you have committed a prison offense," I rejoined. "And you shall suffer dearly for it."
At this Captain Marcale's face grew as dark as a thunder cloud.
"Have a care!" he hissed. "I will not be insulted before my own men. I will give you your choice, to do your duty as sailors, or to be put back into the hold, on bread and water."
"I won't work as a sailor," came from Oliver promptly.
"Neither will I," came from myself.
"You had better consider the matter carefully. The hold is no nice place, as you know, and the stomach craves something better than ship's bread and stale water."
"You are a brute, and if I had a pistol I would shoot you down!" burst out Oliver, beside himself with anger. "But, mark me, some day we will get square with you."
A number of sailors had gathered around. Now Captain Marcale made a sign to several of them, and they rushed upon us and bore us to the deck. Our struggles were of no avail, and we were quickly bound, hands and feet. Then we were thrown into the hold again, and the hatch was once more readjusted.
If we had felt bad before, we now felt ten times worse. We saw that we could expect no mercy from Captain Marcale. Evidently he had
