Читать книгу The Secret Chart; or, Treasure Hunting in Hayti онлайн

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“I’se gwine ter say wha’ I wants ter,” Andy replied, angrily. “I’se de cook ob dis yere craft, an’ ef yer spectin’ ter git grub, dere ain’ no call fur yippin’.”

“Hold your tongue!” the fellow cried, seizing his tin plate of food and hurling it at the old darkey’s head.

Andy dodged the missiles, which, striking the companionway, were scattered over the clean deck, and the infuriated man ran toward him with the evident purpose of inflicting bodily injury.

It so chanced that Captain Mansfield came from the cabin at the same instant the plate was thrown, and, before anything more could be done, he shouted:

“Hold on there! What is the meaning of all this?”

The words were sufficient to cause the man to halt suddenly, and, turning around, he replied, in a sullen, insolent tone:

“I don’t reckon on taking lip from any nigger, no matter who he is.”

The cook was still standing in the companionway, and going forward quickly, the captain asked him what had been said.

The sailor would have given his version of the affair, attempting to prevent the old darky from speaking; but Captain Mansfield said, sternly: