his mind in no condition to respond readily to
new impressions. He was captain of the ship, and grossly affronted.
Johnson, noting his purple face, wisely reached for a topsail-brace
belaying-pin, and stepped toward him; for he now towered over Breen,
cursing with volcanic energy.

"Didn't I tell you to go forrard?" he roared, drawing back his powerful
fist.

Breen stood his ground; the officer raised his hand and half drew his
sword, while the blue-jackets sprang forward; but it was Johnson's
belaying-pin which stopped that mighty fist in mid-passage. It was an
iron club, eighteen inches long by an inch and a half diameter; and
Johnson, strong man though he was, used it two-handed. It struck the
brawny forearm just above the wrist with a crashing sound, and seemed
to sink in. Captain Bacon almost fell, but recovered his balance, and,
holding the broken bones together, staggered toward the booby-hatch for
support. He groaned in pain, but did not curse; for it requires a
modicum of self-respect for this, and Captain Bacon's self-respect was
completely shocked out of him.

But Mr. Knapp and Mr. Hansen still respected themselves, and were
coming.

"You keep back, there--you two," yelled Johnson, excitedly. "Stand by
here, mates. These buckoes 'll kill someone yet. Look out for their
brass knuckles and guns."

And the two officers halted. They had no desire to assert themselves
before nine scowling, armed men, an angry and aggressive mutineer with
a belaying-pin, and a rather confused, but wakening, young officer with
drawn sword. Johnson backed toward the latter.

"Don't you know me, Mr. Bronson," he said--"Tom Johnson, cocks'n o' the
gig on your practice-cruise? 'Member me, sir? This is Lieutenant
Breen--take my word, sir."

"Yes--yes--I understand," said the ensign, with a face redder than
Breen's had been. "I really beg your pardon, Mr. Breen. It was
inexcusable in me, I know--but--I had expected to see a different face,
and--and--we're three months out from Hong-Kong, you see----"

Breen smiled, and interrupted with a gesture.

"No time for explanations, Mr. Bronson," said he, kindly. "Did you
bring the clothes? Thoughtful of Johnson to ask for them, wasn't it? It
really would be embarrassing to join your ship in this rig. In the grip
and bundle? All right. Form your men across the deck, please, forward
of the cabin. Keep these brutes away from us while we change. Come,
Johnson."

Taking the hand-bag and