"Well done, lads!" exclaimed the governor, leaning on his spear, and surveying the battle-field, and the valiant warriors who surrounded him. "We said we'd do it, an' we've kept our promise. Cap'n, I turn the vessel over to you."
"I say, Newcombe!" shouted the first-lieutenant of the Storm King, from his prison, "I want to ask you a question."
"Well, ask away," drawled the captain.
"I want to know if you are commander of the yacht now?"
"I am," answered Tom, with becoming dignity.
"Are you going to take her to sea to-night?"
Tom replied that he was.
"It is all up with us, boys," said Harry, turning to his fellow prisoners. "If Newcombe ever gets the yacht outside the harbor, we're booked for Davy's Locker, sure. How does he suppose he can manage a vessel like this in a storm, when he can scarcely handle a little sail-boat in calm weather?"
"All hands on deck!" commanded Tom, who did not hear what Harry said. "Bear a hand, and get the outfit aboard! Jump down into the yawl, a couple of you, and pass up those boxes! Xury, see that they are stowed away in the cabin and galley!"
The chief and one of his men sprang into the boat, and the first thing they handed up to their companions on deck was the fisher-boy, who had lain under the thwarts during the fight, heartily wishing that Sam and his band might be defeated, so that he would be released. His situation was a trying one indeed. To be obliged to remain bound hand and foot, while an ignorant, unskillful young captain was taking him out to sea, would have tried stronger nerves than his. While the governor and his men were lifting him to the deck—an operation of some difficulty, owing to the constant rocking of the vessel—he renewed his entreaties that they would release his hands and feet, and he even went so far as to promise that, if allowed the freedom of the deck, he would not make the least attempt at escape. But the chief would not listen. He was afraid of his prisoner, and he believed that the only way to prevent him from doing mischief was to keep him securely bound. Friday and Jack Spaniard carried him into the cabin, and laid him on the sofa, after which they returned to the deck to assist in stowing away the outfit. When the last box had been safely housed in the galley, the chief sprang over the rail, cast off the painter, and gave his fine yawl up to the mercy of the waves. "Now cap'n," said he; "we're all ready."