The scene was a strange one, and for the time quite a silent one. The
company had started from their seats, and for a moment held breathless
but strain'd positions. In the middle of the room stood the young man,
in his not at all ungraceful attitude--every nerve out, and his eyes
flashing brilliantly.
He seem'd rooted like a rock; and clasping him, with an appearance of
confidence in his protection, clung the boy.
"You scoundrel!" cried the young man, his voice thick with passion,
"dare to touch the boy again, and I'll thrash you till no sense is
left in your body."
The sailor, now partially recover'd, made some gestures of a
belligerent nature.
"Come on, drunken brute!" continued the angry youth; "I wish you
would! You've not had half what you deserve!"
Upon sobriety and sense more fully taking their power in the brains of
the one-eyed mariner, however, that worthy determined in his own mind
that it would be most prudent to let the matter drop. Expressing
therefore his conviction to that effect, adding certain remarks to the
purport that he "meant no harm to the lad," that he was surprised
at such a gentleman being angry at "a little piece of fun," and so
forth--he proposed that the company should go on with their jollity
just as if nothing had happen'd. In truth, he of the single eye was
not a bad fellow at heart, after all; the fiery enemy whose advances
he had so often courted that night, had stolen away his good feelings,
and set busy devils at work within him, that might have made his hands
do some dreadful deed, had not the stranger interposed.
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