"Please see what Mr. Turner is doing," she said. "It is the key to my
jewel-case."

"Will you let me see it?"

"No."

"It is not the key to a jewel-case."

"It does not concern you what it is."

"It is the key to the storeroom door."

"You are stronger than I am. You look the brute. You can knock me
away and get it."

I knew then, of course, that it was the storeroom key. But I could not
take it by force. And so defiantly she faced me, so valiant was every
line of her slight figure, that I was ashamed of my impulse to push her
aside and take it. I loved her with every inch of my overgrown body,
and I did the thing she knew I would do. I bowed and left the cabin.
But I had no intention of losing the key. I could not take it by
force, but she knew as well as I did what finding it there in Turner's
room meant. Turner had locked me in. But I must be able to prove
it--my wits against hers, and the advantage mine. I had the women
under guard.

I went up on deck.

A curious spectacle revealed itself. Turner, purple with anger, was
haranguing the men, who stood amidships, huddled together, but grim and
determined withal. Burns, a little apart from the rest, was standing,
sullen, his arms folded. As Turner ceased, he took a step forward.

"You are right, Mr. Turner," he said. "It's your ship, and it's up to
you to say where she goes and how she goes, sir. But some one will
hang for this, Mr. Turner,--some one that's on this deck now; and the
bodies are going back with us--likewise the axe. There ain't going to
be a mistake--the right man is going to swing."

"That's mutiny!"

"Yes, sir," Burns acknowledged, his face paling a little. "I guess you
could call it that."

Turner swung on his heel and went below, where Jones, relieved of guard
duty by Burns, reported him locked in his room, refusing admission to
his wife and Miss Lee, both of whom had knocked on the door.

The trouble with Turner added to the general misery of the situation.
Burns got our position at noon with more or less exactness, and the
general working of the Ella went on well enough. But the situation was
indescribable. Men started if a penknife dropped, and swore if a sail
flapped. The call of the boatswain's pipe rasped their ears, and the
preparation for stowing the bodies in the jolly-boat left them unnerved
and sick. Some sort of a meal was cooked, but no one could eat;
Williams brought up, untasted, the luncheon