"Keep silent, Groot!" said Grandon. "Keep silent, or we'll throw you overboard."
"Stop!" roared the mutineer. "Help! hel——"
He got no further, for raising his belaying pin, Vincent brought it down on the mutineer's head. Groot had been the one to lame the boatswain's back and the latter had not forgotten it. Over went the fellow and sank down as if dead.
"Drop him into the hold," ordered Grandon, and this was done just as Captain Ponsberry and Luke Striker appeared at the foot of the rope ladder.
"Another, eh?" said the master of the Columbia. "Good enough! How are you, Tom? How are you, Vincent?"
"We're ready to fight 'em," answered the first mate. "Come on! They've got so much liquor aboard they can't do much to us!"
"Be careful, I don't want anybody shot if it can be avoided," responded Captain Ponsberry.
"I think it would be a good plan to dump them all into the hold," said Larry. "Then we could nail up that pantry door, put the hatch into place, and keep them at our mercy."
"If the plan will work, it's a good one," answered the captain.
One after another they came out on deck, leaving Wilbur and Groot in the hold. They found the mutineers equally divided between the galley and the forecastle. The only man in charge of the schooner was Conroy, who was at the wheel.