CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
BREAKERS AHEAD! "Hullo, steady there--belay that!" exclaimed Captain Billings, half-way up the poop ladder, which he was ascending hastily, two steps at a time, "Mr--Mr Macdougall--Martin Leigh! What's this disgraceful row about ?" I had quickly picked up a handspike when I saw that I had missed my aim with the snatch-block, while my antagonist--who, to do him justice, had plenty of pluck, and had only been startled for the moment by the heavy missile hurtling through the air close to his projecting nose--was advancing to attack me again with his fists clenched, a savage look the while on his face, as if he meant to settle me this time; but, on this interruption from the skipper, we both relinquished our hostile attitudes, Mr Macdougall slinking towards the binnacle, as if innocently engaged in studying the bearings of the compass there, and I dropping the handspike incontinently.
There was a ringing tone of command in the skipper's voice which meant that he intended to be obeyed; but mixed with this, beyond a slight suspicion of surprise at the unexpected scene which met his gaze, there was a good deal of subdued irritation, which really was not to be wondered at.
He had been having an afternoon nap in his cabin, which was situated immediately below the deck where the mate and I had been rehearsing the little drama I have just detailed; and the noise we had made with "the movements of the piece," to speak theatrically, having very unceremoniously disturbed his slumbers before the period he generally allowed himself for his "forty winks" had expired, his temper was not sweetened thereby beforehand, only just needing the unseemly _fracas_ which he noticed on coming on the poop to send it up to fever-heat.
I had never seen Captain Billings so angry since I had been on board the _Esmeralda_; his blue eyes fairly flashed forth fire! He took no notice of me at first, advancing towards the chief mate.
"Mr Macdougall," said he, sharply, "I call upon you for an explanation of this--this--discreditable affair!" "Yon dratted loon, Capting, sought me life!" replied the other, glibly.
"He hove a snatch-block at me, and takkin' the pairt of my ain defeence I was gangin' to poonish him a wee when ye came on deck." "And did you give him no occasion for behaving so insubordinately, sir ?" asked the skipper, looking Mr Macdougall straight in the face with a piercing glance, as if defying him to answer him untruthfully.
But the mate was too old a hand at "spinning a yarn," as sailors term dealing in fictitious statements.

He could utter a falsehood without winking once! "Nae, sir," said he, as cool as a cucumber, making no reference to the fact of his having twice knocked me down before I retaliated on him, "I did naething to the loon, naething at a'! I only joost reprovit him a wee for his bad language and inseelance, ye ken, an' he oops wi' yon block an' heaves at me puir head.

It's joost a marcy o' Proveedence he did nae knockit me brains oot!" Fortunately for the Scotsman, his good or bad angel was in the ascendant at this moment, substantiating this incomplete account he gave as to what had happened.

As luck would have it, too, Captain Billings had only got up the poop ladder in time to take heed of the latter part of the fray, and thus the evidence of his own eyesight corroborated apparently the mate's assertion, that I had made a most unjustifiable assault on him.
Greatly incensed, therefore, he now turned on me.
"I saw the assault myself, Mr Macdougall; so I don't merely take your word alone for it.

What have you got to say, Leigh, in excuse for your outrageous behaviour?
It's--it's scandalous; I could thrash you myself!" My pride, however, was roused by the fact of his having accepted the mate's explanation without asking me for any explanation first, and so condemning me unheard; consequently, without taking into consideration the thought that it was only proper that Captain Billings should support the authority of his chief officer unhesitatingly, I answered him rather pertly, only feeling my own wrong, and not considering what was the skipper's obvious duty.
"If you believe Mr Macdougall," I replied, in a rude, off-hand way, "there's nothing for me to say." "You ungrateful young hound!" cried out the skipper, who, if angry before, was now as mad as a hatter at my impudence.