And so rebellion ceases; the five come off their gloomings and their grumblings, and spring to their work of sailing the brig. It is labor night and day, however, for all aboard; but the winds blow the fever away, the gales favor them, one and all they seem to have worn out the evil fortune which dogged them out of Kingston. The _King George’s Packet_ comes safe, at the last of it, into Whitehaven---first mate Jack Paul and his crew of five looking for the lack of sleep like dead folk walking the decks. Donald, Currie & Beck pay a grateful salvage on brig and cargo to first mate Jack Paul and the five, for bringing home the brig. This puts six hundred pounds into the pockets of first mate Jack Paul, and one-fifth as much into the pockets of each of the five. Then Donald, Currie & Beck have first mate Jack Paul to dinner with the firm. “We’ve got a ship for ye,” says shipowner Donald, as the wine is being passed. “Ye’re to be Captain.” “Captain!” repeats first mate Jack Paul. “A ship for me?” “Who else, then!” returns shipowner Donald. “Ay! it’s the _Crantully Castle_, four hundred tons, out o’ Plymouth for Bombay. Ye’re to be Captain; besides, ye’re to have a tenth in the cargo. And now if that suits ye, gentlemen”--addressing shipowners Currie & Beck--“let the firm of Donald, Currie & Beck fill up the glasses to the _Crantully Castle_ and its new Captain, Jack Paul.” CHAPTER IV--THE KILLING OF MUNGO Captain Jack Paul and his _Grantully Castle_ see friendly years together. They go to India, to Spain, to the West Indies, to the Mediterranean, to Africa. While Captain Jack Paul is busy with the _Grantully Castle_, piling up pounds and shillings and pence for owners Donald, Currie & Beck, he is also deep with the books, hammering at French, Spanish and German. Ashore, he makes his way into what best society he can find, being as eager to refine his manners as refine his mind, holding the one as much an education as is the other. Finally he is known in every ocean for the profundity of his learning, the polish of his deportment, the power of his fists, and the powder-like explosiveness of his temper. It is a cloudy October afternoon when Captain Jack Paul works the _Grantully Castle_ out of Plymouth, shakes free his canvas, and fills away on the starboard tack for Tobago. The crew is an evil lot, and a spirit of mutiny stirs in the ship. Captain Jack Paul, who holds that a good sailor is ever a good grumbler, can overlook a deal in favor of this aphorism; and does. On the sixth day out, however, when his first officer, Mr. Sands, staggers below with a sheath-knife through his shoulder, it makes a case to which no commander can afford to seem blind. “It was Mungo!” explains the wounded Mr. Sands. Captain Jack Paul goes on deck, and takes his stand by the main mast. “Pipe all hands aft, Mr. Cooper,” he says to the boatswain.