“Oh yes, sir. You see, before the mutiny began, Jarette set some one, as I heard afterward, to smuggle all the cartridges and weapons he could out of the cabins and from the captain’s locker.”
“Yes, we found out that had been done. Who did they send?”
Bob Hampton chuckled.
“Why, you know, sir.”
“Not Mr Walters?”
“If you was to spend all the rest o’ your life, sir, making shots at it, you wouldn’t never get nigher than that.”
“The young scoundrel! Then you know where the cartridges are?”
“Course I do, sir: under the battened down hatches yonder. Frenchy put ’em there himself, and wouldn’t let no one go nigh ’em, ’cause the fellows were always smoking. I got down to ’em at night when the storm was coming, as you know, and when you want more, there they are,—yer pistols and guns too.”
“Oh, that puts quite a different complexion upon our position, Mr Denning. We can fire as much as we like,” cried the mate. “But one word more, Hampton. What about the mutineers? Have they a very large supply of ammunition?”
“Well, sir, that I can’t say. I know Jarette always kep’ his pockets jam-full, but I don’t know nothing about the others.”