“Do you really think,” I interrupted, “that it _is_ safe for the Doctor to cross the Atlantic without any regular seamen on his ship?” You see it had upset me quite a good deal to find that all the things we had been doing were wrong; and I was beginning to wonder what might happen if we ran into a storm—particularly as Miranda had only said the weather would be good for a certain time; and we seemed to be having so many delays. But Polynesia merely tossed her head scornfully. “Oh, bless you, my boy,” said she, “you’re always safe with John Dolittle. Remember that. Don’t take any notice of that stupid old salt. Of course it is perfectly true the Doctor does do everything wrong. But with him it doesn’t matter. Mark my words, if you travel with John Dolittle you always get there, as you heard him say. I’ve been with him lots of times and I know. Sometimes the ship is upside down when you get there, and sometimes it’s right way up. But you get there just the same. And then of course there’s another thing about the Doctor,” she added thoughtfully: “he always has extraordinary good luck. He may have his troubles; but with him things seem to have a habit of turning out all right in the end. I remember once when we were going through the Straits of Magellan the wind was so strong—” “But what are we going to do about Ben Butcher?” Jip put in. “You had some plan Polynesia, hadn’t you?” “Yes. What I’m afraid of is that he may hit the Doctor on the head when he’s not looking and make himself captain of the _Curlew_. Bad sailors do that sometimes. Then they run the ship their own way and take it where they want. That’s what you call a mutiny.” “Yes,” said Jip, “and we ought to do something pretty quick. We can’t reach the Capa Blancas before the day after to-morrow at best. I don’t like to leave the Doctor alone with him for a minute. He smells like a very bad man to me.” “Well, I’ve got it all worked out,” said Polynesia. “Listen: is there a key in that door?” We looked outside the dining-room and found that there was. “All right,” said Polynesia. “Now Bumpo lays the table for lunch and we all go and hide. Then at twelve o’clock Bumpo rings the dinner-bell down here. As soon as Ben hears it he’ll come down expecting more salt beef. Bumpo must hide behind the door outside. The moment that Ben is seated at the dining-table Bumpo slams the door and locks it. Then we’ve got him. See?” “How stratagenious!” Bumpo chuckled. “As Cicero said, _parrots cum parishioners facilime congregation_. I’ll lay the table at once.” “Yes and take that Worcestershire sauce off the dresser with you when you go out,” said Polynesia. “Don’t leave any loose eatables around. That fellow has had enough to last any man for three days. Besides, he won’t be so inclined to start a fight when we put him ashore at the Capa Blancas if we thin him down a bit before we let him out.”