“He's got your gun, sir,” spoke up Wison, “an' Gawd knows he be the one as'ud on'y be too glad for the chanct to use it.”
“Let me see if I can't handle him, sir,” said Theriere to Skipper Simms. “We don't want to lose any men if we can help it.”
The skipper was only too glad to welcome this unexpected rescue from the predicament in which he had placed himself. How Theriere was to accomplish the subjugation of the mutinous sailor he could not guess, nor did he care so long as it was done without risk to his own skin.
“Now if you'll go away, sir,” said Theriere, “and order the men away I'll see what I can do.”
Skipper Simms did as Theriere had requested, so that presently the officer stood alone beside the hatch. Across the deck, amidships, the men had congregated to watch Theriere's operations, while beyond them stood Barbara Harding held fascinated by the grim tragedy that was unfolding before her upon this accursed vessel.
Theriere leaned over the open hatch, in full view of the waiting Byrne, ready below. There was the instant report of a firearm and a bullet whizzed close past Theriere's head.
“Avast there, Byrne!” he shouted. “It's I, Theriere. Don't shoot again, I want to speak to you.”
“No monkey business now,” growled the mucker in reply. “I won't miss again.”
“I want to talk with you, Byrne,” said Theriere in a low tone. “I'm coming down there.”
“No you ain't, cul,” returned Byrne; “leastways yeh ain't a-comin' down here alive.”