"They don't like the way the men keep going overboard," he continued,
his voice rising to a tone of uncontrolled passion. "It is
positively absurd, sir, and if you will allow me to say so, the men
are far from pleased."

"Tompkins," I said sternly, "you must understand that my position
will not allow me to listen to mutinous language of this sort."

I returned to the Captain. "I think the men mean mutiny," I said.

"Good," said Captain Bilge, rubbing his hands, "that will get rid of
a lot of them, and of course," he added musingly, looking out of the
broad old-fashioned port-hole at the stern of the cabin, at the
heaving waves of the South Atlantic, "I am expecting pirates at any
time, and that will take out quite a few of them. However"--and here
he pressed the bell for a cabin-boy--"kindly ask Mr. Tompkins to step
this way."

"Tompkins," said the Captain as the bosun's mate entered, "be good
enough to stand on the locker and stick your head through the stern
port-hole, and tell me what you think of the weather."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the tar with a simplicity which caused us
to exchange a quiet smile.

Tompkins stood on the locker and put his head and shoulders out of
the port.

Taking a leg each we pushed him through. We heard him plump into
the sea.