sailors, had witnessed Jorgensen's escape, but no one spoke.

Nearly an hour passed, and then Jim saw that two boats were coming
towards them from a distant point. At the sight of these there was a rush
of sailors. No orders had been given, but a score of men busied
themselves lowering the Francis Cadman's boats, laughing at their work
and joking uproariously. Others came singing and yelling from the
forecastle and up through the hatchways, with bundles which they piled on
the deck. All order was abolished; the jubilant cries of the sailors were
echoed back from the shores over the placid sea.

Captain Evan stood upon the deck, pale with passion, gesticulating
furiously, shouting orders that no one heard. Every time he opened his
lips the sailors responded with louder yells of cheerful derision. Evan
rushed at one of the armed sailors, cursing heroically.

'Fire on them! Fire, I tell you!' he cried.

The man paid not the slightest heed, and Captain Evan, snatching the gun
from his hands, levelled it at the boatswain.

'Down on your knees, you mutinous dog!' he thundered.

The boatswain grinned amiably, and thrust his finger into the barrel of
the piece.

'By the holy, we've spiked your gun, Captain!' he said.

Evan pulled the trigger. The cap snapped and nothing more, and now,
worked into an ungovernable passion, he clubbed his gun, and bringing the