"Here is the culprit, Master Carver," announced he placing him in front of the governor.
"John Billington!" exclaimed Carver sternly. "Ever in mischief, what hast thou done now? Speak the truth, boy, or 't is the worse for thee."
"I did but take dad's gun from the hooks in our cabin, and she went off in my hands," whimpered the boy.
"Nay, 'twas more than that, for we heard not one but several explosions," persisted the governor.
"There was a keg of gunpowder under the bed," confessed the boy reluctantly, "and—and—some of it flew out upon the floor."
"Flew out without hands!" exclaimed Hopkins, but Carver raised his finger and asked mildly,—
"And what didst thou with the powder on the floor, John?"
"I made some squibs as father did last Guy Fawkes Day," muttered the boy.
"And dropped the fire among the loose powder on the floor, and so sent all off together!" broke in Hopkins again. "And if the keg had caught, thou wouldst have blown the ship to pieces! Thou unwhipt rascal, thou 'rt enough to corrupt a whole colony of boys. If my Bartholomew ever speaks to thee again I'll break every bone in his body, as I'd well like to thine, and will"—
"Nay, nay, Master Hopkins!" interposed the governor sternly. "It is never well to threaten what we cannot perform. We break not bones nor put to the torture in our new community; but, John Billington, I shall counsel thy father to take thee ashore and whip thee so soundly as shall make thee long remember that gunpowder is for thee forbidden fruit. Go, now, to thy cabin, and remain there till he comes, while I go to see what harm thou hast wrought."