“Ay-ay, sir.”
“Very well, then. Take the lantern. Carry it just under your chin. I’ll walk behind you and rest this gun-barrel on your shoulder, p’inting forward—so. Keep your lantern well up so’s I can see things ahead of you good. I’m going to march in on Noakes—and take him—and jug the other chaps. If you flinch—well, you know me.”
“Ay-ay, sir.”
In this order they filed aboard softly, arrived at Noakes’s den, the quartermaster pushed the door open, and the lantern revealed the three desperadoes sitting on the floor. Capt. Ned said:
“I’m Ned Blakely. I’ve got you under fire. Don’t you move without orders—any of you. You two kneel down in the corner; faces to the wall—now. Bill Noakes, put these handcuffs on; now come up close. Quartermaster, fasten ’em. All right. Don’t stir, sir. Quartermaster, put the key in the outside of the door. Now, men, I’m going to lock you two in; and if you try to burst through this door—well, you’ve heard of me. Bill Noakes, fall in ahead, and march. All set. Quartermaster, lock the door.”
Noakes spent the night on board Blakely’s ship, a prisoner under strict guard. Early in the morning Capt. Ned called in all the sea-captains in the harbor and invited them, with nautical ceremony, to be present on board his ship at nine o’clock to witness the hanging of Noakes at the yard-arm!
“What! The man has not been tried.”
“Of course he hasn’t. But didn’t he kill the nigger?”