He had the curiosity to look up the hatch, and made another discovery—that the stout boatswain was there, apparently keeping watch. The faithful had just marched to the quarter-deck, to indicate that they were willing to "keep their own counsel," as requested by the principal. Hyde returned to the room to report the fact. It looked like decided measures to him.
"I think we are caged," said he.
"No matter if we are," replied Raymond, with a sneer. "One thing is plain enough; they can't go to sea without us."
"No; twelve fellows can't get the anchor up, even with the help of Peaks," added Lindsley.
"O, we've got them," persisted Raymond. "We are a majority of all hands, even if you count the officers on the other side; and I happen to know they are as much dissatisfied as we are."
Hyde left the room again, and succeeded in making a count of all the seamen in the steerage.
"Humph!" snuffed he, on his return. "You counted the fellows with your elbows, Raymond. There are only forty-four in the steerage."
"Forty-four!" sneered Raymond. "Does twelve from seventy-two leave forty-four?"
"No; but twenty-eight from seventy-two leaves forty-four," retorted Hyde. "I'm sure I'm right."
Raymond was not satisfied, and counted for himself, but with no different result; and Lindsley suggested that some of the twenty-eight were on deck when the boatswain's call sounded.