"You wouldn't pull far," said somebody. "We've got a quick-firer trained on to you. Now then, up with you!"
"No, sir," said Stickine, grinning. "I'm expecting some show of civility as an officer of the sealer, and if you turned that gun loose on us there'd be nobody to take you out of here."
There was a growl on the deck above them, and somebody said, "Oh, give it him! We want to get through with the thing."
It was probably ten minutes before the ladder was hung over, and leaving one man in the boat the others went up, while Appleby stared about him with interest when he reached the deck. The gunboat looked very big after the Champlain, and even in the haze he could see that she was very trim. Lights blinked about him, there was a simmering of steam, and the long wet deck, tall spars, swaying funnel, spotless paint, and the neatness of everything gave him a sense of security and comfort which he had not been used to on board the schooner. He had, however, little time to look round, for as the sealers stepped in through the gangway a cluster of bluejackets closed in about them, and one of them laid his hand on Stickine's shoulder. The sealer shook his grasp off, and swung round, doubling up a great fist.
"Hello! Are you wanting anything?" he said.
An officer stepped out into the light. "You're under arrest! The Commander is waiting aft," he said.
Appleby was almost surprised into a little gasp of consternation, but he saw that Stickine was smiling dryly and checked it. Then they tramped aft along the deck, and finally stopped outside a cabin in the poop.
"I'll bring the leader in first, sir?" said their conductor.
"That's what I am wanting," said Stickine. "Still, as somebody has got to hear what he has to tell me, this lad's coming along."
He grasped Appleby's arm and shoved him into the cabin, and for a moment or two the lad stood blinking about him. At first, being still a trifle dazzled by the light, he only noticed that the little cabin with its snowy paint, varnished panelling, and curtains on the brass-ringed ports, seemed very luxurious after the hold of the Champlain. Then he saw that a young officer sat at a table, while another stood behind him. His face was not unpleasant, though just then he looked angry, and in his trim uniform he formed a striking contrast to Stickine, who stood, bronzed and lean, in curiously fashioned garments of fur and canvas, smiling at him.