“Can you throw it up over that rope?” asked Sam, pointing to a stay over his head.

“Sure thing!” cried Tom.

“Look out you don’t throw it overboard.”

“I’ll take care,” answered the fun-loving Rover, and launched the baseball high into the air.  Just then the steam yacht gave a lurch, the ball hit the mainmast, and down it bounced squarely upon Asa Carey’s head, knocking the mate’s cap over his eyes and sending him staggering backwards.

“Hi, hi! you young rascals!” roared the mate.  “What do you mean by such conduct?”

“Excuse me,” replied Tom, humbly.  “I didn’t mean to hit you.  It was an accident.”

“I think you did it on purpose, you young villain!”

“It was an accident, Mr. Carey—­and I’ll thank you not to call me a rascal and a villain,” went on Tom rather warmly.

“I’ll call you what I please!”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.  I am in command here, and I won’t have you throwing baseballs at me.”

“I just told you it was an accident.  If the yacht hadn’t rolled just as I threw the ball it would not have hit you.”

“Bah!  I know boys, and you especially.  You love to play tricks on everybody.  But you can’t play tricks on me.”  And as the mate spoke he stopped, picked up the rolling ball, and put it in his pocket.

“Are you going to keep that ball?” demanded Sam.

“I am.”

“It is our ball.”

“See here, Mr. Carey, we didn’t mean to hit you, and we were only amusing ourselves catching,” said Tom.  “We have hired this yacht and we have a right to do as we please on board so long as we don’t interfere with the running of the vessel.  I want you to give us our ball back.”  And Tom stepped up and looked the mate squarely in the eyes.

“What! you dare to dictate to me!” roared the mate, and raised his hand as if to strike Tom.  He thought the youth would retreat in fear, but Tom never budged.

“I am not trying to dictate, but I have rights as well as you.  I want that ball.”

“You can’t have it.”

“If you don’t give it to me I shall report the matter to Captain Barforth.”

At this threat the mate glared at Tom as if he wanted to eat the boy up.

“If I give you the ball you’ll be throwing it at me again,” he growled.

“I didn’t throw it at you.  But as for catching on the deck—­I shall ask the captain if that is not allowable.  I am quite sure it is, so long as we do no damage.”

“Going to sneak behind the captain for protection, eh?” sneered Asa Carey.  He did not like the outlook, for that very morning he had had some words with the commander of the steam yacht and had gotten the worst of it.

“I want that ball.”

The mate glared at Tom for a moment and then threw the ball to him.

“All right, take your old ball,” he muttered.  “But you be mighty careful how you use it after this or you’ll get into trouble,” and with this the mate walked away.