coarse voice roared down the forward companionway to me to come on deck.
"Why don't ye come on deck like a man, and order yer men forid?" was the
salute that I got, and was the first that I heard with my own ears, and
it was enough. To tell the whole story in a word, I knew that I had to
face a mutiny.

I could do no less than say: "Go forward there!"

"Yer there, are ye?" said the spokesman, as with an oath, he bounded
toward me, cursing as he came.

Again I ordered him forward, saying, "I am armed,--if you come here I
will shoot!" But I forbore to do so instantly, thinking to club him to
the deck instead, for my carbine was a heavy one. I dealt him a blow as
he came near, sufficient I thought, to fell an ox; but it had,
apparently, no effect, and instantly he was inside of my guard. Then
grasping me by the throat, he tried to force me over the taffrail, and
cried, exultingly, as he felt me give way under his brute strength,
"Now, you damn fool, shoot!" at the same time drawing his knife to
strike.

I could not speak, or even breathe, but my carbine spoke for me, and the
ruffian fell with the knife in his hand which had been raised against
me! Resolution had proved more than a match for brute force, for I then
knew that not only my own life but also the lives of others depended on
me at this moment. Nothing daunted, the rest came on, like hungry
wolves. Again I cried, "Go forward!" But thinking, maybe, that my rifle
was a single shooter, or that I could not load it so quickly, the order
was disregarded.