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

"I jess see that air Semmel go in and out o' the cook's galley."

"That is just what I am reporting!" cried Larry. "Did you see what he did, Luke?"

"No. He wasn't in there only a minit. It looked suspicious to me, though – with all hands gittin' sick from the grub."

"This is all the evidence I want," said Captain Ponsberry. "We'll soon make an end of this. Larry, send Semmel to me."

The young second mate left the cabin with Luke and both hurried toward the bow, where Semmel and Peterson were conversing in low tones.

"The captain wants to see you at once," said Larry to the bearded sailor.

His tone was so sharp it made Semmel start.

"Vat he vants?" he queried.

"Go and find out for yourself."

"Maybe you git me in droubles, hey?" and the bearded sailor scowled.

"I reckon as how you're gittin' yourself into trouble," drawled Luke, dryly.

"You keep your mouf shut!" cried Semmel. "I no talk to you, no!"

"The captain wants you to report; are you going to do so or not?" demanded Larry.

"Sure I go," answered Semmel, with a toss of his head, and he slouched toward the stern. His manner was so aggressive that Larry picked up a belaying pin before following him.

Captain Ponsberry had just appeared on deck. He had armed himself with a short club, – a sure sign to those who knew him that something unusual was in the wind. His face was stern and forbidding, and all hands gathered around to see what was the trouble.

"Semmel, I want to have a talk with you," he said, in a loud voice, as the bearded sailor came up.

To this the sailor nodded but did not answer.

"I want to know what you were doing in the cook's galley a short while ago."

"De cook's galley?" The sailor acted as if he was puzzled. "I no go by de galley, captain."

"You were in the galley and you put something into the stew-pot. What was it?" thundered Captain Ponsberry. "Tell me the truth, or I may take it into my head to break every bone in your body!" And he shook his club in the sailor's face.

"I put noddings in de pot," cried Semmel. "I no go in de galley – I no been in de galley two, tree days. It is a lie!"

"I saw you go in," came from Luke.

"And so did I," added Larry. "And I saw you sprinkle something into the pot."

"What, did dat good-fo'-nuffin furiner put somet'ing in ma eatin'?" shrieked Jeff, who had come up. "Oh, – yo' – yo' – "

"Never mind, Jeff, I'll attend to this," interrupted the captain.

"Yes, sah, but dat monkey-faced – "

"Never mind now – fall back there," added the captain, and the cook fell back, but shook his fist at Semmel.

"I not in de galley," reiterated the bearded sailor. "Russell an' Striker no tell de truth."

"It is true," cried Larry.

"Thet's so, an' you can't squirm out o' it," broke in Luke. "I saw ye as plain as day."

"I want to know what you put into that stew-pot?" continued Captain Ponsberry.

"I no go near de galley. I – "

"I know you went into the galley and I know you put something into the stew. For the last time I ask you, what was it?"

For reply Ostag Semmel simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you going to tell me the truth?"

"I reckon the truth ain't in him," grumbled Luke, under his breath.

"I say noddings more," came sourly from the bearded sailor.

"Put that man in irons," commanded Captain Ponsberry, turning quickly to Larry and Grandon. "If he won't talk now, perhaps he'll talk after he has spent a day in the brig."

"Vat! you put me in irons!" shrieked Semmel. "You no got right to do dat, no!"

"Haven't I?" answered Captain Ponsberry, in a voice that cut like a whip. "I'd like to see anybody dispute over it. Larry, Tom, do as I command."

"Yes, sir," answered Larry, and ran off to get a pair of handcuffs while Tom Grandon stationed himself beside Ostag Semmel, belaying pin in hand.

"You no mak me a prisoner!" fumed the bearded sailor. "You got no right!"

He continued to rave, saying that it was a plot against him, because he had been the first to complain about the vile food served to the hands; that he had not been near the galley and that the captain, Grandon, and Larry knew it. He even appealed to the other sailors to stand by him, and several came forward to argue with Captain Ponsberry. But the master of the schooner was obstinate and would not listen.

"I know what I am doing, men," he said, quickly but firmly. "He is a scoundrel and a spell in the brig will do him good. After this I reckon you'll find the grub all right."

"I no like – " began Peterson, once more.

"You shut up, Peterson, or I'll put you in the brig with Semmel," cut in the captain, and Peterson fell back with the rest, but with a brow that was dark and distrustful.

By this time Larry had returned with the handcuffs and despite the resistance he offered, Ostag Semmel was made a prisoner. Then the first and the second mates led him to the schooner's brig, – a narrow, V-shaped room in the bow of the boat, usually used for storing lanterns and oil. The smell in the closet – for it was nothing else – was far from pleasant, and a day in the brig usually made a prisoner repent and promise to do better.

"I mak trouble for dis!" growled Semmel, as the door was closed and bolted on him. "I mak trouble, yes! You got no right to do dis, no!"

"And you haven't any right to doctor the grub," answered Larry, and then he and Grandon walked away.

"That fellow is a first-class villain, to my way of reasoning," was the first mate's comment. "I believe he'd do almost anything to get square for this."