He gave me orders to head the ship for the coast of Patagonia and drive her to the southward with all possible speed. The plan that he and his closest followers had worked out was to make a landing on this wild coast and then divide into bands. After doing this they would separate and each band would work out its own salvation. They had, apparently, nothing to fear from the _Countess of Warwick_. She had been set on fire, with the survivors of her crew on board, bound securely hand and foot. Then the convicts had taken to the boats with the fixed intention of capturing the _Arrow_ and sailing away as peaceable Yankee merchantmen. So far their plans had worked out well. Six Swedes, two dagos, the cook, and steward, from the crew of the _Arrow_, joined the gang. The rest of our men were forced to go overboard, three alive and the others killed in the fracas when the mutineers came over the side. Gus, a big Swede, who had been in my watch, spoke to me the first night afterward while I stood at the edge of the poop. He was coiling down the foretopsail brace, and the crowd of convicts who had tailed on left him alone to do the work. “I had to join, Mr. Gore,” said he in a whisper, “but if there’s a way out let me know, den. I go wid you. A man only lives once. I radder be a live pirate dan a dead admiral, but if dere’s a chance, I go wid you an’ take de chance.” “Is there any other man who will stand by us?” I asked. “Aye tank dere’s de cook. He fight if dere’s a show.” “He’s enough. Let him speak with me the first chance he gets,” I said. Benson saw we were close together and probably talking, so he came up. “I say, Gore,” said he, “this is a fine night for a run. How much do we do an hour?” “About seven and a half knots,” I answered. “Will this wind hold for a long time, long enough for us to make a good many miles toward Patagonia?” I said I thought it was the trade and would hold for a couple of weeks, when we might expect to run out of it in the latitude of the River Plate. “Well, Gore,” said he, “you seem to be a capable sort of fellow, and I like you. It isn’t every man I like, now I tell you. If you do the square thing and get us to the southward of the river, not too far, but far enough so we can make a good get-away from the ship, I’ll not forget you.” “I appreciate my position thoroughly,” I answered, “and also your commendation, but what’s to become of me when we get down to where you want to leave the ship? Do I get a fair show on the beach, or am I expected to stick to the vessel?” “Well, you will go with me, if you do the right thing. I’m a square man to deal with.” I have always been suspicious of the man who proclaims his honesty to the world. I never knew a really honest man to say he was square. But this fellow’s tone and manner was so like that of many a shipping merchant I had had dealings with, I almost laughed.