"But Singleton?" I glanced aft.

"Singleton is going in irons," was the reply I got.

The light was stronger now, and I could see their faces. It was
clear that the crew, or a majority of the crew, believed him guilty,
and that, as far as Singleton was concerned, my authority did not
exist.

"All right," I said. "I'll do the best I can. First of all, I want
every man to give up his weapons. Burns!"

"Aye, aye."

"Go over each man. Leave them their pocket-knives; take everything
else."

The men lined up. The situation was tense, horrible, so that the
miscellaneous articles from their pockets--knives, keys, plugs of
chewing tobacco, and here and there, among the foreign ones, small
combs for beard and mustache unexpectedly brought to light, caused
a smile of pure reaction. Two revolvers from Oleson and McNamara
and one nicked razor from Adams completed the list of weapons we
found. The crew submitted willingly. They seemed relieved to have
some one to direct them, and the alacrity with which they obeyed my
orders showed how they were suffering under the strain of inaction.

I went over to Singleton and put my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Singleton," I said, "but I'll have to ask you for