The dead sailors in the forecastle were buried quietly that night.
Another heated argument among the mutineers presently arose, and about half of them again came aft, and thrusting their arms between the bars of the stockade begged for some food.
'Not a morsel till you surrender,' the skipper sternly replied.
'We no wanchee fight,' a man replied. 'Noder Chinaman him no good. Plenty shoot. Savvee?'
'I think you might let them through the gate, sir,' Mr. Sennit said. 'They seem to have had enough of it.'
'Not so fast, man,' the captain sang out. 'This may be some dodge to seize all hands. Let us find out what is meant.'
The applicants were suddenly assailed by the still mutinous portion of their countrymen, and a desperate encounter ensued. Captain Thorne would not interfere, but after a prolonged struggle the attackers were finally defeated and driven to the 'tween deck. Then hastening to the stockade those left on deck again asked for help, and promised to behave well in future.
'I now believe they are sincere,' the captain said. 'Let them pass through, Sennit.'
When grouped at the stern and supplied with biscuit and water the men expressed their gratitude. Some of them made extraordinary signs, apparently directed toward those down below, and the surrender proved genuine.
The men numbered thirty-eight all told, and seemed surprised by the kindness bestowed. They continued to direct attention to the 'tween deck, and had the captain correctly understood what was intended, much subsequent trouble might have been avoided. He could not be expected to waste more time over such considerations, and no one took any notice of the well-intentioned warnings.