The ship was rolling gently. Kieran rested one hand lightly, by way of
balance, on a stay, and kicked his shoes overboard. "A step nearer, Mr.
Brown, and I go after the shoes."

"But it's five miles to the Florida shore, Kieran, and alive with
sharks. You'd never make it. Come on now."

"No. Five miles or fifty, I'll have a try at it."

Noyes now laid a warning hand on the captain's arm. "Are you going to
insist on putting that man in irons?"

"I am. And stand clear of me, you."

"If you try to, he'll jump overboard."

"And if he does, what of it?"

"If he does, there'll be a bad time ahead for you."

"There will? There's liable to be a bad time for you right now. Do you
know you have no rights on this ship unless I say so? Don't you know I
can put you in irons, too--that's marine law--if I feel like it?"

"I know what maritime law is. And that's the devil of it when there's a
brute on the bridge. You can put me in irons if you want to, but I don't
think you will."

"So?" sneered the captain. "I won't? And why not?"