In ten minutes’ time every mutineer in the ship was in irons. Surely no mutiny was ever before quelled in so speedy and bloodless a manner!
“I knew,” said Hall, “that we had a Jonah on board, and that Jonah is the double-dyed villain Christian Norman. Say, Captain Dickson, is it going to be a hanging match?”
“I am almost tempted to hang the ringleader,” replied Dickson, “but this would be far too tragical, especially with ladies on board. Remember that, be his heart what it may, there is just one little good spot in his character. He dearly loved little Matty, and she loved him.”
“Well, sir, what are you going to do about it? I’d like to know that.”
“This. I cannot pardon any single one of these villains. The Scotsmen, indeed, are worse in a manner of speaking than the Finns or cowardly Spaniards. I shall mete out to them the same punishment, though in a lesser degree, that they would have meted out to us. Not on the inhospitable snow-clad shores of the Tierra del Fuego islands shall they be placed, but on the most solitary isle I can find in some of the South Pacific groups.”
Now things went on more pleasantly for a time. The prisoners were not only in leg-irons, but manacled, and with sentries placed over them watch and watch by night and by day. These men had orders to shoot at once any man who made the slightest attempt to escape.
It was about a week after this, the Wolverine had safely rounded the stormy Cape, and was now in the broad Pacific. A sailor of the name of Robertson had just gone on sentry, when, without a word of warning, Norman the Finn suddenly raised himself to his feet and felled him with his manacled hands. The strength of the fellow was enormous. But the ring of a rifle was heard next minute, and Norman fell on his face, shot through the heart.
He was thrown overboard that same evening with scant ceremony.
“I feel happier now,” said Hall, “that even our Jonah is no more. Now shall our voyage be more lucky and pleasant.”
Ah! but was it?