One of them, especially (a tall, dark, big-whiskered man named Job), had
more than once said to his comrades that he would be the death of the
skipper yet. Bunks usually shook his head when he heard these threats,
and said, "It wouldn't pay, unless he wanted to dance a hornpipe on
nothing," which was a delicate reference to being hung.

When the two men saw Bunks come forward with blood streaming from his
mouth, they looked at each other and swore a tremendous oath.

"Will ye lend a hand, Jim?" sputtered Job between his clenched teeth.

Jim nodded.

"No, no," cried Bunks, interposing, but the two men dashed him aside and
rushed aft.

Their purpose, whatever it might have been, was arrested for a moment by
Bunks suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs--

"Light on the starboard bow!"

"That's a lie," said Jager, savagely; "use yer eyes, you land-lubber."

"We're running straight on the North Foreland," cried Job, who, with his
companion, suddenly stopped and gazed round them out ahead in alarm.

"The North Foreland, you fool," cried the skipper roughly, "who ever saw
the North Foreland light on the starboard bow, with the ship's head due
north?"

"I don't believe 'er head _is_ due north," said Job, stepping up to the
binnacle, just as Tommy Bogey, aroused by the sudden lurch of the vessel
and the angry voices, came on deck.

"Out o' the way," cried Jager roughly, hitting Job such a blow on the
head that he sent him reeling against the lee bulwarks.

The man, on recovering himself, uttered a fierce yell, and rushing on
the skipper, seized him by the throat with his left hand, and drove his
right fist into his face with all his force.

Jager, although a powerful man, and, when sober, more than a match for
his antagonist, was overborne and driven with great violence against the
binnacle, which, being of inferior quality and ill secured, like
everything else in the miserable vessel, gave way under his weight, and
the compass was dashed to pieces on the deck.

Jim ran to assist his comrade, and Bunks attempted to interfere.
Fortunately, Tommy Bogey's presence of mind did not forsake him. He
seized the tiller while the men were fighting furiously, and steered
away from the light, feeling sure that, whatever it might be, the wisest
thing to be done was to steer clear of it.

He had not got the schooner quite before the wind when a squall struck
her, and laid her almost on her beam-ends. The lurch of the v