But the marooning was finally decided on, and the mutineers retired to their bunks or to their duty.
Little did they know that the cabin-boy, with listening ears, though almost frightened out of his life, was hiding behind the winch and had heard every word they had said.
As soon as it was possible he escaped, and going at once aft, he reported in a frightened whisper all the details of the terrible plot.
“Horrible!” said Dickson.
“Strikes me,” said Hall, “that there must be a Jonah on board, or a murderer. Let us draw for him, putting all names in a hat, and then lynch the fellow!”
“If,” said Dickson, “there be a murderer on board, the fellow is that Finn.”
“Seize the scoundrel at once, then,” cried Hall, “and throw him to the sharks or put him in irons.”
“No, I’ll wait, and Williams shall be our spy.”
Nearly all the mutineers were in the same watch, only one good man and true being among them. Norman played his game well. He knew that if suspected at all, they would be watched by night, so he chose broad daylight for the awful dénouement. While the men were below at dinner, those in the cabin all having luncheon, then Norman suddenly gave the preconcerted signal.
The hatches were thrown on in a moment, and screwed down by two men, while the main band rushed aft and secured the saloon door.