“Something doing in the chart-room,” he said cautiously.  “Thought you might not want to miss it.”

He was in his bare feet, as was I. Together we hurried to the after house.  The steersman, in oilskins, was at his post, but was peering through the barred window into the chart-room, which was brilliantly lighted.  He stepped aside somewhat to let us look in.  The loud and furious voices which had guided us had quieted, but the situation had not relaxed.

Singleton, the first mate, and Turner were sitting at a table littered with bottles and glasses, and standing over them, white with fury, was Captain Richardson.  In the doorway to the main cabin, dressed in pajamas and a bathrobe, Vail was watching the scene.

“I told you last night, Mr. Turner,” the captain said, banging the table with his fist, “I won’t have you interfering with my officers, or with my ship.  That man’s on duty, and he’s drunk.”

“Your ship!” Turner sneered thickly.  “It’s my ship, and I—­I discharge you.”

He got to his feet, holding to the table.  “Mr. Singleton—­hic—­ from now on you’re captain.  Captain Singleton!  How—­how d’ye like it?”

Mr. Vail came forward, the only cool one of the four.

“Don’t be a fool, Marsh,” he protested.  “Come to bed.  The captain’s right.”

Turner turned his pale-blue eyes on Vail, and they were as full of danger as a snake’s.  “You go to hell!” he said.  “Singleton, you’re the captain, d’ye hear?  If Rich—­if Richardson gets funny, put him —­in irons.”

Singleton stood up, with a sort of swagger.  He wes less intoxicated than Turner, but ugly enough.  He faced the captain with a leer.

“Sorry, old fellow,” he said, “but you heard what Turner said!”

The captain drew a deep breath.  Then, without any warning, he leaned across the table and shot out his clenched fist.  It took the mate on the point of the chin, and he folded up in a heap on the floor.

“Good old boy!” muttered Burns, beside me.  “Good old boy!”

Turner picked up a bottle from the table, and made the same incoordinate pass with it at the captain as he had at me the morning before with his magazine.  The captain did not move.  He was a big man, and he folded his arms with their hairy wrists across his chest.

“Mr. Turner,” he said, “while we are on the sea I am in command here.  You know that well enough.  You are drunk to-night; in the morning you will be sober; and I want you to remember what I am going to say.  If you interfere again—­with—­me—­or—­my officers—­I—­shall—­ put—­you—­in—­irons.”

He started for the after companionway, and Burns and I hurried forward out of his way, Burns to the lookout, I to make the round of the after house and bring up, safe from detection, by the wheel again.  The mate was in a chair, looking sick and dazed, and Turner and Vail were confronting each other.