"
Hindhaugh made up his mind in a flash. In spite of his habit of
wearing a frock-coat and tall hat, he was more than half a pirate,
and he would have ruffled it, like his red-bearded ancestors, had
fighting been still the usual employment of Norsemen. He marked his
man's throat, and saw that the insolent hands could not get at a
knife quickly. Then he sprang at the Scorpion, gripped him by the
windpipe, and swung him down. The fellow gurgled, but he couldn't
cry out. Hindhaugh called the steward, and that functionary came
out of his den with the long bowie. "Sit on him," said the captain.
"If he stirs cut his throat. Now, you, if you move a finger you're
done." The steward straddled across the Scorpion, and held the
knife up in a sarcastic way.
Hindhaugh went swiftly on deck, and stepped right among the jabbering
Spaniards. He smiled as though nothing had happened, but when he
saw one man lay hold of a bale he pulled him back. "Tell them I'll
shoot the first man that tries to lift a bale till I'm ready."
This message brought on a torrent of talk, which gave the captain
time. He whispered to Jack, "Sneak you round through the engine-room.
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