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

After Ostag Semmel had been placed in the brig Captain Ponsberry called all hands to him once more and related what Luke and Larry had seen. The stew was inspected, but nothing suspicious could be seen about it.

"If any of you want to try that stew you may do so," said the captain.

"Of course, if Semmel didn't touch it there can be nothing in it that can hurt you." But all, even to Peterson, declined to even taste the food. It was one thing to think Semmel innocent but quite another to run the risk of being made sick or poisoned. In the end the stew was dumped overboard and Jeff prepared an entirely new dinner for all hands.

"You must keep close watch on all of the men," said the captain to Larry and Grandon, when quietness had been restored. "Semmel was the worst of the lot, but I do not like the way Peterson and one or two others are acting."

"I don't see what they can do," answered Larry.

"They might start a mutiny," came from the first mate.

"Would they dare go as far as that?"

"Sometimes sailors get strange notions, and the old Harry himself can't stop them," said Captain Ponsberry. "A thing that in itself doesn't amount to much will start them off, and they'll imagine that everything is going wrong. When I was a lad, on board the _Mary Eliza_, Captain Snapper, we had a mutiny just because the coffee wasn't right."

"Yes, and I can remember that they had a mutiny on the old brig _Chesterfield_ because Captain Roe's wife brought a cross-eyed yellow cat on board," added Grandon. "Not a man would hoist a sail until that feline was put ash.o.r.e. And when, two months later, the brig lost her foremast in a gale, the sailors said it was on account of that same cat, she having scratched the mast before she was taken away!"

"Well, I hope we don't have a mutiny," said Larry. "I'd like to suggest something, Captain Ponsberry," he went on, to the master of the _Columbia_.

"Fire ahead, Larry."

"You know we can trust Luke Striker. Why not have him report just what the other hands are doing?"

"That's an idea, and I will act on it. Yes, I'd trust Striker as quick as I'd trust you. If there is to be trouble we certainly want to know of it as soon as possible," concluded the captain.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIGHT FOR THE SHIP

The day to follow was Sunday, and contrary to expectations, it pa.s.sed quietly. As there was hardly any wind, the old _Columbia_ made slow progress, and the sailors had little or nothing to do. As was his usual habit, Larry read his Bible, and Captain Ponsberry held a short church service, which less than half the crew attended.

"It's plain to see that the men are sulky," said Tom Grandon, towards evening. "We are certain to hear something from them shortly."

Luke had been told to report anything unusual, but it was not until after dark that he sought out Captain Ponsberry.

"I ain't got much to say," said the old tar. "But to my mind Peterson, Groot, and Shamhaven are doin' a powerful lot of confabbin'. More'n that, I saw Peterson cleaning up a pistol he's got."

"Are any of the other hands armed?"

"I ain't seen no other shootin'-irons," answered Luke.

The captain had expected to interview Semmel once more, but found the fellow so surly he gave up the attempt. As the brig was so hot and uncomfortable, the master of the schooner had the door fixed so it could be left open several inches, with a chain at the bolt to keep it from going further.

At four o'clock Monday morning Peterson came on duty, followed by Shamhaven and some others. All made their way to the bow and began to talk in a low but earnest fashion. Then Peterson went below, to where Semmel was still confined in the brig.

"We are ready to move now," said he, in Russian. "What do you think?"

"Let me out and I will show you what I think," growled Ostag Semmel.

"The captain is a dog--and Grandon and Russell are dogs, too!"

Peterson was prepared to unlock the chain which held the brig door and did so. Then he handed a pistol to the Russian.