RECAPTURE. 225

The Manilaman glared at him fiercely for an instant,
and then, drawing back his arm suddenly, hurled the
revolver directly at the young captain’s head with all his
strength, as at the same instant he leaped into the sea.

Involuntarily, Sam, at the wheel, shouted “Man over-
board!” and with the instincts of a sailor, Bob ran to the
davits ; but on reaching there realised how impossible it
would be to rescue the mutineer.

The brig was running at the rate of five or six knots an
hour, and there were not men enough to heave her to and
lower the boat before the unhappy wretch would have
gone to that Captain against whom no mutinous conduct
could ever prevail.

“It’s no use,” Ben shouted. “ Even if you got the boat
over in time, he would fight against being taken on board,
for he has sense enough to know that it’s only a question
of choosing between drowning or hanging, and he evi-
dently prefers the former. Come on here, let’s rout
these other fellows out.”

There was no necessity of doing very much hunting, for
the two remaining mutineers, wounded as they were, and
unarmed save in the way of knives, knew that any resist-
ance on their part would be worse than useless.

Before the young captain had time to act upon his own
command, the fellows came creeping out of their places of
concealment, throwing their weapons on the deck in front
of them in token of submission.

“Got enough of it, eh?” Ben asked, sharply.

“Yes,” Bart said, sulkily. ‘Even if I was sich a fool