"Don't brandy words with me!" retorted the Captain, with great dignity. "Brandy," as a verb, was one of those words peculiarly his own.
"And where 'll we git hold of another boat?" demanded Biff Perkins.
"And think of all that good grub bein' wasted!" dolefully went on Piggie Brennan.
Several craven spirits even dropped their oars, and attempted to desert their posts.
"Stand by your oars!" roared the Captain, as loudly as an uncommonly tight belt would permit. And one by one the crew went reluctantly back. In the mean time, foot by foot, the green boat was bearing down on them.
"Stand by there, Greyhound!" cried a shrill old voice suddenly.
How Captain and crew thrilled with something that was more than mere fear at those wonderful and historic-sounding words,—"Stand by there!"—How many a Spanish Main skipper had hearkened to the same dire command, in days gone by! It was worth going through, even though they were captured and bound, in the end, thought Lonely, with his keen sense for dramatic values. He
