"Send the surgeon on board, if you please." "Ay, ay." In a few moments the third cutter, in charge of Mr. Transit, the master, put off from the ship, with Dr. De Plesion on board. "Where is Mr. Pillgrim, sir?" asked the master of Somers. "Wounded, below." "Mr. Hackleford wishes your report forthwith on board the ship." "Mr. Transit, Mr. Pillgrim is under arrest. You will permit no one to communicate with him except the surgeon." "Under arrest!" exclaimed Mr. Transit. "I have no time to explain," replied Somers, as he directed his coxswain to pipe down his boat's crew. When the second cutter was hauled up to the accommodation ladder, Somers stepped on board, and a few moments later, touched his hat to the first lieutenant on the quarter deck of the Chatauqua. "I have to report that I have captured the Ben Nevis," said Somers. "Where is Mr. Pillgrim?" asked Mr. Hackleford, the captain standing by, an interested and excited listener. "He is wounded, and under arrest, sir." "How wounded?" "He fired at me, and in self-defence I was obliged to shoot him. I think he is not seriously wounded. He boarded the Ben Nevis, and had given the captain of her permission to proceed, though the vessel was headed towards Cape Fear." "You have done well, Mr. Somers," said Captain Cascabel. "Beat to quarters, Mr. Hackleford." When the crew were at quarters, Mr. Hackleford explained to them what had occurred, and fully justified the course of the fourth lieutenant; whereupon an earnest and enthusiastic cheer rang through the ship. "Are you satisfied, Tom?" asked Somers of the boatswain. "Bless ye! I was satisfied before, Mr. Somers. There is only one dark thing in the whole of it." "What's that, Tom?" "If Captain Cascabel and Mr. Hackleford both knew that Mr. Pillgrim was a traitor, why did they send him out to capture that steamer? That's what I can't see through." "Can't you? Well, if they had not sent him, we should not have captured the Ben Nevis." "I don't see why." "Don't you? Well, you are not as sharp as you are sometimes." "I know I'm dull, Mr. Somers, but splinter my figger head if I can see through it." "The Ben Nevis is good for fifteen knots at least." "I know that; she did it while we were coming up." "The Chatauqua can't make more than twelve." "That's true." "Then, of course, the Chatauqua could not catch the Ben Nevis." "That's clear enough. But we were out in the boats, and were close aboard of her." "And just then she sheered off. Could the boats have overhauled her?" "Sartinly not; but you could have put a shot through her hull." "Which might, at that distance, have disabled her, and might not. The chances were all against us. But the moment Mr. Pillgrim hailed her, and swung his cap, she stopped her wheels. They knew very well he would not detain her." "I see now."