In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

For answer the captain did the most foolish thing he could have done under the circumstances. He sprang upon the speaker, doubtless with the intention of throwing him down, and passing over him to the middle hatch. Perhaps he thought that with a quick rush he could reach it and let out the prisoners before the watch could prevent him.

But he had underestimated the quickness and strength of Master Blinn. Leaping to one side, the Midshipman avoided his antagonist, and himself became the attacker instead of the attacked. Grappling the Englishman by the waist, he called loudly for his men to come to his aid. I sprang forward to assist him, but two of the watch were before me, and when I reached his side, the burly Captain was subdued. Two minutes later he was in the hold with the other prisoners.

I quickly acquainted my executive officer with what I had seen and heard in the cabin, and so explained how I came to be on the deck so promptly. Then I said warmly—forgetting all titles in my appreciation of Master Blinn’s good work:

“But I hardly was needed here, Tom. You were too alert for the Captain. No one could have done better. I shall make a full report of your part in this affair to Captain Tucker.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” he replied heartily, dropping into the same familiar strain. “But shall I go down after Master Rollins and put him in the brig?”

“No, I think not, at least at present,” I replied. “I judge he is one who leaves the risky part of his schemes for someone else to do, and so we have nothing to fear in that direction. Still, we’ll keep a sharp eye on him, and put him under arrest the moment we see any reason for doing so. Now I’ll go back to my room and finish out my watch below.”

I lay awake some time after reaching my berth, and heard our passenger moving uneasily about his room. Once he cautiously opened his door, and looked out into the cabin, but he made no other attempt to investigate into the captain’s whereabouts, so I went to sleep.

At breakfast, however, he ventured to inquire if Captain Williamson was sick.

“No,” I answered, “he was foolish enough last night to try to liberate the prisoners, but Midshipman Blinn was on the alert, and put him into the hold with them.”

He ate uneasily after that, and soon after, excusing himself, went back to his stateroom. Two hours later he sent for me, and, wondering what this move on his part meant, I slipped a pistol into my pocket, and went down to see him.