"You agreed to advance me four pounds on those things of mine...."
"Ow-w!" Illumination overspread the hollow-jowled countenance. Stryker smiled cheerfully. "Garn with you!" he chuckled. "You will 'ave yer little joke, won't you now? I declare I never see a loony with such affecsh'nit, pl'yful wyes!"
Kirkwood's eyes narrowed. "Stryker," he said steadily, "give me the four pounds and let's have no more nonsense; or else hand over my things at once."
"Daffy," Stryker told vacancy, with conviction. "Lor' luv me if I sees 'ow he ever 'ad sense enough to escype. W'y, yer majesty!" and he bowed, ironic. "I '_ave_ given you yer quid."
"Just about as much as I gave you that pearl pin," retorted Kirkwood hotly. "What the devil do you mean--"
"W'y, yer ludship, four pounds jus pyes yer passyge; I thought you understood."
"My passage! But I can come across by steamer for thirty shillings, first-class--"
"Aw, but them steamers! Tricky, they is, and unsyfe ... No, yer gryce, the W. Stryker Packet Line Lim'ted, London to Antwerp, charges four pounds per passyge and no reduction for return fare."
Stunned by his effrontery, Kirkwood stared in silence.
"Any complynts," continued the captain, looking over Kirkwood's head, "must be lyde afore the Board of Directors in writin' not more'n thirty dyes arfter--"
"You damned scoundrel!" interpolated Kirkwood thoughtfully.
Stryker's mouth closed with a snap; his features froze in a cast of wrath; cold rage glinted in his small blue eyes. "W'y," he bellowed, "you bloomin' loonatic, d'ye think you can sye that to Bill Stryker on 'is own wessel!"
He hesitated a moment, then launched a heavy fist at Kirkwood's face. Unsurprised, the young man side-stepped, caught the hard, bony wrist as the captain lurched by, following his wasted blow, and with a dexterous twist laid him flat on his back, with a sounding thump upon the deck. And as the infuriated scamp rose--which he did with a bound that placed him on his feet and in defensive posture; as though the deck had been a spring-board--Kirkwood leaped back, seized a capstan-bar, and faced him with a challenge.
"Stand clear, Stryker!" he warned the man tensely, himself livid with rage. "If you move a step closer I swear I'll knock the head off your shoulders! Not another inch, you contemptible whelp, or I'll brain you!... That's better," he continued as the captain, caving, dropped his fists and moved uneasily back. "Now give that boatman money for taking me ashore. Yes, I'm going--and if we ever meet again, take the other side of the way, Stryker!"
