The captain of the _Mary Thomas_ shrugged his shoulders in seeming
indifference, and turned away. Although they may restrain all outward
show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close
to tears. Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the
wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a
strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if
he attempted to speak he would sob instead.

And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men. No weakness before
them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune.
He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the
hopelessness of the situation. As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence
was all against him. So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down
the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander.

The Russian officer now took temporary charge. He ordered more of his
men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away.
While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the
two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great
towing-bitts on the schooner's forecastle-head. During all this work
the sealers stood about in sullen groups. It was madness to think of
resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but
they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy
silence.

Having accomplished his task, the lieutenant ordered all but four of his
men back into the boat. Then the midshipman, a lad of sixteen, looking
strangely mature and dignified in his uniform and sword, came aboard to
take command of the captured sealer. Just as the lieutenant prepared to