Part 23 (2/2)
”What are you allowing to do with your guest, Sedgwick?” asked Yeager.
”We'll leave that to Blythe. I suppose we had better put him in irons and guard him. We can drop him off at Panama.”
”Any port in a time of storm,” suggested our prisoner blithely.
”Personally, I'd like to see you marooned for a few months,” I growled, for the man's insolence ruffled me.
I found Blythe on the bridge with Mott.
”I have to report a prisoner of war captured, captain,” I announced in formal military style.
Blythe laughed.
”Who is he?”
”Captain Boris Bothwell, sir.”
”What!”
I told him and Mott the circ.u.mstances. The mate unbent a little.
”And the lubber shot at you? In your own cabin! Put him in irons and throw him ash.o.r.e at Panama. That's my advice, Mr. Blythe. Get rid of him, and you'll not hear any more about this mutiny business.”
”I'm of that opinion myself, Mr. Mott. We'll keep him under guard until he's in safe custody.”
Blythe followed me down to my cabin, and for the first time he and Bothwell looked each other over.
”This isn't a pa.s.senger s.h.i.+p, sir,” announced the owner of the _Argos_ bluntly. ”You've made a mistake, sir. We'll hand you over to the authorities at Panama.”
Bothwell bowed.
”Dee-lighted! I've always wanted to see the old city of Pizarro, Drake and Morgan. Many a galleon has been looted of ingots and bullion by the old seadogs there. If I weren't so conscientious, by Jupiter, I'd turn pirate myself.”
”Haven't a doubt of it,” Blythe a.s.sented curtly. ”We'll try to see that your opportunities don't match your inclinations. Unless I guess wrong you wouldn't hesitate to cut a throat to escape if your hands were free.”
”Not at all.”
”Just so. Merely as a formality we'll take the precaution of making sure you haven't any weapons that might go off and injure you--or anybody else. Jack, may I trouble you to look in my cabin for a pair of handcuffs--middle right hand drawer of my dressing table?”
We made our prisoner secure and spelled each other watching him. The first three hours fell to me. Except the Arizonian I think all of us felt a weight lifted from our hearts. The chief villain was in our hands and the mutiny nipped in the bud.
But Bothwell had managed to inject a fly into the ointment of my content.
”We've drawn your sting now,” Blythe had told him before he left.
”Have you? Bet you a pony I'll be free inside of twenty-four hours,” the Russian had coolly answered.
<script>