"What d'ye say to it, Bill Brennen?" he asked.
Bill Brennen shuffled his big feet uneasily, and eyed the pistols askance.
"Thank ye kindly, skipper. Ye speaks the truth," said he.
"Ye bes skipper here, sure--aye, and more nor skipper. But for ye we'd all be starved to death wid hunger an' cold," said Nick.
"An' what says the rest o' ye? Who denies me the right to four shares o' the money?"
"Me, Dennis Nolan!" said Dick Lynch. "I denies ye the right."
"Step up an' say it to my face," cried the skipper.
"Aye, step up an' give it to him straight," said one of the men. "Step up, Dick, I bes wid ye."
"Sure, 'twas me said it," growled one, Dan Keen.
"Be there four o' ye denies me the right to the money in me pocket?" asked the skipper.
Dick Lynch, Dan Keen and two others shuffled to the front of the group. Black Dennis Nolan looked them over with fury in his eyes and a sneer on his lips. He called up Bill Brennen and Nick Leary, and gave a pistol to each of them, and exchanged a few guarded words with them.
"Dick Lynch, Dan Keen, Corny Quinn an' Pat Lynch, stand where ye be," he said. "Ease back along the wall, the rest o' ye. I'll larn ye who bes skipper an' master o' this harbor! I'll larn ye if I bes as good as the four o' ye or not."
He slipped off his coat, with the weight of coined gold in the pockets of it, stepped swiftly around the end of the table and sprang furiously upon the four men who had denied his right to four shares of the loot.
Three of them, all husky fellows, stood their ground; but the fourth turned and dashed clear of the field of instruction. He was a small man, was Corny Quinn, and lacked the courage of his convictions.
The skipper struck the group of three with both feet off the ground. They staggered, clutched at him, aimed blows and curses at him. A terrible kick delivered by Dan Keen missed its intended object and brought Pat Lynch writhing to the floor, and before Dan fully realized his mistake something as hard as the side of a house struck him on the jaw and laid him across the victim of his error. Dick Lynch was more fortunate than his fellow-mutineers--for half a minute. He closed with the furious skipper and clung tightly to him, thus avoiding punishment for the moment. The two were well matched in height and weight; but the skipper was the stronger in both body and heart. Also, he seemed now to be possessed of the nerve-strength of a madman. He lifted his clinging antagonist clear of the floor, shook him and wrenched at him, and at last broke his hold and flung him against the wall. Dick landed on his feet, steadied himself for a moment and then dashed back to the encounter; but he was met by the skipper's fist--and that was the end of the fight.