"Hold on there, men!" he exclaimed. "Jack Spaniard, you and Friday come back here an' set down. Exury, kick that dog and make him hush up. Will Atkins, put down that ar oar an' behave yourself, like a man had oughter do!"
"Atkins, I say, you'd better drop that ar oar an' come here an' set down," repeated the governor. "If I take a hand in this muss, I'll make you open your eyes!"
The culprit evidently feared the chief more than all the rest of the band, for, without further parley, he put the oar back in its place and resumed his seat.
"Now, Will Atkins," continued the governor, "don't you never say agin what you said a minute ago--that there never was no such feller as Robinson Crusoe--'cause I know there was. He writ this yere book himself; a blind man could see that, an' I aint agoin' to have no feller say he didn't. You've got the best name of any of us! Will Atkins made them fellers in Robinson's island a heap of trouble, an' you're tryin' to do the same thing by us. Now, I'm different from what they were, an' I won't stand much nonsense. You can just bear that in mind. As fur that ar ole watch of your'n, if Crusoe had had one, I wouldn't say a word. But the book don't say nothin' about it, an' so I know he didn't have none. We aint agoin' to take nothin' with us that he didn't have, so I say again, that the watch sha'n't go. Shall it, fellers?"
Jack Spaniard, Friday, and Xury, being highly enraged at the traitor, sustained the chief in his decision, and Atkins was compelled to swallow his disappointment as best he could. Strange as it may appear, however, this incident did not disturb the harmony of the meeting. Atkins was at first held in check by fear of the governor; but when a pocketful of fish-hooks and lines which he had offered to increase the general stock was accepted, it had the effect of restoring him to his usual spirits.
After this business had been transacted, the governor entered upon a discussion of the subject which was just then occupying the most of his thoughts. He began by repeating what he had told his companions a hundred times before--that Bobby Jennings was the meanest fellow he had seen for many a day, too mean to be permitted to live longer in Fishertown; that he had repeatedly refused to give him one of the twenty-dollar gold pieces for his skiff, and had then gone off and paid one, and perhaps both, of them for the Go Ahead No. 2; and, finally, that he had shown a determination to do as he pleased in the harbor, and that was something they could not stand.