His return would, of course, render my presence on the hulk unnecessary, and there would be nothing further for me to do but to receive whatever payment Mullen proposed to give me, wish him and my supposed brother good-bye and come ashore. Thence I should make straight for the coastguard station and inform the officer in charge that the notorious Captain Shannon was at that moment in hiding on the “Cuban Queen” disguised as a woman. The rest would be easy, for I had hit upon a plan by which, providing that I could count upon the necessary assistance at the proper moment, the fugitive could be secured without difficulty or danger, and I saw no reason why the newspaper placards of the morning after Hughes’s return should not bear the startling announcement, “Arrest of Captain Shannon.” CHAPTER XXXI THE ARREST OF CAPTAIN SHANNON Six o’clock next morning saw the red jersey, which was to recall Hughes, slung over the ship’s side, and the preconcerted reply signalled from the upper window of the cottage. From then until nightfall I had to possess my soul in patience, and never in my life has time hung so heavily on my hands as on that eventful day. Mullen, who had been up since daybreak, was watching the shipping with the liveliest interest. By standing on the steps of the cockpit he could, without being seen himself, get a distant view of every vessel that passed up or down the great waterway of the Thames. He was inclined to be friendly, even talkative, and only once was there a recurrence of the irritability he had manifested on the previous evening. It happened in this wise. Some fishing lines were in the cabin, and being badly in want of something to make the time pass, I baited them with shreds of raw herring, and threw them over the ship’s side. I got a “bite” directly, but, on hauling up, found it came from a crab about as big as a five-shilling piece, whom I tenderly detached from the inhospitable hook and restored to his native element. I rebaited, sent the lead whizzing overboard, and again brought up a crab. “Come to look for the other one, I suppose,” I said to myself. “His wife, perhaps. I’ll treat her kindly,” and crab number two rejoined its dear ones. Again I rebaited, again there was a bite, and again a crab clawing wildly at the air appeared at the end of the line. “H’m--a sister this time, or perhaps a daughter. Back she goes, however,” and crab number three popped safely overboard, only to be succeeded by crab number four. “These are Scotch crabs, I should think,” I grumbled, “they’re so clannish;” but him too I sent on his way rejoicing. Then a fifth appeared on the scene. “Oh, hang it all!” I growled. “I shall never get any fish if the crabs eat up my bait as fast as I put it on. I hoped that last was an orphan, but it seems as if I had struck another family gathering.” Crab number six added insult to injury by refusing to let go the bait, though I turned him over on his back and shook him till he rattled.