binnacle and the officers' corned-beef tubs, swinging in their frames.
From this upper deck two flights of steps led down to the main deck
below. At the top of one of these flights stood young Pearson, cool and
alert. Behind him half crouched the Japanese steward, evidently very
much frightened. At the foot of the steps were grouped three rough
looking men, foreigners and sailors without doubt, and partially
intoxicated. The three men were an ugly lot, and they were all yelling
and jabbering together in a foreign lingo. As the captain emerged
from the passage to the open deck, he heard Pearson reply in the same
language.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Pearson answered without turning his head.

"Drunken sailors," he explained. "Part of the crew here. They've been
uptown, got full, and come back to square a grudge they seem to have
against the steward. I'm telling them they'd better give up and go
ashore, if they know when they're well off."

The three fellows by the ladder's foot were consulting together. On the
wharf were half a dozen loungers, collected by the prospect of a row.

"If I can hold them off for a few minutes," went on Pearson, "we'll be
all right. The wharf watchman has gone for the police. Here! drop it!
What are you up to?"

One of the sailors had drawn a knife. The other two reached for their
belts behind, evidently intending to follow suit. From the loafers on
the wharf came shouts of encouragement.