"I have no weapon, sir," Billie Blue told me.
I had brought up with me from below a repeating rifle, so I handed him one of my revolvers and an Italian dirk that had been hanging on the wall as an ornament.
The second door I ordered locked. Putting my head out of one of the windows I counted the enemy as they stood grouped near the stairway from the main deck. Bothwell was in the lead, followed by Caine. At their heels trooped both engineers, the three firemen, the cook, Johnson, Mack, Gallagher, Dennis, Smith, and Neidlinger. It was not easy to count them, because they shifted to and fro, but I was almost sure they were fourteen. The boatswain carried in his hand a towel, which he was waving.
"Crew to have a conference with you, Cap'n Blythe," he called out.
"I hold no conference with armed mutineers," Blythe called back sternly.
He was standing in the wheelhouse, rifle in hand. Beside him was the curly head of Tom Yeager.
"This here ship's company offers to do the square thing, share and share alike, cap'n," boomed out the boatswain. "We wants a bit of that there treasure, and by Moses! we're going to have it. But we don't want no bloodshed, cap'n."
"Then get back to duty in a hurry, my man!"
George Fleming spoke up.
"Give us that map and we'll put your party ashore safe, sir."