TURNING THE TABLES
The meal which Jeff prepared put all in the cabin in better humor, and
as soon as it was over a council of war was held.
It was decided to wait until darkness had set in, and then try to gain
the deck of the ship by way of the fore hatch. In the meantime the door
to the companionway was to be locked and barred, so that the mutineers
could not attack them very well from that direction, should a running
fight ensue.
As Jeff would be of no use in a struggle he was delegated to remain in
the cabin, to make as much noise as possible, singing and talking to
himself, so that the mutineers might not suspect what was taking place.
Each member of the party armed himself both with a pistol and a cutlass,
and Larry led the way as before, candle in hand. It was easy for Luke to
follow him, but rather difficult for the captain, who was more portly.
"Reckon as how ye shouldn't have eaten so much, captain," chuckled the
old tar, as he helped Captain Ponsberry through a particularly narrow
place.
"True, Striker," was the answer. "But you be careful that you don't slip
into some slit between the cases and go out of sight."
They soon gained the spot where the canned goods had been found. They
had now to climb over some machinery that reached nearly to the top of
the hold, and then over a varied collection of boxes and barrels and
bags. On the bags lay some of the old sails of the ship and several
coils of discarded rope.
They were just approaching the open fore hatch when they saw a rope
ladder let down. Instantly Larry uttered a warning and put out the
light.
"Somebody is coming down," he whispered.
It was the sailor Wilbur, who had been sent to get some canned goods for
cooking purposes. He came down the rope ladder with a lantern slung over
one arm.
"We'll make him a prisoner!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "And let us do it
as quietly as we can, so as not to disturb those on deck."
The others understood and crouched back in the darkness. Then, as Wilbur
passed them, the captain caught him from the back and Larry clapped a
hand over the fellow's mouth.
"Oh!" spluttered Wilbur, but that was as far as he got.
"Not a word! Not a sound, Wilbur!" said Captain Ponsberry, earnestly.
The sailor understood, and being a craven at heart he almost collapsed.
It was an easy matter to take one of the old ropes and tie his hands
behind him. Then Captain Ponsberry confronted the mutineer, making a
liberal exhibition of his pistol as he did so.
"Wilbur, answer me truthfully," said the master of the _Columbia_. "Are
you all in this mutiny or not? Don't speak above a whisper."
"I ain't in it!" whined Wilbur. "They dragged me in, they did. I ain't
kicking about grub, or nothing!"
"Are all the others in it?"
"Kind of, yes. Groot didn't care much to go in. Guess he wish he was out
of it now."
"What has become of Grandon and Vincent?"
"Both of 'em are prisoners in the brig."
"Are they wounded?"
"Not much. Grandon had his thumb cut and Vincent got a kick in the back
that lamed him."
"Is anybody guarding them?"
"I guess not. All of 'em have got to drinking again. Say, captain, let
me out of this fix and I'll never go against you again, never,"
continued Wilbur, earnestly.
"We'll see about that later," was the grim reply.
"Captain Ponsberry, I have a scheme," put in Larry, and he drew the
master of the ship to one side. "Wilbur is about the same build as
myself. Let me take his coat and cap and go on deck and down to the
brig. If I can release Grandon and Vincent we'll be sure to knock out
the mutiny in no time."
"It's a dangerous game, Larry."
"Oh, please let me do it!" pleaded the young second mate. The hazard was
one which appealed to him strongly.
The matter was talked over for a few minutes and it was decided to let
Larry have his way. Wilbur was soon stripped of his coat and the young
second mate donned the garment. Then he took the mutineer's cap and
pulled it as far over his brow as possible and turned up the coat
collar.
"I'll leave the lantern here," he said, and a second later was mounting
the rope ladder slowly and cautiously.
With his head on a level with the deck Larry paused to reconnoiter the
situation. He knew exactly how dangerous his mission was and that he was
running the risk of being shot. But his life in our navy had made him
bold, and seeing nobody in sight, he leaped out on deck, and hurried
with all speed to the ladder leading to the brig. Soon he was in front
of the barred door.
"Grandon! Vincent!" he called, softly.
"Hullo, who's that?" came in the voice of the first mate.
"It is I, Larry. Is Vincent there?"
"Yes. Where did you come from?"
"The cabin." Larry unbarred the door. "Are you hurt?"
"Not much. How are you?"
"I am all right, and so are the captain and Luke Striker. They are in
the hold, ready to come on deck. We have made Wilbur a prisoner."
"Good enough," came from the boatswain. "The rascals! They ought all to
walk the plank!" he added, vehemently.
The two men had their hands tied behind them, but it was an easy matter
for Larry to liberate them. Then each provided himself with a belaying
pin, and all three of the party stole to the deck.
