wot's the plain truth, d'ye see, I'm not sorry to ha' done with your
schooner; for, although she is as tight a little craft as any man could
wish for to go to sea in, I can't say much for the crew,--saving your
presence, Dick," he added, glancing over his shoulder at the
surly-looking man who pulled the bow oar. "Of all the rascally set I
ever clapped eyes on, they seems to me the worst. If I didn't know you
for a sandal-wood trader, I do believe I'd take ye for a pirate."

"Don't speak ill of your messmates behind their backs, Jo," said the
captain, with a slight frown. "No good and true man ever does that."

"No more I do," replied John Bumpus, while a deep red color suffused
his bronzed countenance. "No more I do, leastwise if they wos here I'd
say it to their faces; for they're a set of as ill-tongued villains as I
ever had the misfortune to--"

"Silence!" exclaimed the captain, suddenly, in a voice of thunder.

Few men would have ventured to disobey the command given by such a man,
but John Bumpus was one of those few. He did indeed remain silent for
two seconds, but it was the silence of astonishment.

"Capting," said he, seriously, "I don't mean no offense, but I'd have
you to know that I engaged to work for you, not to hold my tongue at
your bidding, d'ye see? There ain't the man living as'll make Jo Bumpus
shut up w'en he's got a mind to--"

The captain put an abrupt end to the remarks of his refractory seaman by
starting up suddenly in fierce anger and seizing the tiller, apparently
with the intent to fell him. He checked himself, however, as suddenly,