stock down upon the boatswain's head, stretched him upon the deck with a
cracked skull. Swinging his weapon, the Captain dashed at the men, but a
dozen pair of hands were on him, and he was dragged down. Bently, the
first mate, who went to his assistance, was served similarly. In a few
moments they lay helpless, trussed like turkeys ready for the roasting.
The cabin passengers gathered about, white-faced, full of terror,
thinking of piracy and all its attendant horrors. Some of the women were
screaming. The sailors lifted Evan and Bently; and Done, who was watching
the turn of events, greatly agitated, was startled into a new train of
thought by a woman who had thrown herself at his feet, clinging to his
knees, crying:

'Help him! help him! They are going to do murder!'

It was Mrs. Macdougal. Done started forward, and half a dozen sailors
moved to intercept him.

'You don't mean mischief?' he said.

'Devil a bit!' replied a big Irishman. 'We'll stow them out of harm's way
till we're safe on shore, an' never a mischief will be done to annywon at
all. Come along, Captain darlin',' he added. 'Ye'll rist aisier in yer
cabin. We're goin' diggin' fer the gould, an' not all the fiends out iv
Connaught could shtop us.'

Captain and mate were bestowed under lock and key, and, like a band of
schoolboys at breaking-up, the men continued their mutinous work. One
section had started a quaint chanty; the rest caught it up presently, and
with the rhythm of the song came something like order among the
mutineers. Singing lustily, they piled their baggage into the boats, and