“Silence,” ordered Ned sternly.
Then, marching his men up to the patrol, he gave his next order to his abashed followers.
“Armstrong, you and Peters take these fellows down to the launch and tell them there that they are under arrest. I shall hold you responsible for their safe delivery. As soon as you have done this, hurry back. You’ll find us somewhere along this street or you can easily locate us by inquiry.”
He turned to his two sullen-faced, surly prisoners.
“Now, men, you realize that you are prisoners. You’d better go peaceably or you may make a long stay in the brig with stoppage of pay and liberty. I’m going to spare you the ignominy of handcuffs. I think you’ve suffered enough.”
“Well, I should remark! Look at Sharp’s eye,” sputtered the irrepressible Herc.
“Taylor, if I hear any more from you, you will be ordered back to the steamer,” said Ned curtly.
When on duty, Ned recognized no friendships. A breach of discipline such as Herc’s was just as much of an offense as if any other man had committed it.
“Right face! Twos! Forward march!” ordered Ned. The eight remaining men of his force swung into the formation indicated with military precision, and off they marched once more through the unsavory Chinese quarter. Coming up the street on the other side, Ned espied a man from the New Hampshire. He was a respectable-looking fellow and was plainly in the quarter buying curios to send back home. His arms were full of purchases, most of them paid for at exorbitant rates, for the Chinese merchant swindles a sailor without compunction.
“Ahoy, shipmate!” hailed Ned. “We’re a picket sent out to round up the stragglers. Seen any of our fellows?”