In Search of an Unknown Race — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

22 VAN. ‘¢T think—a—Briscoe,” began Bates, familiarly, ‘‘ that under all the circumstances, you had better take your traps for’ard to the forecastle. Mr. Smith here will act as my mate till further notice, and sleep aft in the berth you have used. ‘‘No words,’ he added, sharply, as Van began to utter an indignant protest. ‘‘I’m master of this vessel now!” ‘‘And I’m the mate,” coarsely put in Smith, as the self-appointed captain descended to the main deck. ‘‘Confound you,” snarled Smith, addressing Van as soon as Bates was out of hearing; ‘‘if I don’t make this here a hot ship for you after this, my name ain’t— ain’t wot it zs,” he said, suddenly checking himself. ‘«And you, you ugly nigger—’” turning fiercely to Tom, who had taken a step forward as though in defense of Van—‘‘none of your savage looks—git back to yer place—d’ye hear?” Perhaps if the new mate had not attempted to enforce his authority by a blow, the remark might have passed unnoticed. As it was, Smith had mistaken his man. For with a deep guttural utterance like that of a wild beast, the negro seized the sailor in his powerful grasp, and lifting him off his feet as though he had been a child, dashed him heavily against the lee rail. At the same moment Bates, who had turned at the sound of the scuffle, sprang with one leap on the quarter. Seeing his trusty lieutenant lying stunned and bleeding on the deck, he drew Captain Peterson’s revolver, pointed it directly at the negro’s head, and fired! GEoOMmIichbooksre