Without a word the captain levelled the weapon and pressed the trigger. There was a deafening report. The bullet, missing Pengelly's head by an inch, flattened itself against the steel bulkhead.
Before Cain could fire again, Pengelly sprang forward and brought the belaying-pin down upon the pirate captain's skull.
"Turn on the ventilating fan, one of you," ordered the chief mutineer. "Place reeks like a slaughter-house. Carry him on deck. He's not dead. He'll be more useful to us alive. Pass a lashing round his ankles, and when he comes to, see that he's properly lashed-up."
They bore the body of the unconscious Cain on deck, where the rest of the crew were assembled.
Of the two men—Cain and Pengelly—the hands preferred Cain. He possessed certain qualities that appealed to the crowd of lawless rascals. Pengelly did not. But it was the affair of the Bronx City that had enabled Pengelly to prevail upon the crew to mutiny. They could not understand why Cain refrained from looting her valuable cargo—why he should waste precious time in bringing the prize into Bahia Arenas when the Candide was somewhere south of Las Palmas and likely to fall an easy prey to the Alerte. The chance of capturing the Candide had gone, they decided. The Bronx City remained.
"We'll have the gold," declared Pengelly to the mustered crew. "We'll take it up the river and bury it. Then all that remains to be done is to take the Alerte to within a few miles of St. Louis—or Bathurst, if more are in favour of it—scuttle her and take to the boats. We'll have to pitch a plausible yarn and get sent home as shipwrecked mariners. Then, in due course, we recover the gold and share out."
"How about the ransom for that Admiralty inspector bloke we kidnapped?" demanded one of the crew.
"And the Cap Hoorn loot?" added another.
Pengelly assured them that they would all have equal shares in the plunder. In his own mind he felt certain that they would not. Already he counted upon getting hold of the booty entrusted to the late Captain Silas Porthoustoc. He wasn't altogether too sure about Jasper Chamfer's ransom. For a considerable time he had harboured a suspicion that Cain was feathering his own nest with the money.
"Man and arm boats," he ordered. "We'll want every available hand for this job. We've got to gut the Yankee hooker and bury the stuff before dawn."