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MORGAN ROBERTSON.
539
chief mate—short, broad, and smooth-faced, with an upturn to the corners of his mouth, and twinkling blue eyes, which, in spite of a dark circle around one of them, gave his countenance a deceptive look of suppressed merriment.
"So, ho, my man," he said, breezily, "so you nearly kill my second officer, do you?"
"Not this fellow, Captain Millen," said the mate; "not him, the other. This man raised a handspike over me and threatened to hang me."
"I was excited, Cappen," said Tom.
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"HE WAS BENT OVER, GASPING, STRUGGLING, AND VAINLY STRIKING."
