"'Keep her so. I tell you it is right,' said the lieutenant.
"'Well, of course I am not responsible now, but I am an older sailor than you, Captain Stone, and I tell you if you want to clear Hatteras, another two points east will do no harm. Do but look at my chart; I left it open on the cabin table. And the coffee will be ready now,' and Captain Wilson led the way from the poop to the cabin, followed by the commander.
"There was a passage about five yards long leading from the deck to the cabin, a door at either end. The captain stopped at the first door, closing it, and picking from behind it an iron belaying pin which he had placed there. The younger man went forward to the cabin where the chart lay upon the table.
"'Stone!' The lieutenant turned at the sudden peremptory exclamation of his name. His arm upraised, the heavy iron bolt in his hand, in low, but hard, eager, quick words, 'My ship shall never go to Philadelphia!' said the captain. He did not strike. It was unnecessary. Montgomery had thrust the gag in the young lieutenant's mouth; he was bound hand and foot, bundled into a berth, and the door locked. Three out of fifteen were thus disposed of. There was still the watch on deck and the watch below.
"The construction of the Emily St. Pierre was of a kind not unusual, but still not very common. The quarters of the crew were not in the forecastle, but in a roundhouse amidships. The name does not describe its shape. It was an oblong house on deck with windows and one door. From the poop, or upper deck, at the stern, over the cabins and staterooms and the passage before mentioned, there was a companion stair on the port side leading to the deck at the waist; whilst a similar companionway at the stern led down to the level of the deck, which could also be approached direct from the cabins through the passage. In this space, behind the poop, was the wheel, slightly raised, for the steersman to see clear of the poop; and there was a hatchway leading to the lazaret hold, a small supplementary hold usually devoted to stores, extra gear, coils of spare rope, and so on. Nothing that might be done on this part of the deck could be seen, therefore, from the waist of the ship; vice versa, except by the steersman, who was elevated by a step or two above the level.
"Coming on this part of the deck from the cabin, Captain Wilson called to the three men who were about, and pointing to a heavy coil of rope in the lazaret, ordered them to get it up at once—Lieutenant Stone's orders. They jumped down without demur, suspecting nothing, as soon as the captain shoved the hatch aside. They were no sooner in than he quickly replaced and fastened the hatch. The three were securely trapped in full view of the helmsman, whose sailor's instinct kept him in his place at the wheel.
"'If you utter a sound or make a move,' said the captain, showing a revolver, 'I'll blow your brains out!' and then he called aft the lookout man, the last of the watch on deck. The man came aft. Would he help to navigate the ship to England? No; he would not. He was an American. Then would he call the watch? He would do that. And eagerly he did it; but the next moment he was laid low on the deck, and bundled unceremoniously into the lazaret with his three companions, the hatchway replaced and secured, Captain Wilson standing on guard near by.
"Meanwhile the watch below had been called and were astir. When sailors tumble out they generally do so gradually and by twos and threes. The first two that came aft were quickly overpowered, one at a time, and bound. The third man drew his knife and dashed at the steward, who fired, wounding him severely in the shoulder. It was the only shot that was fired. Finding that cook and steward and captain were all armed, the rest of the watch below quietly surrendered, and submitted to be locked in the roundhouse, prisoners of the bold and resolute man who in the course of an hour had thus regained possession of his ship against overwhelming odds.
"For England! Yes, homeward bound in an unseaworthy ship; for a ship that is undermanned is unseaworthy to the last degree. It is worse than overloading. And here is our brave captain 3,000 miles from home calmly altering her course the few points eastward he had recommended to the lieutenant, homeward bound for England, his crew a steward and a cook! Neither could steer, nor hand, nor reef. Brave-hearted Matthew Montgomery, honest Louis Schevlin, now is the time to show what savor of seamanship you have picked up amongst your pots and pans of the galley and the pantry.
"The first thing was to wash and bandage the wounded shoulder of the man who was shot, the next to put all the prisoners in the roundhouse under lock and key. Four of them out of twelve volunteered to assist in working the ship rather than submit to the tedium of imprisonment. The irony of fate. But one of the four could steer, and he imperfectly. And the courses are set, and the topsails, lower and upper, are drawing and the topgallant sails, too—pray Heaven this wind may last and no stronger.