ball hit the mainmast, and down it bounced squarely upon Asa Carey's head, knocking the mate's cap over his eyes and sending him staggering backwards.
"Hi, hi! you young rascals!" roared the mate. "What do you mean by such conduct?"
"Excuse me," replied Tom, humbly. "I didn't mean to hit you. It was an accident."
"I think you did it on purpose, you young villain!"
"It was an accident, Mr. Carey—and I'll thank you not to call me a rascal and a villain," went on Tom rather warmly.
"I'll call you what I please!"
"No, you won't."
"Yes, I will. I am in command here, and I won't have you throwing baseballs at me."
"I just told you it was an accident. If the yacht hadn't rolled just as I threw the ball it would not have hit you."
"Bah! I know boys, and you especially. You love to play tricks on everybody. But you can't play tricks on me." And as the mate spoke he stopped, picked up the rolling ball, and put it in his pocket.
"Are you going to keep that ball?" demanded Sam.
"I am."
