with me?"

Suddenly a burly sailor pushed forward. He had the head of a viking.
His eyes were strong with enterprise. He had a hand like a ham, with
long, hairy fingers.

"Captain," said he, "you've put the thing so there can be only one answer
to it. As for me, I'm sick of the way this mutiny has been bungled from
first to last. There's been one good thing about it only--we've got
order without cruelty, we've rebelled without ravagement; but we've
missed the way, and we didn't deal with the Admiralty commissioners as
we ought. So I'm for joining up with the captain here"--he waved a hand
towards Dyck--"and making for open sea. As sure as God's above, they'll
try to hammer us; but it's the only way."

He held a handkerchief-a dirty, red silk thing. "See," he continued,
"the wind is right to take us out. The other ships won't know what we're
going to do until we start. I'm for getting off. I'm a pressed man. I
haven't seen my girl for five years, and they won't let me free in port
to go and see her. Nothing can be worse than what we have to suffer now,
so let's make a break for it. That's what I say. Come, now, lads, three
cheers for Captain Calhoun!"

A half-hour later, on the captain's deck, Dyck gave the order to pass
eastward. It was sunset when they started, and they had not gone a
thousand yards before some of the mutineering ships opened fire on the
Ariadne. The breeze was good, however, and she sailed bravely through
the leaden storm. Once twice--thrice she was hit, but she sped on. Two
men were killed and several were wounded. Sails were torn, and the high
bulkheads were broken; but, without firing a shot in reply, the Ariadne