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Updated: June 14, 2025
Spikeley: you can get into your bunk, or have your carcass thrown into the bay; and you haven't got a great while to think of it." The engineer seemed to be properly impressed by the sight of the weapon, and he could see that the chambers contained cartridges. He rose from his seat, and moved towards the door of the engine-room.
"I shall not ask Spikeley to start the engine, and if he don't interfere with me, I shall not harm him; for he seems to be a cripple, and it would hurt my feelings to have to lay hands on him, or even to point a revolver at his head." "If Spikeley don't start the engine, I reckon it will not start itself," suggested Percy. "I don't believe it will." "What are you going to do, then?"
Christy had not heard the name of Spikeley before; but he concluded that he must be one of the soldiers, probably one of the two who had come on board with Lieutenant Dallberg. "I don't think I do," replied the man addressed, in a tone quite as loud as that of the military officer.
Spikeley?" asked Christy, as he went to the door of the engine-room. "What's that to you, youngster?" demanded the engineer; and possibly it did not comport with his dignity to be bossed by a boy. "It is rather important for me to know just now," replied Christy, looking as savage as it was possible for a good-natured boy to look. "What do you want to know for?" asked Spikeley.
"I heard some of the men say you was a Yank, and I reckon you be," said Spikeley. "What are you go'n to do?" "I am going to get you into your bunk, where you will be more comfortable than you are here. Move on!" The man obeyed; for he was unarmed, and he did not like the looks of the revolver. Without another word, he moved forward, and descended to the forecastle.
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