“Yassuh!” admitted Kink, in a whisper.
“Then don’t get up, unless I tell you to, and don’t make a sound of any kind,” warned Skipper Tom, standing before the sitting negro. “First of all, take that box of cartridges out of your pocket, and toss it a little distance away from you.”
The late guard obeyed. Tom, still keeping the fellow under close watch, recovered the cartridges.
“Now, you get down to the boat,” commanded Halstead. “Don’t make any noise and don’t ask any questions. There, that’s right. Halt. Now, in the locker under your hand, you’ll find some cord. Pull it out.”
As the negro obeyed, Tom ordered him to lie face downward on the ground, next putting his hands together behind his back. Picking up the cord, Halstead made a noose at one end. This he slipped over Kink’s crossed hands. Drawing the noose tight, he next knelt on the negro’s back, rapidly lashing the hands ere the fellow could make any movement to wrench himself free.
“Remember what I said about making a noise,” warned Tom. Going to the same locker he took out a quantity of engineer’s waste—an excellent stuff for making a gag. Some of this he forced into the black man’s mouth, making it fast with cord. All that remained was to knot the fellow’s ankles together just loosely enough so that he could barely walk, yet could not run.
“Now, onto your feet with you, my man,” muttered Halstead, raising him. “Now, over into the boat with you. Gently. Lie down out of sight. And bear in mind, if I get a sight of your head above the gunwale until I’m in the boat, it’ll be all up with you!”
Kink’s eyes rolled until only the whites could be seen. This black captive understood very well who had the upper hand.
Now, Tom turned his attention to untying the bowline.
“Kink! Ah say, Kink, yo’ black rascal!”