We
are in God's hands. Let us trust to Him, but while doing that fully
and fearlessly, we must seek life, not death."
"Bully for you, miss!" roared a sailor, and a growl of admiration rang
through the cave. Instantly a hubbub of talk showed how intent the
crew had been on the previous discussion, but Coke shouted them into
silence.
"Oo axed wot _you_ think, you swabs?" he bellowed. "Stow your lip!
Sink me, if you don't all do as you're bid, an' keep still tongues in
your 'eds, I'll want to know w'y--P.D.Q."
A big, blond Norwegian, Hans Olsen by name, strode forward. Unlike the
usual self-contained Norseman, he was reputed a "sea-lawyer" in the
forecastle.
"We haf somedings ter zay for our lifes, yez," he protested. Coke bent
and butted him violently in the stomach with his head. The man crashed
against the rocky wall, and sat dazed where he had fallen.
"You've got to obey orders--savvy?" growled Coke.
"Yez," gasped Olsen, evidently fearing a further assault.
The incident ended. Its outstanding feature was the amazing activity
displayed by the burly skipper, who had rammed his man before the big
fellow could lift a finger. It might be expected that Iris would show
some sign of dismay, owing to this unlooked-for violence. But she was
now beyond the reach of merely feminine emotions.
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