearms safely out of range of Billy Byrne below. What would have happened had Skipper Simms completed the threatening maneuver he had undertaken can never be known, for at this moment Theriere pushed his way through the circle of men who were interested spectators of the impending tragedy. “What's up, sir?” he asked of Simms. “Anything that I can help you with?” “Oh!” exclaimed the skipper; “so you ain't dead after all, eh? Well that don't change the looks of things a mite. We gotta get that man outa there an' these flea-bitten imitations of men ain't got the guts to go in after him.” “He's got your gun, sir,” spoke up Wison, “an' Gawd knows he be the one as'ud on'y be too glad for the chanct to use it.”