At my stern command the others also crawled forth into the sunlight, where Carlson and I followed them, leaving the forecastle deserted.

I felt that I must dispose of these fellows before attempting anything else, and scarcely took time to glance about.

They were huddled in a little bunch around the outstretched body of Cochose, helpless from lack of leadership.
"Pick up the negro; yes, you fellows.

Now aft with him--all of you." We halted at the main hatch, and I had the cover slipped to one side, the armed sailors gathering close about the edge, as I peered down.

It was a scene of pandemonium, revealed in the yellow flame of slush lanterns, a group of white faces showing clearly, as the prisoners below struggled forward, gesticulating and shouting.