Henley stirred as he spoke, and opened his eyes, staring up into my face, and then at the Lieutenant's uniform. The sight of the latter perplexed him.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked angrily, making an effort to rise. "Where is Broussard?"
"Henley," I said, stepping in between them, "the game is up, and the best thing you can do now is keep quiet. This gentleman is Lieutenant Hutton, of the Revenue Cutter Saline, and his men have the crew of the Sea Gull under hatches forward. Give me back those papers."
[Illustration: "Give me back those papers.">[
He had the envelope still clasped in his left hand, and he glanced at it dully, and then beyond me toward Hutton. Apparently his brain, yet numbed by the blow, failed to entirely comprehend. The Lieutenant, however, was a man of action. With grip on his collar he jerked the poor wretch to his feet, and held him there.
"Hand over those papers to Craig," he ordered shortly, "and be lively about it. I have n't anything to do with that affair, and I don't think you will have much more from now on. You are my prisoner, and you are good for a ten spot at least. Stand up, you coward." He forced him back against the rail, and glanced about the deck. The boatswain was coming aft.
"Well, Sloan, how did you find things?"
"All serene, sir; the whole crew bottled up, and mighty little fight left in them."