There was more than one man on our gun-deck who began to believe, now there was no question but we should have a scrimmage ashore, that it was risky for our captain to take any part in the quarrel, and the argument they put forth was a good one, as even Master Hackett was forced to admit. In the first place we were so few in numbers that not a single vessel in the fleet was fully manned, and there would be no opportunity to enlist others to make up a crew. Every man killed or disabled would weaken our force just so much when we met the British ships of war, and such chances as these we had no right to take. In the second place our jackies understood nothing about fighting on land, particularly in such a wild country as we saw before us. The natives might not be overly well armed; but we knew for a fact that they possessed weapons of some kind and could use them to good advantage. "How much show would an old shellback who must depend upon a cutlass or a boarding pike, stand against these black fellows in a bit of woods so thick that you couldn't swing a cat?" one of the men asked, and Master Hackett replied sharply:-- "We've muskets enough to arm all hands, an' I allow that you've got sense enough to pull the trigger after the piece has been loaded, eh?" "I can do that much all right, matey; but what about the rest of it. While I'm mixed up with a lot of bushes tryin' to reload, how am I to keep the villains from comin' to close quarters where I'm outclassed?" "If you're goin' to pick up sich imaginin's as that, I reckon you wouldn't be fit timber for a shore fight; but I'd hate to say I was a Yankee, an' didn't dare to stand up in front of these heathen." "I'm willin' enough to stand up pervidin' I can find out what it all amounts to. We're mixin' in this 'ere row without gettin' any benefit from it." "We shall have the use of the bay while we're refittin', an' won't stand in danger of bein' knocked over by a dirty heathen and a club." "There's plenty of islands about here with bays as big as we need, an' no bloomin' war on hand," the old barnacle said in a surly tone, whereupon Master Hackett jumped upon him, so to speak:-- "How do you know that? Have you been knockin' 'round these seas so many years that you can call to mind every hole and corner? If three white men can live here a matter of ten months, as we know has been the case, why isn't it the choice island of the whole group for us?" "I ain't kickin' about the island; it's the war that sticks in my crop." "Let it stick there then," Master Hackett growled. "Send word aft that you've got a rush of light-colored blood to the head, an' ain't fit to be trusted ashore. I reckon the captain will let you off without makin' much of a fuss."