“Do Mrs. Turner and Miss Lee think that?”
“They feel as I do. This is a picked crew—men the Turner line has employed for years.”
“You are very brave, Mrs. Johns,” I said. “If I were what you think I am, I would be a dangerous enemy.”
“I am not afraid of you.”
I thought fast. She was right. It had not occurred to me before, but it swept over me overwhelmingly.
“You are leaving me only one thing to do,” I said. “I shall surrender myself to the men at once.” I took out my revolver and held it out to her. “This rope is a dead-line. The crew know, and you will have no trouble; but you must stand guard here until some one else is sent.”
She took the revolver without a word, and, somewhat dazed by this new turn of events, I went aft. The men were gathered there, and I surrendered myself. They listened in silence while I told them the situation. Burns, who had been trying to sleep, sat up and stared at me incredulously.
“It will leave you pretty short-handed, boys,” I finished, “but you’d better fasten me up somewhere. But I want to be sure of one thing first: whatever happens, keep the guard for the women.”
“We’d like to talk it over, Leslie,” Burns said, after a word with the others.
I went forward a few feet, taking care to remain where they could see me, and very soon they called me. There had been a dispute, I believe. Adams and McNamara stood off from the others, their faces not unfriendly, but clearly differing from the decision. Charlie Jones, who, by reason of long service and a sort of pious control he had in the forecastle, was generally spokesman for the crew, took a step or two toward me.