He had become panic-stricken, he said, and so had the crew. The engineer had run up on deck, and there was no one to shut off steam. I knew the man was lying, and told our captain so, whereupon he pressed the muzzle of his revolver against the other’s forehead.
“Now question him,” he said.
I did so, but the captain simply relapsed into the condition of his crew, and not another word could I get out of him.
“It’s no use,” I said to our captain, “these people don’t mind being shot in the least. You might massacre the whole lot, and yet not get a word of truth out of any one of them previous to their extinction. Nevertheless, until you kill them they are in some wholesome fear of firearms, so if you keep the drop on the captain and his men I’ll penetrate this deck-house and see what it contains.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said our captain, “they’re treacherous dogs, I imagine, and, while afraid to meet us in broad daylight on deck here, they might prove mighty handy with the knife in the darkness of that shanty. No, send the captain in and order him to bring out all his officers, if he’s got any.”
This seemed practical advice, so, asking our captain to remove his revolver from the other’s forehead, I said to the latter:
“How many officers have you?”
He answered that there were five.
“Very well, go and bring them all out on deck here.”