Page:Arthur Stringer - Gun Runner.djvu/268

 monotone, "what call've yuh got to go prize-fightin on your own ship?"

"Shut up!" howled back his superior officer. "Get back!"

"Why're yuh fightin with a he-rhinoceros like him?" persisted the other.

"Get back! Gi' me room!"

The gloomy misanthrope of the engine-room did not move. He stood regarding the circle with calm and scoffing eyes.

"It ain't fittin'," he slowly objected. "And it ain't right!"

"Right? I know my rights!" yelped back Captain Yandel, waving the interloper aside.

He rolled up his sleeves, with shaking hands, disclosing strangely fashioned tattooed figures on his thick and hirsute forearms.

McKinnon closed the door, that the woman in the cabin might not see. There was the sound of a boatswain's whistle, a murmur of voices, a quick shuffling of feet. A space was cleared on the deck, promptly, solemnly, as though for the despatch of some casual and duly appointed ship's business. Then the circle re-formed, watching and silent, waiting with set faces, for what was to come. And McKinnon saw that it was indeed to come, that there was no escaping it.

For one moment only did Ganley hesitate.