A Queer Race: The Story of a Strange People — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

6: A QUEER RACE. fever ship like this ’ere? Better die of drink than be killed by Yellow Jack. Here goes”-—tossing off the. glass. ‘‘I swear I’ll never be sober again! I'll die drunk! Hip, hip, hurrah?” «Tsay, cap’n—you calls yourself cap’n, don’t you?” said another, coming close up to Bucklow—‘‘ you just sheer off and leave us alone, or it’!l be worse for you. We are the masters of this ’ere ship, and we mean to do what we d——d like!” The words were hardly out of the fellow’s mouth when Bucklow knocked him down, and then, with a gesture of unger and disgust, the mate turned on his heel, which he had no sooner done than one of the cowardly scoun- drels, who had crept- behind him unperceived, struck him a terrible blow on the head with a belaying-pin. Bat he was quickly avenged. As Bucklow reeled and fell, [ drew my revolver anil shot his assailant dead. Then, pointing the still smok- ing weapon at the others, I bade them throw the cask of rum overboard. The death of their comrade had scared, if not sobered them, and I was obeyed on the instant. ‘‘Ts there any more, Bolsover?” I asked. “Yes, sir; two casks,’ ‘etch them here and throw them overboard.” This, too, was done. In the meanwhile Oscar the Swede, and one or two of the men who were more sensible than the rest, had raised poor Bucklow up and carried him into the captain’s cabin. He was badly hurt, and quite insensible. After doing all I could for him, bathing and plastering up the: wound on his head, and leaving him in charge of our only surviving boy, I went on deck again, and found that those of the men who were not absolutely drunk and incapable were shortening sail under Bolsover’s di- rections. ‘““You’ve frightened ’em, sir,” said the boatswain. «<The way von shot down that scoundrel Smithers was a caution.” ‘Tt was done on the impulse of the moment, Bolsover; my revolver seemed to go off by itself,” I returned, for Smithers still lay where he fell, in a pool of blood. The b (E(o)/ AA) C JOO KS Eeom