Murad had been forced to ship some of the toughest rascals in Baltimore in order to complete his crew. They were men who had gotten into trouble through acts of violence ashore, and were forced to take to sea. They, too, had heard rumors that Murad was a spy in the employ of the Barbary powers, but it did not seem to bother them. I am of the opinion that they meant to seize the vessel before it had sailed out of sight of the Atlantic coast.

If such was their plan, Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, was their chief obstacle. He was a fearless, muscular man, and a belaying-pin in his hand was a deadly weapon. Even in a plain fist fight he was equal to two of them. He was not overfond of the Egyptian, yet he was the sort of person who stuck to a task once he had entered on it.

He suspected Steve Dunn and his crowd of an intention to murder the officers and seize the ship, and told the skipper of his suspicions. Murad gave orders that we should be mustered before him. We were under the guns of an American frigate when the orders were issued, and the crew obeyed promptly.

"You men have far more weapons on your persons than is necessary," the Egyptian said smoothly. "In the interest of good fellowship, and to keep you from slashing and shooting at each other, I desire you to leave your knives and pistols in my care. Mr. Bludsoe, you will search the men's berths and bags and bring to me for safe-keeping any weapons you find!"

I saw sullen glances exchanged by Steve Dunn, Mulligan and other members of the crew.

"We ain't none of us planning any trouble among ourselves!" said Steve. "We don't know when this here vessel is going to be boarded by pirates and we want our weapons handy!"

"Handy they shall be!" said Murad, still smiling. "It would be too bad to start ill-feeling between you and me by your disobeying this, my first request. It would bode ill for our voyage. I was once an admiral in the Sultan's navy. I know how to make men obey orders. I should hate to have to ask the captain of yonder frigate to send a crew aboard to help me make my crew obey. Throw down your knives. You have them sharpened to a point that makes an honest man shiver. My good fellows, show me what a good crew I have by obeying me—at once!"

His voice rang on the last two words. The men dropped their dirks on the deck. There was a motion of Steve's hand towards the inside of his shirt as the skipper stooped to pick up one of the knives, but Murad seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

"Look, Mr. Bludsoe," he said, straightening himself swiftly, "Steve Dunn has a second knife that he wants to give up!"

He pulled a pistol from his pocket. "Give us the hidden knives too, men! This pistol might go off if I am kept waiting too long!"

Mr. Bludsoe had returned with an armful of weapons. He deposited them at the skipper's back and went down the line, feeling for dirks. He found two. Ending his search, he ordered the men to go forward.

In spite of these precautions, the men continued to grow rebellious. The man who relieved Samuel Childs at the wheel disobeyed orders. When Mr. Bludsoe scolded him he gave impudence.

After a scuffle, in which several of the loyal members of the crew, including Samuel Childs and myself, went to Mr. Bludsoe's assistance, this man, Bryan by name, was put in irons.

"Holystone the decks!" the next order given after this episode, brought no response from seven members of the crew. They outnumbered the officers and the loyal sailors. If we had not taken possession of their arms, we should have been in a bad way. The men came forward towards the Egyptian.

"Release Bryan if you want us to work!" Steve called.

"I am the master of this ship!" said Murad calmly, "Bryan is in irons for disobedience. Others of the crew who refuse to obey orders will be treated as mutineers. You know the punishment for that! Holystone the decks!"

They folded their arms and stood glowering at the skipper.

"I shall starve them into submission!" Murad said to the mate.

Two days passed. The men stayed forward. The officers made no attempt to give them orders. Fortunately, the weather remained calm, and the few of us who were loyal were sufficient to handle the sails. If a tempest came, we would be in a serious situation.

"They will attack like starved wolves tonight!" said Mr. Bludsoe to Burke, Ross and myself, "I shall give each of you a pistol. Your own lives are at stake. Shoot any man of them who comes aft."

The first man who came aft, however, we did not shoot.

I was the first to catch sight of his figure stealing away from the forecastle. I fear that my voice trembled when I cried:

"Halt! Throw up your hands!"

"It's Reynolds," he said, "Take me to the skipper. I want to throw myself on his mercy. Intercede for me, lad. I've had my fill of that gang yonder!"

The captain and mate had joined me. "It's the first break in their ranks," he said, "and I'll take advantage of the chance to show them that they can still surrender without being strung up."

He turned to me.

"Give Reynolds biscuits and coffee! He will take the wheel after that, and if he fails us there we'll——"

He whirled his hand around his neck and then pointed to a yardarm in a way that emphasized his meaning far more than words could have done.

The surrender of Reynolds led us to hope that others were on the verge of yielding. We questioned Reynolds as he ate ravenously the food we brought him. He was whole-heartedly aiding us now, because he knew that if the mutineers triumphed it would go hard with him.

He said that if we could show the men that we were powerful enough to conquer Steve Dunn and Mulligan, the ringleaders, the others would be glad to go back to work.

