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Parson Capen's speech was sharp. He did not spill over on every occasion. He had no little spurts of wit like a spatter of water on a hot stove, but when he let out his joke it went off like a percussion cap.
He sat up on the edge of the bed. "Rubbish!" he cried at last, "why, 'tain't possible! The feller's dead as Methusalem's grandmarm. I remember how it happened and " "It wasn't true. That much I know. I KNOW, I tell you." He went on to explain why he knew. Capen's astonishment grew. "Judas priest!" he exclaimed again. "That would explain why I thought I'd seen There! heave ahead. I've got to see.
"Yes," said the black man Jim, here, breaking silence, "we'll show you de way back if you kin go up in a boat dey can rest in, fur dey's most all clean done out, an' de capen's wound is awful bad yit." "This captain, what's his name?" inquired Coolidge.
"And I must go with you whether I want to or not?" "The Capen's very identical words!" There was nothing to be done. I bit my lips with suppressed anger, and signified that I was at his disposal, since I couldn't help it. The impression was very strong in my mind that the Admiral wouldn't hesitate to put me in irons if I showed signs of mutiny.
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