ue; but what were three men to do with a
full-rigged ship on the stormy Atlantic? Clearly they must get aid
from their captives, or all might go to the bottom together.
Accordingly the three, with loaded weapons, went forward, and standing
at the hatchway, proposed terms to the imprisoned sailors below. Capt.
Barney acted as spokesman.

"You shall be released from confinement," cried he to the captives,
"and may now come on deck one at a time, each one bringing his weapons
with him."

The hatches were then thrown back, and the carpenter and boatswain
stood with cutlasses and muskets ready to cut down the first who
should make an offensive movement. The British saw the preparations
for their reception, and came up one at a time as ordered. As each
came up, his arms were seized and thrown overboard; and a gruff order
given for him to go forward. Before long the crew, deprived of all
means of resistance, were gathered on the forecastle. Barney then
retired to the quarter-deck, and ordered that the crew be mustered
before him.

"You are now my prisoners," said he; "and I have not only the power,
but the right, to hang every man jack of you. You seized this vessel
without any just cause, and simply because you were the stronger; and
you have further used that strength to abuse and ill-treat me and
waste my property. I do not propose to execute you, but will give you
the choice of two alternatives. You may either stay with me and work
this ship to Baltimore, there to be discharged with wages; or I will
give you a small boat with provisions, and set you adrift to shift for
yourselves. One condition I attach to the first alternative. If one
of you is seen talking with his former officers, or if one man steps
abaft the main-mast, he shall be instantly shot."

[Illustration: Barney Regains His Ship.]

The crew wasted no time in deliberation, but decided to stay with the
ship, and at once went forward on duty. Then began a fortnight of
ceaseless watchfulness and grave anxiety for Capt. Barney. At night he
never closed his eyes, but took his sleep by day in an armchair on
deck, his blunderbuss and cutlass by his side, and a sentinel ready to
awaken him at the slightest alarm. At last, however, he brought his
ship safely to Baltimore, and discharged his crew. But the memory of
that month of violence remained with him; and we shall hear of him
again as a brave sailor in the service of the United States, and an
uncompromising f