"It's those two who're to blame for us not yielding sooner," he explained. "We had planned twelve hours ago to come out and throw ourselves on the skipper's mercy, but Mulligan knocked me down when I suggested it. He thought that he had me cowed, and that I would be afraid to make any further attempt. He stationed me as a guard at the forecastle scuttle tonight, while he planned with the others just how they would attack you. If they could get rid of the skipper and the mate, they thought it would be easy to bring the others over to their side. I expect they'll be crawling out very soon to make the attempt."

"Captain," said Mr. Bludsoe, "I think I can end this. There are lads in that forecastle whom I don't want to see hung for mutiny. They resent our trying to starve them into submission, and I'm afraid the longer they go without food, the more desperate they'll become. May I promise them that if they come forth peacefully and go to work you will take no steps to enforce the laws against them?"

Murad had been plainly worried by the rebellion. We were out of the track of American frigates, and we still had a long voyage before us. If a storm came, the few loyal men would find themselves overtaxed in managing the vessel, and while they were endeavoring to save the ship, the mutineers would have an opportunity to do murder.

I could not help wondering, too, whether the Egyptian was not fearful as to the effect the mutiny would have on his treasure hunt, for the more I studied him, the deeper became my conviction that he had secured possession of the rector's secret, and, under the pretext of going on a trading voyage, was off on a solitary treasure quest. One of my duties was to keep the cabin clean and tidy, and when opportunity offered I had poked in chests and cubby-holes to see if I could find the rector's map of the treasure country. My hurried searches had failed thus far.

Thoughts kindred to mine must have been running through Murad's mind, for he consented to Mr. Bludsoe's proposal.

"But I warn you against entering the forecastle!" he said, "Better talk to them at a distance. Keep them well covered with your pistols. They've found weapons!"

The mate went forward. I had conceived a strong admiration for him, and, on an impulse I followed his shadowy figure as it crept along the starboard side, past the galley, towards the forecastle hatchway. Ross and Burke, not to be outdone, strung along behind us.

Mr. Bludsoe had reached the forecastle hatch without meeting a person. I expected to hear him yell his message down the hatchway, which was open, but instead I saw his black figure leap into the yellow glare that came up from the forecastle lantern. He had leaped down into the room.

I crept up to the scuttle, and leaned down the hatchway, cutlass in hand. I was determined to fight in the mate's defence if necessary, though I knew that my cutlass, with only a youth's arm behind it, was a poor weapon against desperate men, even if they were only armed with dirks.

The men had been standing in the center of the forecastle, and seemed to have been on the verge of rushing forth to attack us. Reynold's desertion had not been noted by them, and they had evidently thought that the person leaping into the room was their sentinel. The mate's spring, therefore, took them by surprise. They glanced uncertainly up the ladder, saw the flash of my cutlass, and thought that our entire force was back of Mr. Bludsoe. It was a reasonable conclusion, for who would have dreamed that the mate would have done so bold a thing.

Knives flashed. "Here's one of them," Steve cried, "thought he'd starved the strength out of us, I reckon. We'll show him!"

Bludsoe put his back against the ladder and leveled his pistols at the most menacing mutineers.

"Men," he said, "I can kill four of you before you down me. There are others waiting to take care of the rest. Listen—I haven't come down here to shoot—I'm trying to end this row and save you from the gallows. Some of you have never been in trouble before. Some of you are married men. It's no use trying to budge the skipper. You won't get a bite to eat until you start to work. If you hold out another twelve hours the chances are some frigate will see our signals and take you to where you'll get short shrift. Come now, throw down your knives and——"

A heavy boot, viciously aimed, knocked me aside. Its owner jumped across my body and leapt towards the scuttle.

I saw the huge bulk of Mulligan pass me. He had been out to reconnoiter and we had passed him in the darkness.

"Look out! Mulligan's behind you!" I cried.

A shot was fired.

I crept in despair towards the hatchway. I was unable to interpret from the sounds and curses that issued from the forecastle what had happened, and feared that I should see Mr. Bludsoe trampled upon by those he had tried to rescue from their own folly. Yet, as I raised my head to peer down, I heard his voice ring out:

"There's no need for anyone else to pay the price Mulligan has paid. Down with your weapons!"

Dirks and pistols clattered to the deck. Some of the points of the knives stuck into the timber. I looked at these shivering blades and thanked Providence that they had found lodging there instead of in the mate's breast.

Out they came, sullen but subdued. Mr. Bludsoe drove them aft with his pistol points.

"Thank you, lad," he said, as he passed me, "I owe my life to you!"

I peered down into the forecastle. Under the smoky lamp lay Mulligan—a huge, motionless mass. Blood flowed from his temple.

The wind had died; the sun was hidden in haze; the sky darkened; the barometer fell. "We'll be in the midst of a tempest soon," Samuel Childs whispered to me, "if the rebels had held out they might have had the ship at their mercy."

"Call all hands to shorten sail," the skipper said calmly to Mr. Bludsoe.

The ship was made snug; the sails were furled; the spars, water casks, and boats were lashed; the hatches were battened down.

Seeing that the men were thoroughly cowed, the skipper passed the word to the cook to serve them with breakfast. From the galley came the sound of pots and pans. The peace meal was ready.