From the forecastle and the cook's galley came loud talking, showing
that the mutineers were making themselves at home. One man was trying to
do some cooking.
"What's keeping Wilbur so long?" he demanded of the others.
Nobody knew, and one of the crowd, the sailor named Groot, volunteered
to look the missing one up.
"Let us follow him to the hatch," whispered Larry. "Perhaps we can make
him a prisoner."
"Right you are," answered Tom Grandon.
With caution they came up behind the man, and just as Groot leaned over
the open hatchway, they caught him tightly.
"Keep silent, Groot!" said Grandon. "Keep silent, or we'll throw you
overboard."
"Stop!" roared the mutineer. "Help! hel----"
He got no further, for raising his belaying pin, Vincent brought it down
on the mutineer's head. Groot had been the one to lame the boatswain's
back and the latter had not forgotten it. Over went the fellow and sank
down as if dead.
"Drop him into the hold," ordered Grandon, and this was done just as
Captain Ponsberry and Luke Striker appeared at the foot of the rope
ladder.
"Another, eh?" said the master of the _Columbia_. "Good enough! How are
you, Tom? How are you, Vincent?"
"We're ready to fight 'em," answered the first mate. "Come on! They've
got so much liquor aboard they can't do much to us!"
"Be careful, I don't want anybody shot if it can be avoided," responded
Captain Ponsberry.
"I think it would be a good plan to dump them all into the hold," said
Larry. "Then we could nail up that pantry door, put the hatch into
place, and keep them at our mercy."
"If the plan will work, it's a good one," answered the captain.
One after another they came out on deck, leaving Wilbur and Groot in the
hold. They found the mutineers equally divided between the galley and
the forecastle. The only man in charge of the schooner was Conroy, who
was at the wheel.
As they advanced upon the forecastle they saw Semmel come out,
accompanied by Peterson.
"There are the ringleaders!" cried Captain Ponsberry, and rushing up to
them he exclaimed: "Surrender, you rascals!" And he aimed his pistol,
while the others also raised their weapons.
The Russian and his companion were taken completely by surprise, and
before they could draw any weapons of their own it was too late. Grandon
tripped one up and fell upon him, and then Vincent and Larry tripped up
the other. There was a brief scuffle, the exchange of several blows
which did little damage, and in a trice Semmel and Peterson were thrown
down into the hold bodily, and the ladder was hauled up out of their
reach.
"Put that hatch over the opening," cried Captain Ponsberry to Larry.
"And then go into the cabin pantry and nail up that door. Be quick about
it, or they may get out!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" cried the young second mate, and ran off with all
speed. The hatch was large and heavy, but the excitement lent him
strength and he dragged it forward and threw it over the hatchway.
"Stop dat!" roared Semmel, in a drunken voice, but Larry paid no
attention. His next movement was toward the cabin.
"Don't yo' tech me!" roared Jeff, in alarm. "Oh, it am yo'!" he added,
as he recognized Larry. "How am de battle gwine?"
"We've got 'em on the run--four are prisoners in the hold," was Larry's
reply. "Get me that box of nails, Jeff--I must put that door back as it
was!"
"Yes, sah; yes, sah!" answered the cook, eagerly, and brought forth the
nails in question. Then he helped to put the door into place, and held
it while Larry nailed the barrier. The job was just completed when the
young second mate heard voices from the hold.
"Hi, dare, you let us out," came from Peterson. "Ve vill mak it right,
yes!"
"You keep quiet," ordered Larry, and would say no more. Against the door
he and Jeff placed several trunks and boxes taken from the staterooms
opening off of the cabin.
During this time the party led by Captain Ponsberry had attacked the
balance of the mutineers. There was a brief fight and Shamhaven got a
cutlass cut on the knee. But then the men surrendered, and one after
another was made to drop down into the hold, and the hatch was shut and
battened down.
The only man who was not thus made a prisoner was Conroy, who begged at
once to be forgiven.
"They got me to drink, captain," he pleaded. "I didn't know what I was
doing. Forgive it, and I'll be the best man you ever had on board."
"Can I depend upon you, Conroy?" asked Captain Ponsberry, sternly.
"You can, sir--I give you my word on it."
"You won't try to help the mutineers?"
"No, sir; no, sir!"
"Very well then, I'll try you. But, remember, if you try any dirty work
it will go hard with you. Now tell me, was Wilbur in favor of this
mutiny?"
"No, sir, he was not. Semmel forced him into it."
"What of the others. Who were the ringleaders?"
"Semmel and Peterson and Shamhaven. The others didn't want to do
anything but complain about the grub," answered Conroy, and then told
the particulars of the mutiny from beginning to end.