Of a sudden he turned on Hemstead in
the ship's waist, knocked him against the foresail
boom, then knocked him under it, and had set him up and
knocked him down once more, before any one had drawn a
breath.
"Here! Belay that!" roared Wicks, leaping to his feet.
"I won't have none of this."
Mac turned to the captain with ready civility. "I only
want to learn him manners," said he. "He took and
called me Irishman."
"Did he?" said Wicks. "O, that's a different story!--
"That made you do it, you tomfool? You ain't big enough
to call any man that."
"I didn't call him it," spluttered Hemstead, through
his blood and tears. "I only mentioned-like he was."
"Well, let's have no more of it," said Wicks.
"But you ARE Irish, ain't you?" Carthew asked of
his new shipmate shortly after.
"I may be," replied Mac, "but I'll allow no Sydney duck
to call me so. No," he added, with a sudden heated
countenance, "nor any Britisher that walks! Why, look
here," he went on, "you're a young swell, aren't you?
Suppose I called you that!" I'll show you," you would
say, and turn to and take it out of me straight.
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