Aboard the Lucky Star, Captain Black called Johnny Tott to his cabin. It was a serious moment for both, as both knew. The hunter realized that the captain would act upon his statement, and that there would be no return, once the course was taken. Moreover, he knew that he would have to take oath, and support that oath with evidence, in the court-room at St. John's.

"Now, John, I wants just the plainest kind o' truth," the captain began, for, shorn of his exaggerated dignity, he was a fair, honest-hearted man. "I've been friends with Cap'n Hand ever since we was young, an' I've liked him every hour o' that time, an' I've believed in him every minute; so I'm in no humour t' have a fallin' out with him. It'll go hard with the man who wrongfully leads me into that. Come, now, what's the truth o' all this?"

"The truth, sir," Johnny replied, slowly, "is this: We left twenty-two tows on the ice last night, every one with a Bryan & Company flag flyin' over it, an' we found but sixteen this mornin'. That's all I knows about it."

"Did you make the count alone?"

"No, sir. They was three others, which," most importantly, "I can pro-dooce any minute."

"All right, Johnny," said the captain, striking the table with his fist. "I believe you. You won't find Cap'n Black go back on his crew. I'll have that fat, if I have t' fight for it!"

While this was passing, Captain Hand had summoned Bill o' Burnt Bay, Ebenezer Bowsprit and two or three other trustworthy men to his cabin, and requested Archie Armstrong (the good captain seemed to consider the lad in some measure a representative of the firm) to hear the interview. One and all, for themselves and for the crew, they earnestly denied knowledge of any trickery. They regretted, they said, that the incident had occurred; but they believed that the seals were the property of the ship, and they hoped that the captain would not "see them robbed."

"But, Bill," said the captain, hopelessly, "you didn't count the tows?"

"No, sir," Bill answered, promptly, "I'm bound t' say I didn't. After your two recall guns, sir, we was in a hurry t' get aboard. 'Twas a fault, I knows, sir, but it can't be helped now. I don't know that anybody changed the flags. I hasn't any reason t' think so. So I believe that the fat's ours."

"Well, men," the captain concluded, "that's just my position. I knows nothin' t' the contrary; so I got t' believe that the fat's ours. You'll tell the crew that I'll stand by them. We'll take that fat, whatever they tries t' do, an' we'll let the courts decide afterwards. That's all."

There was fret and uncertainty for the captain after the men trooped out. He was an honest man, seeking the right, but not sure that he was right. It seemed to him that, whatever the outcome, his reputation and that of the firm would be tarnished. In a trial at law, the crew of the Lucky Star and the firm of Alexander Bryan & Company would appear as the aggrieved parties. Men would say—yes, men would even publicly take oath to it—that Captain Hand was a thief, and that the firm of Armstrong & Son abused its power and wealth in sustaining him. Not everybody would believe that, of course; but many would—and the odium of the charge would never disappear, let the verdict of the jury be what it might.

"B'y," he said to Archie, in great distress, "'tis a tryin' place t' be in. I wants t' wrong nobody. 'Twould wound me sore t' wrong Cap'n Black, who's always been my friend. But I got t' have that fat. A sealin' skipper that goes back on his crew is not fit for command. I must stand by the men. If I had an enemy, b'y," he added, "an' that enemy wanted t' ruin me, he couldn't choose a better——"

Captain Hand stopped dead and stared at the table—stared, and gaped, until his appearance was altogether out of the common.

"What's the matter, cap'n?" asked Archie, alarmed.

At that moment, however, there was a knock at the door. Billy Topsail came in, pale and wide-eyed; but the sight of Archie seemed to compose him.

"I got t' tell you about Tim Tuttle," he began, hurriedly. "I hears there's goin' t' be a fight, an'—an'—I got t' tell you that I seed him change the flags on the tows."

"What!" shouted the captain, jumping out of his chair.

And so it all came out. At the end of the talk, Billy Topsail was assured by the smiling captain that he need not fear Tim Tuttle after a word or two had been spoken with him. Bill o' Burnt Bay was summoned, and corroborated Billy's statement that Tuttle was the last man to leave the tows. And Tuttle was the captain's enemy! Everybody knew it. The difficulties were thus all brushed away. The crew would accept the explanation and be content. Tuttle would be ridiculed until he was well punished for the trick that had so nearly succeeded. It was a good ending to the affair—a far better outcome than any man aboard had dared hope for.

"Bill," said the captain, with an odd little smile, "send Tim Tuttle t' Cap'n Black, with my compliments; an' will Cap'n Black be so kind as t' accept my apology, and have a friendly cup o' tea with me immediate?"

Later, when Tuttle left the captain's cabin, after the "word or two" had been spoken, he was not grateful for the generous treatment he had received. He meditated further mischief; but before the second opportunity offered, there happened something which put animosity out of the hearts of all the crew.