For an instant the scene was ludicrous; but only for an instant.
With a volley of awful oaths, his face suffused with the
scarlet of mortification and rage, the captain regained his
feet, and with a terrific blow felled the sailor to the deck.
The man was small and rather old, so that the brutality of
the act was thus accentuated. The other seaman, however,
was neither old nor small--a huge bear of a man, with fierce
black mustachios, and a great bull neck set between massive
shoulders.
As he saw his mate go down he crouched, and, with a low
snarl, sprang upon the captain crushing him to his knees with
a single mighty blow.
From scarlet the officer's face went white, for this was mutiny;
and mutiny he had met and subdued before in his brutal
career. Without waiting to rise he whipped a revolver from
his pocket, firing point blank at the great mountain of muscle
towering before him; but, quick as he was, John Clayton was
almost as quick, so that the bullet which was intended for the
sailor's heart lodged in the sailor's leg instead, for Lord
Greystoke had struck down the captain's arm as he had seen
the weapon flash in the sun.
Words passed between Clayton and the captain, the former
making it plain that he was disgusted with the brutality
displayed toward the crew, nor would he countenance anything
further of the kind while he and Lady Greystoke remained
passengers.
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