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For half a minute the skipper was mad enough to kill the unconscious sailor with his hands and feet; but Mother Nolan and Mary Kavanagh together were equal to the task of holding him and bringing him to a glimmering of reason. Mother Nolan's tongue did not spare him, even as her fingers had not spared poor, loyal Bill Brennen's whiskers. "Would ye be murderin' him?" she cried.
I seed ye bat Nick Leary wid the leg o' the chair an' I seed that dacent old woman a-hangin' to Bill Brennen's whiskers like a wildcat to the moss on a tree." "An' why not, Denny Nolan?" retorted the girl. "Ye t'ree men was after murderin' that poor lad! D'ye think Mother Nolan was wantin' to see ye carried off to St. John's an' hung by yer neck? Sure, we was fightin' agin ye.
He would act upon Bill Brennen's advice and visit the mutineers at an early hour; and as to the wreck? well, if conditions proved favorable he would break out the cargo and see what could be made of it. Mother Nolan entered with an empty cup in her hand. "She took her draught like a babe, an' bes sleepin' agin peaceful as an angel," she whispered. "Mind ye makes no noise, Denny.
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