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PAGE 8

The Triple Alliance
by [?]

“Yes,” added Benson, “and we’ll take our prisoner with us, too!”

“Sure,” said Quincy. “Bill Rogers goes, too. Come, now, what do you say?”

“I say, by Gawd,” roared the Captain, red in the face with rage and the strain on his muscles, “that I won’t! If this ship goes back, you’ll take her back yourself, with me and my mates under duress. It’s ruinous to agree to such a proposition. I’d lose this ship and never get another.”

“Very well,” said Quincy, quietly. “Then we’ll put you fellows under arrest. And if you resist we’ll shoot you to pieces. Rogers,” he turned to the smiling helmsman, “can you steer this boat back to the United States?”

“I can’t find New York,” answered Rogers; “but the United States is due west.”

“Can you steer due west?”

“Yes; but the yards must be braced. The wind is hauling to the north, and we could make a fair wind of it.”

“Can you attend to this–bracing of the yards?”

“Yes. I’ve been second mate.”

“Right, Benson, go through them all and take away their guns, if they have any!” Then he raised his voice and called forward to the men, who had stopped work and were watching curiously the strange scene on the poop. “One of you fellows get a piece of small rope cord. Bring it up here and tie these fellows’ hands behind their backs.”

While Benson searched the pockets of the trio–finding no weapons, however–a man had secured a ball of spun yarn from the booby hatch and ran up the poop steps with it. Then, under the influence of those long, blue tubes, the Captain and the two mates lay down on their faces, while the sailor securely bound their wrists behind them.

“Now, then,” said Quincy, “you’re in command, Rogers. We’ll police this boat, and make these men obey all your orders.”

“Take the wheel here!” said Rogers to the sailor. “Stand by to wear ship!” Then he mounted the cabin, and emitted a sailorly yell to the crew. “All hands down from aloft! Weather main and lee crowjack braces!”

* * * * *

In the dawn of the following morning some early rising fishermen of the Jersey coast saw a black ship with all canvas set resting quietly on the sands about two hundred yards from the beach, a white boat, empty of everything but oars, hauled out above high-water mark, and on boarding the ship they found and released three chilled, hungry, and angry men from the lazaret. But not a sign of her crew did they see.