“That’s exactly what I mean to do with her,” replied Phil, quietly.
“Where?”
“At Anvik, less than one hundred miles from here.”
“Hundred nothing!” screamed the man. “You’ll put her in winter-quarters within ten miles of this very spot or not at all; for you can’t run the engine, and you haven’t got a man aboard except me who can, and you know it.”
The furious man had stepped towards Phil, and was shaking a trembling fist in the lad’s face as he shouted these last words. Serge stood close behind him.
Just then the young mate nodded his head; both lads sprang upon the man at once, and in spite of his fierce struggles bore him to the deck. In another moment he was securely and helplessly bound.
“How do we generally dispose of mutineers aboard this ship?” asked Phil, as he regained his feet.
“Set ’em ashore, sir, and leave ’em to shift for themselves,” answered Serge, grimly.
“Very well; and as we haven’t any time to lose, you may get the dingey overboard at once. Call Isaac to help you, and tell him the reason for this extra work.”
“You don’t dare do it,” muttered the prostrate man, as Serge started to obey this order.