“Who among you has any complaint to make?” he asked of the men. There was no response, and he repeated the question. “Don’t be afraid,” he encouraged them. “The ‘Bellerephon’ will protect you. If you have any complaint to make, step out and make it. We will see that you get fair play and, if necessary, take you on board.” No one moved, and after waiting some time the lieutenant turned to me with the remark that everything seemed to be all right. I told him I had heard of no complaints from any of the men and asked why they had “stood us up.” “Why, there is a shirt out forward,” he explained. I suggested that perhaps some of the crew had been washing. Hearing my remark a quick-witted fellow named Bill Johnson, who had shipped on my first trip with the “Juliette,” stepped out and said he had washed his shirt that morning and hung it in the chains to dry, without knowing that it meant anything. “I’ve been a sailor for a good many years but that is one signal I never heard of before,” he said. “Is that true, Bill?” asked the lieutenant with what seemed like just a shade of suspicion. “It is, sir,” replied Bill with the steady gaze of an honest man. “He is a ‘True Bill’ all right,” I told the young officer as I shot a grateful look at the grizzled sailor that meant a raise in wages. “He is the oldest man on the ship and one of the best. That shirt signal is a new one on me, too, and I thought I knew all the signs of the sea.” “Very good, sir,” he replied. “It is quite evidently a mistake.” He then returned to the “Bellerephon,” which answered our salute, and we squared away for Costa Rica. My mind was free from any further fear of capture, for a stiff breeze was singing over our quarter, and I knew by the time the old warship could get to Kingston and start after us again we would be well out of reach. As soon as she was hull down I mustered the crew aft and complimented Bill on his ready wit and rewarded it. He was with me for years after that and was never known by any other name than “True Bill.” I then reminded the men that, in accordance with my invariable rule when running contraband, I had told all of them the exact nature of our voyage before we were out of sight of land and had offered to set ashore any who did not wish to undertake it, while those who stayed with me were to receive double pay, and a bonus out of the profits in addition, in consideration of the hazardous nature of the trip. “Therefore,” I told them, “the treachery of Donovan has not only endangered your extra pay and bonus but also placed your freedom in jeopardy. As he was one of your number I will turn him over to you for such punishment as you think his case deserves. I, of course, reserve the right to review your verdict, but I do not believe you will be too lenient with him.” The crew welcomed this announcement with cheers, which could not be regarded as a good omen for the traitor, and a court-martial was organized, with the “bos’n” at the head of it.