n, as though he had picked this spot to guard, even in drunken
sleep, the sacred after cabin. Denman's heart felt a little twinge of
pain as he softly untied and withdrew the big fellow's neckerchief and
bound his hands behind him. Sampson snored on through the process.

The same with the others. Kelly, Daniels, and Billings lay near the
after funnel; Munson, Casey, Dwyer, and King were in the scuppers
amidships; Riley, Davis, and Hawkes were huddled close to the
pilot-house; and not a man moved in protest as Denman bound them, one
and all, with their own neckerchiefs. There was one more, the stricken
Jenkins in the forecastle; and Denman descended and examined him by the
light of a match. He was awake, and blinked and grimaced at Denman,
striving to speak.

"Sorry for you, Jenkins," said Billie. "You'll get well in time, but
you'll have to wait. You're harmless enough now, however."

There was more to do before he felt secure of his victory. He must tie
their ankles; and, as neckerchiefs had run out, he sought, by the light
of matches, the "bos'n's locker" in the fore peak. Here he found spun
yarn, and, cutting enough lengths of it, he came up and finished the
job, tying knots so hard and seamanly that the strongest fingers of a
fellow prisoner could not untie them. Then he went aft.

Forsythe was still unconscious. But he regained his senses while Denman
dragged him up the steps and forward beside his enemy, Sampson; and he
emitted various sulphurous comments on the situation that cannot be
recorded here.

Denman wanted the weapons; but, with engines dead, there was no light
save from his very small supply of matches, and for the simple, and
perhaps very natural, desire to save these for his cigar lights, he
forbore a search for them beyond an examination of each man's pockets.
He found nothing, however. It seemed that they must have agreed upon
disarmament before the drinking began. But from Forsythe he secured a
bunch of keys, which he was to find useful later on.

All else was well. Each man was bound hand and foot, Jenkins was still a
living corpse; and Forsythe, the soberest of the lot, had apparently
succumbed to the hard knocks of the day, and gone to sleep again. So
Denman went down, held a jubilant conversation with Florrie through the
keyhole, and returned to the deck, where, with a short spanner in his
hand--replevined from the engine room for use in case of an
emergency--he spent the night on watch;