CHAPTER III.
THE DOOR IN THE BULKHEAD.
We left the leaders of the mutiny in the forecastle, consulting, in their own coarse and blustering fashion, about the capture of the cabin, and thus acquiring entire possession of the ship.
"Batten down the companion-hatch—kiver up the skylight with tarpaulin," suggested the short, thickset ruffian Sharkey, "and then smoke 'em out, like rats."
"Wa-al, but look ye here—the tew gals," drawled Badger, inserting an enormous quid in his mouth with the point of his jack-knife. "Would ye smoke 'em tew, till they went dead, eh?"
"Aye, the senoritas," added Zuares, "that would never do; they are the best plunder on board—the plunder most to my taste, at least."
"The cabin we must and shall get," said Pedro, grinding his teeth. "While one of these men aft is permitted to live, the ship cannot be said to be ours."
"And if one should escape, anyhow," added Sharkey, "we might have some man-o'-war in our wake before we knew where we were."
"Dead men tell no tales, darn 'em, that's old buccaneer style, long afore Kidd went a-cruising in the Vulture," said the Yankee; "and they or we must be gone coons, or, airthquakes and ginger! you can't reckon on what may 'appen, you can't."
"And they have possession of the bread, beef, and spirit room, and all that we most require," resumed Pedro, "for we can't eat the dry goods and hardware in the forehold, mates; so the knife it must be."