"Not I," said Pengelly.
While the Alerte held her own, Pengelly adhered to his resolution not to eat humble pie. But when, in the course of the afternoon, the pursuing vessel began to gain rapidly, he yielded to the importunities of the gunner, the bo'sun, and the majority of the crew.
"Look here, Trevorrick," he began, addressing his former partner and skipper by the name by which he was known at Polkyll Creek; "'spose we let bygones be bygones? Will you take charge of the ship and submerge her when we make Bahia Arenas?"
Cain looked him straight in the face. Pengelly could not bear the other's gaze. Unsteadily he averted his eves.
"I'll submerge when I'm captain of the Alerte again, not before," replied Cain.
"Three cheers for Cap'n Cain!" shouted one of the hands, several of whom had followed the deputation aft.
At that moment a plugged shell shrieked past the pirate submarine, throwing up a huge column of spray as it ricochetted to strike the surface of the water a good five hundred yards ahead of the ship.
Pengelly made no protest to the demonstration in favour of the ex-captain. Followed by Marchant he returned to the bridge.
"Carry on, sir!" shouted half a dozen of the pirates.
Some one cast off the lashings that secured Cain's wrists. The bo'sun slipped an automatic into his hand. With a grim smile, Cain went forward and ascended the bridge ladder.