"By God, Jones, she's walking," he heard the captain boom across
to the mate.
Just then a figure cut past him and made straight for the captain.
Farnum recognized in it the sailor whom he had left asleep in the
forecastle and even in that fleeting glance was aware of the man's
livid fury. Up the steps he went like a wild beast.
"What kind of a boat is this?" he panted hoarsely.
The captain turned toward him. His eyes were shining wickedly, but
his voice was ominously suave and honeyed. "This boat, son, is a
threemasted schooner, name of _Nancy Hanks_ , Master Joshua Green,
bound for the Solomon Islands with a cargo of Oregon fir."
"I've been shanghaied. This is a nest of crimps," the man
screamed.
Joshua Green's salient jaw came forward. "Been shanghaied, have
you? And we're a nest of crimps, are we? Son, the less I hear of
that line of talk the better. Put that in your pipe and smoke it."
The man turned loose a flood of profanity and swore he would rot
in hell before he would touch a rope on that ship.
Out went Green's great gnarled fist. The seaman shot back from the
quarterdeck and struck a pile of rope below. He was up again and
down again almost quicker than it takes to tell.
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