They were not so impressed as I had expected—or perhaps they had known all along. Sailors are a secretive lot.
“I’m thinking we’ll all be getting a rest soon,” a voice said. “What are you going to do with them knives?”
I had an inspiration. “I’m going to leave that to you men,” I said. “You may throw them overboard, if you wish—but, if you do, take out the needles and the silk; we may need them.”
There followed a savage but restrained argument among the men. Jones, from the tent, called out irritably:—
“Don’t be fools, you fellows. This happened while Leslie was asleep. I’ll swear he never moved after he lay down.”
The crew reached a decision shortly after that, and came to me in a body.
“We think,” Oleson said, “that we’ll lock them in the captain’s cabin, with the axe.”
“Very well,” I said. “Burns has the key around his neck.”
Clarke, I think it was, went into the tent, and came out again directly.
“There’s no key around his neck,” he said gruffly.