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164 he had once been a prize-fighter, but if that was so he must have had a yellow streak in him, for it was evident that the men had cowed him and that he did not dare make a move.

Here was a pretty kettle of fish!—the authority of the executive officer defied to his face. Instantly appreciating the danger of such a state of affairs on such a ship as the Georgia, I suddenly leaped upon the man and bore him to the deck, where, in a jiffy, the master-in-arms placed the bracelets on his wrists. The other mutineers, quietly extending their arms in sign of submission, were placed in irons, and confined below. The discipline of the ship needed as much repairing as the vessel did herself. It was time the Georgia sought a civilized port for more reasons than one.