At the Fall of Port Arthur: or, A Young American in the Japanese Navy

They continued the work, and a little later the young second mate was able to squeeze his way to the top of the cargo in that vicinity.

"Be careful, Larry," warned the captain. "If a case should shift with the ship you might get a crushed leg. You had better take a candle along."

"I will, sir."

Luke was as anxious to get into the hold as the young second mate, and he too squeezed his tall, lank form through the opening. Guided by the faint light of the candle, they crawled over a number of cases of machinery and war goods until they drew close to the middle of the ship.

"Here we are!" cried Larry, in a low voice, and pointed to some cases of canned goods. "Beans, corn, tomatoes, salt pork, condensed milk – we won't starve just yet, Luke."

"An' here are some barrels o' flour," added the old tar. "No, they can't starve us nohow now."

They had brought the chisel and hammer along, and with extra caution opened some of the cases. Taking with them all the goods they could carry, they returned to the cabin.

"This is splendid!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "With this stuff on hand we can hold the cabin indefinitely."

"How is I gwine to cook?" questioned Jeff.

"Over the two lanterns, Jeff. It will be slow work, but our time is our own. Luckily there are pots and tins in the pantry."

"All right, sah."

"Of course, I am hoping that we shall not have to stay here long," went on the captain. "But it is best to be prepared."

That those on deck might not see the cooking going on, one of the staterooms was cleaned out and Jeff went to work in this. In the meantime Semmel called down the companionway once more.

"Are you gettin' hungry?" he asked.

"Tell him yes," whispered Larry.

"Why?" questioned the captain, in an equally low tone.

"Then he'll think we are getting ready to come to terms and he won't watch us so closely."

"I see." Captain Ponsberry raised his voice. "Yes, we are hungry," he called up. "What are you going to send us, something good?"

"Ve send noddings. Maybe you talk business soon, hey?" continued the rascally Russian.

"Perhaps."

"How soon?"

"Well, perhaps to-morrow morning."

"Not before dot, hey?"

"No."

"All right den; you can go on an' starve so long!" growled Ostag Semmel, and went away. A moment later he met Shamhaven.

"What did he say?" asked the latter, anxiously.

"He comes to terms to-morrow!" answered the Russian, triumphantly.

CHAPTER VIII

TURNING THE TABLES

The meal which Jeff prepared put all in the cabin in better humor, and as soon as it was over a council of war was held.

It was decided to wait until darkness had set in, and then try to gain the deck of the ship by way of the fore hatch. In the meantime the door to the companionway was to be locked and barred, so that the mutineers could not attack them very well from that direction, should a running fight ensue.

As Jeff would be of no use in a struggle he was delegated to remain in the cabin, to make as much noise as possible, singing and talking to himself, so that the mutineers might not suspect what was taking place.

Each member of the party armed himself both with a pistol and a cutlass, and Larry led the way as before, candle in hand. It was easy for Luke to follow him, but rather difficult for the captain, who was more portly.

"Reckon as how ye shouldn't have eaten so much, captain," chuckled the old tar, as he helped Captain Ponsberry through a particularly narrow place.

"True, Striker," was the answer. "But you be careful that you don't slip into some slit between the cases and go out of sight."

They soon gained the spot where the canned goods had been found. They had now to climb over some machinery that reached nearly to the top of the hold, and then over a varied collection of boxes and barrels and bags. On the bags lay some of the old sails of the ship and several coils of discarded rope.

They were just approaching the open fore hatch when they saw a rope ladder let down. Instantly Larry uttered a warning and put out the light.

"Somebody is coming down," he whispered.

It was the sailor Wilbur, who had been sent to get some canned goods for cooking purposes. He came down the rope ladder with a lantern slung over one arm.

"We'll make him a prisoner!" cried Captain Ponsberry. "And let us do it as quietly as we can, so as not to disturb those on deck."

The others understood and crouched back in the darkness. Then, as Wilbur passed them, the captain caught him from the back and Larry clapped a hand over the fellow's mouth.

"Oh!" spluttered Wilbur, but that was as far as he got.

"Not a word! Not a sound, Wilbur!" said Captain Ponsberry, earnestly.

The sailor understood, and being a craven at heart he almost collapsed. It was an easy matter to take one of the old ropes and tie his hands behind him. Then Captain Ponsberry confronted the mutineer, making a liberal exhibition of his pistol as he did so.

"Wilbur, answer me truthfully," said the master of the Columbia. "Are you all in this mutiny or not? Don't speak above a whisper."

"I ain't in it!" whined Wilbur. "They dragged me in, they did. I ain't kicking about grub, or nothing!"

"Are all the others in it?"

"Kind of, yes. Groot didn't care much to go in. Guess he wish he was out of it now."

"What has become of Grandon and Vincent?"

"Both of 'em are prisoners in the brig."