“Now then, men,” said Petersen, “are you quite satisfied? Is there a man here who would injure a hair of this innocent head? If so, let him come into the wood with me.”
“We are all satisfied,” cried the men. Only the auburn-haired, fiend-faced Finn said nothing.
. . . . . .
The Zingara was once more at sea, and the wind was blowing free and fresh. Birds from the far-off islands or shores were floating in the air around her, and the very waves seemed to join in their wild and happy song.
Fore and aft the decks were clean and white, not a rope’s end uncoiled, not a trace that was not taut. Our heroes, Barclay and Davie, were briskly walking fore and aft on the lee-side of the deck, the thoughtful Antonio on the weather.
It was a day that would have made the heart of the veriest land-lubber jump for joy.
And yet the officers of this ship are standing on a veritable volcano, which may burst at any moment, though they know it not.
The mutineers have determined at all hazards to capture the Zingara, to land the officers and others on some island, and proceed to South America, to dispose of both ship and cargo.
But a storm of a different kind is brewing that will delay the mutiny—for a time, at all events.
Archie Webber comes on deck and approaches the captain.