"Don't you now, Mr. Pirate, or I'll certainly have to load you up with
lead."

Bothwell lay on the bed, his breast heaving from his exertions. In no
man's looks have I ever seen a more furious malice, but he had sense
enough to recognize that this was our moment.

"If it ain't butting in, what were you gentlemen milling around so
active about this warm day?" asked Yeager.

"Same old point of difference. Captain Bothwell wanted a map."

Tom laughed gently.

"Sho! You hadn't ought to be so blamed urgent, cap. It don't buy you
anything."

The Russian struggled with his rage, fought it down, and again found his
ironic smile.

"I am under the impression that it would have bought me a map if it had
not been for your arrival, sir."

"Too bad I spoiled yore game, then."

"For the present," amended the defeated man. "I am a person of much
resource, Mr. Sedgwick will tell you." Then, with a glance at the bit of
plaster on my head: "He still wears a souvenir to remind him of it."

"My little adventure at San Pedro. I always, credited you with that,
captain. Thanks."

"You're entirely welcome. More to follow," he smiled.

"What are you allowing to do with your guest, Sedgwick?" asked Yeager.

"We'll leave that to Blythe. I suppose we had better put him in irons
and guard him. We can drop him off at Panama."

"Any port in a time of storm," suggested our prisoner blithely.

"Personally, I'd like to see you marooned for a few months," I growled,
for the man's insolence ruffled me.

I found Blythe on the bridge with Mott.

"I have to report a prisoner of war captured, captain," I announced in
formal military style.

Blythe laughed.

"Who is he?"

"Captain Boris Bothwell, sir."

"What!"

I told him and Mott the circumstances. The mate unbent a little.

"And the lubber shot at you? In your own cabin! Put him in irons and
throw him ashore at Panama. That's my advice, Mr. Blythe. Get rid of
him, and you'll not hear any more about this mutiny business."

"I'm of that opinion myself, Mr. Mott. We'll keep him under guard until
he's in safe custody."

Blythe followed me down to my cabin, and for the first time he and
Bothwell looked each other over.

"This isn't a passenger ship, sir," announced the owner of the _Argos_
bluntly. "You've made a mistake, sir. We'll hand you over to the
authorities at Panama."

Bothwell bowed.

"Dee-lighted! I've always wanted to see the old city of Pizarro, Drake
and Mo