"We're lookin' in your eyes, chief," said Hovey.

And the song broke in: "Wha would be a traitor slave, Let him turn and flee!" Campbell was staring at the wall like one who sees a vision but cannot make out its meaning.
The voice of Black McTee swelled high and strong: "Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freemen stand and freemen fa', Let him on wi' me!" And the glass dropped from the lips of the Scotchman.

It crashed against the hard floor.

Broad Scotch was on his tongue.
"I canna drink wi' murderers!" he cried.
"Damn you!" said Hovey, and drove his fist into Campbell's face, hurling him to the deck.
The manacles were clapped on his wrists again; he was dragged once more to his feet.
"Take him out," said Hovey to the grinning sailors who had lingered in the door.

"Take him back to the waist of the ship before the wireless house.