"Certainly," said Henshaw; "I even know every word that Hovey said to you." McTee turned crimson. "I have eyes that see everything on the ship," went on Henshaw, as if he wished to cover the embarrassment of the Scotchman, "and I have ears which hear everything. I have lines of information tangled through the forecastle. I can almost guess what they are about to think, let alone what they will speak or do. The blockheads are always planning a mutiny, though I confess none of them have ever taken the proportions of this one. However, this will go the way of the rest." "The way of the rest?" queried McTee almost stupidly. "Yes. They plan to hold their action till we're close to the land. About that time I'll call up one or two of the ring-leaders and tell them just what they have planned to do. That'll make them think I have unknown means of meeting the mutiny. It will die." McTee sat down, loosened his shirt at the throat, and gaped upon Henshaw as a child might gape upon a magician. "I don't blame you for taking a day to think over the temptation," smiled the old buccaneer. "The gold I showed you would have tempted any man. But I'm glad you came to me. I expected you last night. It took you a little longer to settle the details in your mind, eh?" "Henshaw, I feel like a yellow dog!" "Come! Come! You're a man after my own heart. You took the temptation in your hand--you looked it over--and then you turned away from it. Well, and suppose the mutiny should actually come to the breaking point; they would be right in thinking I have means of fighting them. I have no firearms on the ship; they know that. They don't know that I have these." He went into the next room and returned carrying a heavy box. This he placed on the desk and took a small, heavy ball of metal from it. "A bomb?" queried McTee. "It is. The moment a group gathers, one of these tossed among them will end the mutiny the moment it begins." McTee handed back the bomb in silence. There was something about this cold-blooded way of speaking of death which was not cruelty--it was something greater--it was an absolute disregard of life. "Of course," said Henshaw, as he came back from depositing the box in the next room, "there are only half a dozen of those bombs, but that will be enough. The explosion of a couple of them would just about wreck the deck. However, the mutiny will never reach the point of action. I'll see to that. What always ties the hands of the crew is that it lacks real leaders. Hovey, for instance, will turn to water when I say three words about the mutiny to him." "But Harrigan," said McTee quietly, "will not." "The Irishman!" Henshaw muttered. "I forgot. McTee, I'm getting old!" "Only careless," answered the other, "but it's a bad thing to be careless where Harrigan is concerned. A man like that, Henshaw, could lead your mutineers, and lead them well. Hovey told me that every one of the crew looks up to the Irishman."