“Do you surrender? or shall I blow your brains out?” yelled Jack, as Tom Longstone tumbled into the wheel-house. At this moment, the boat stopped; for Mr. Gordon, the engineer, had prudently taken possession of the machinery as soon as he came on board, to prevent the pilot from running the boat aground. “Mind the helm, Jack, and I’ll settle this ’ere chap,” said Tom, as he approached the pilot, and thrust his pistol in his face. “Who are you?” growled Lunsley, retreating into the corner of the wheel-house. “I’ll larn ye who I am, you black-hearted traitor!” added Tom, as he seized him by the collar. “Hands off, my old joker!” replied the pilot, shaking off his grasp; for he was a powerful man. “All right, my hearty! If you don’t surrender like a Christian, I’ll send you down to Davy Jones!” Tom evidently intended to put a pistol-ball through his head; but Jack begged him not to cheat the gallows of its due. After some further parley, Lunsley concluded to surrender, and gave up his pistols, which he had had no opportunity to take from his pockets. He was handed over to a couple of marines, and secured in a safe place. The cotton-steamer had now come to a dead stand. All the white men on board had been secured, including the captain, mate, clerk, engineers, and two pilots. The firemen were negroes; and, being by nature loyal, they were not molested. “Our victory is complete,” said Mr. Dickey, who had now made his way to the wheel-house. “I beg your honor’s pardon,” said Jack; “but there’s a battery of artillery on shore, and we had better not stay up here too long.” “I don’t ask your advice, quartermaster,” replied the commander of the expedition. “I beg your honor’s pardon,” added Jack with becoming humility. Mr. Dickey walked down the hurricane-deck, and back, and then returned to the wheel-house. “Strike one bell, quartermaster!” added he. Jack obeyed the order, and the steamer started. “Will your honor please to give me the course I am to steer?” asked Jack meekly. “Down the stream, of course!” replied Mr. Dickey. “I am no pilot, sir, for these waters; and she may stick hard and fast before we go ahead five fathoms.” “Strike two bells, quartermaster!” “Two bells, sir!” repeated Jack. “We have no pilot, certainly,” said Mr. Dickey, more nervously; “but we must go ahead.” “If your honor would send the boat ahead to sound, we could work her down very well,” suggested Jack, when he saw that the accomplished Mr. Dickey was absolutely at his wits’ end for an expedient. The commander was graciously pleased to adopt this plan; and Tom Longstone was ordered to take one of the steamer’s lanterns, and sound out the channel in the boat. The veteran quartermaster took the lead from the forecastle, and proceeded to execute the order.