n the piano sounded the notes of "Dixie" Evelyn's voice rose alone,
clear and full-throated as that of a lark.

After being relieved by Alderson I turned in and slept round the clock.
The tune of drumming engines was in my ears when I woke.

"Sam is making her walk," I thought, and when I reached the deck I
learned that we had entered the Gulf of Panama. A long, low line showed
dimly in the foggy distance to the left. We were running parallel with
it, Prieto Point directly in front of us.

With the exception of the older Fleming, who had been transferred to the
same cabin as Bothwell, all the crew were at work. Only the true men,
however, were armed. From the looks cast by the former mutineers toward
the blurred shore line it was plain that they looked forward to Panama
with anxiety.

In the canal zone, with the flag of the United States flying to the
breeze, the law would give them short shrift. We observed that whenever
their duties permitted it, they drew uneasily together in earnest talk.

Blythe smiled grimly.

"Our friends don't like the wages of sin, now that pay day is at hand.
I'll give you two to one, Jack, that before an hour is up you'll see a
delegation to the captain."

He was right. As Sam stepped down from the bridge, having turned the
wheel over to Alderson, he was approached timidly by Neidlinger and
Gallagher. Higgins, in partial payment for his share in the revolt, was
taking a turn at shoveling coal in the stifling furnace room.

Gallagher touched his hat humbly.

"We'd like a word with you, Captain Blythe."

"I thought Bothwell was your captain?"

The sailor flushed.

"No, sir. We're through with him."

"Now that he's a prisoner?" suggested Sam.

"We wish we'd never let him bamboozle us, sir. It would 'a' been a sight
better for a lot of poor fellows if we'd never seen him. That man's a
devil, sir."

"Indeed!"

As he stood there, a lean brown man straight as a ramrod, efficient to
the last inch of him, it struck me that the mutineers would get justice
rather than mercy from our captain.

The sailor moistened his dry lips and went on.

"Captain Blythe, we--we're sorry we let ourselves be led
into--into----"

Gallagher stumbled for a word. Sam supplied it quietly:

"Mutiny."

"Yes, sir; if you want to put it that way, sir."

"How else can I put it?"

"We were led astray by that man Bothwell, sir. He promised there would
be no bloodshed. We're sorry, sir."

"I don't do