“Mr. Jenkins wants to know if you will come on deck for a moment, sir,” was the whispered reply. “The wind is freshening, and he would like to haul around more to the westward.”
Without waiting for an answer, the fellow went on deck; but he stood close by the companion-way, after whispering to the man at the wheel:
“Have that belaying-pin ready to knock him down, if he doesn’t give me a fair chance of cutting off his wind.”
Then the sound of footsteps told that the captain had left his room, and twenty seconds later he appeared at the top of the ladder.
Coming suddenly into the darkness as he had, and unsuspicious that the summons was a false one, the work of making him a prisoner was exceedingly simple.
Struggle as he might, nothing could be effected, for half-a-dozen of the scoundrels were upon him instantly the leader made the first move, and now there was no longer any necessity of preserving such perfect silence.
“Three of you tackle the cook, and when that has been done, I’ll attend to the cubs,” the leader said, in an ordinary tone, while Captain Mansfield was being carried to the hatch and laid beside the mate and sailors.
“Its all done, and the nigger is lashed in his berth,” one of the men reported before the prisoners thought sufficient time had elapsed for the villains to reach the forecastle.
“Did he give you any trouble?”
“Not a bit, but acted as if he expected something of the kind. How long will it take you to fix the boys?”