"Not quite, Thomas. Only enough to quiet the devil in him awhile. You behold him tamed for a little, no more.
"Ay, sir, but looked like as you'd kicked his figure'ead clean adrift, Cap'n."
"How does your arm feel now, Thomas?"
"Sweetly soothsome, sir—though 'twould be better yet, if ye'd be so kind, for a tot o' rum, sir."
"At proper season, Thomas. Now, off with ye!"
"Ay ay, sir, and thankee kindly, I'm sure. My sarvice to ee, Cap'n!" So saying, Tom Ash made a leg and rolled himself away. Then Adam turned to see little Smidge kneeling beside Tregenza.
"Oh, sir," said he, looking up, anxious-eyed, "will I give him a tot o' rum or sowse him wi' water?"
"Neither, shipmate."
"But he ... he don't seem like ... coming to, sir."
"He will, Smidge, give him time. Now leave me and bid Jimbo see no one disturb me till I ring."
"What, must I go, sir, and leave you alone ... along o' yon murderous, great man?"
"He isn't murderous now, Smidge."
"But ... when he comes to—if he ever do, how then, sir, if you please?"
"I'll manage him, shipmate, somehow."
"Will I leave ye my cutlash, sir?"
"Thankee no, messmate, clap it on, and take his knife with you also." Very unwillingly Smidge obeyed while Adam, having dressed the unconscious man's wounds and ordered and closed the medicine chest, sat down and took up his quill.
Thus when at last Tregenza opened his eyes it was to see Adam seated at the table, writing busily and yet who now spoke without looking up:
"Your wounds are all dressed and doing very well, Giles. You are indeed a fine-made, powerful fellow but, which I think is better, I perceive you are one of some education. What were you in England?"
And crouched on the floor, staring on his questioner in strange, dazed manner, Tregenza answered, like one in a dream and speaking against his wilclass="underline"
"A law student ... in my father's office ... in Helston."
"You preferred the sea, then?"
"Being only a cursed, fool boy ... yes, a seaman ... then carpenter's mate."
"Good!"
"How? How good? It's brought me nought but evil ... how good?"
"Because," answered Adam, laying down his pen at last and turning to look at Tregenza, "I need a ship's carpenter, and I'll try you."
"Eh? Me? You'll try ... me ... after what——"
"Report to Ned Bowser, the master. Say I sent you."
Giles Tregenza got to his feet, with an effort, felt his chin with a painful solicitude, scowled at the floor, the gilded beams overhead and finally, at Adam.
"Sir," he began, and choking on the word, stood dumb again.
"Well?" demanded Adam, turning again to look on this great fellow who fumbled with his hands and shifted so awkwardly; thus reading the trouble in his blue eyes, Adam did that which was so rare with him, smiled.
"Sir," said Giles again, "this is the second time I would have killed you ... and joyed in it! Though why, only the Lord knoweth. Belike 'twas because I saw ye on the galleasse for such little man and small and no account at the oar, and always so meek seeming, never daring to cry out 'gainst cruel injustice or rage 'gainst our oppressors.... Such puny man and now, on a sudden, setting yourself up for master of us all."
"Hast said it, Giles!" quoth Adam, rising. "Master of ye all am I, and will be henceforth, whiles I live! Captain of this ship until a better man shall displace and kill me, for indeed kill me he must, Giles, and make very sure I am dead."
"The which, sir," said Giles, shaking his red head, "there's no man aboard may ever do, for master indeed you are. I began to think so yesterday when we were at the steel together, to-day I know it. Captain are you henceforth and I your man and ... proud to own it."
Adam rose and began to pace slowly to and fro across the wide cabin and presently to speak his thoughts like one in self-communion:
"To know our own mind, to be faithful to our word and what we believe our duty ... to have faith in ourselves, our destiny and in God ... to bear these deep in our heart with a green memory of that small island so far across the seas ... to live ever worthy of our England ... all this, I think, is summed up in the word 'honour'. And 'tis this maketh an Englishman able to rule and shall lift little England into the very forefront of the nations ... someday ... mayhap ... As for myself, I was meek and uncomplaining aboard the galleasse because I do not cry out or rage 'gainst adversity, for that I believe pain and travail are sent to tempt and try us, and should make us but the wiser and stronger, and therefore so much the better men. Also I believe the Almighty is a God of Justice and Mercy shall make of our sufferings a crown of glory, hereafter.... So now, Giles Tregenza, I shall believe you honourable, as Englishman should be; 'tis for you to prove me wise or mere fool. Go now and report for duty."
Without a word, Tregenza crossed to the door, turned as if to speak, saluted instead and strode away. So, presently, Adam sat down again to his writing and had filled two close-written pages when, with thunderous knock, the door swung wide and in strode Sir Benjamin.
"S'death, Adam!" he exclaimed, flourishing the sheathed rapier he held. "Bloody mutiny's afoot!"
Adam rose and from beneath a pile of loose papers, drew the pistol they had concealed.
"Art sure, Ben?" he enquired, cocking the weapon.
"'Od's my life, that am I! So's George! George saw.... George heard! Ho, George, where a plague are ye?"
"Here!" answered Sir George, entering as he spoke.
"Ha, well now you'll bear witness, George, 'tis that cursed, red-headed, great rogue, Adam, that same arch-villain you fought at prayers——"
"Ah!" murmured Adam, and uncocked the pistol. "You'll mean Giles Tregenza."
"I don't know his infernal name, but 'tis that same ill-beseen, foul-advised hell-hound——"
"A very tall, red-haired, seemly fellow!" nodded Adam, and laid by the pistol.
"Eh? Seemly, says you? Man, I'm telling ye o' this same tall, great, ugly rascal, this scoundrelly, very lewd rogue provoked you lately to blooding him and very handsomely ye did it! Well, this ill-conditioned knave comes swaggering up to myself, George and Ned——"
"I should scarce call it swaggering," Sir George demurred, "striding would be the word, Ben."
"Smite me dumb, George! D'ye think I don't know swagger from stride? Up swaggers he, and 'pon the quarterdeck, mark ye, Adam, with some cock and bull tale of promotion, mate or coxon, and as I live, oozing damnable mutiny at every accursed pore!"
"Sweat, Ben! Should rather call it sweat," murmured Sir George, "the sun being so pestilent hot!"
"And I say 'twas mutiny, so plain and manifest that had I been armed I'd ha' been at the rogue! As 'tis, Adam, staying but to snatch sword, I'm here to demand he be instantly clapped i' the bilboes."
"Not so, my Benjamin,—yet awhile, at least," answered Adam, "he is too lately ship's carpenter."
"Eh—eh?" gasped Sir Benjamin, recoiling. "He ... ship's carpenter ... an officer ... this proven rascally, murderous——''
"Even so, our ship's carpenter, Ben."
"Well now, strike me deaf, blind and bleeding if I ever heard the like o' this! A villain to be cut and chopped one day and promoted officer the next! Ha, and when he brings his like rogues down 'pon us to slit our throats, how then?"
"Yourself shall have the hanging of him, Ben."
"But, if you must have carpenter, why ... why i' the foul fiend's name, choose this fellow?"
"Since you ask, well—I like his looks, the set of his chin, the cock of his eye."
Here Sir Benjamin, finding adequate retort quite beyond even his powers for the time,—snorted, bounced, and strode away.