I could do no less than follow our host, who led us up one flight of stairs, and thence to the rear of the building. Then he opened the door of a room and stepped back a pace, that we might advance in front of him. At the outer entrance, I led the way, and while Phil followed close at my heels, the door was slammed behind us, the clicking of iron telling that we had been locked in. For an instant I was so bewildered as to be incapable of speech, and then I heard from the other side of the locked door a mocking voice:-- "I'll keep you two Yankees here till your ship sails, and then find you a berth aboard a British whaler; it will be a paying speculation for me, and you'll have good opportunities for seeing the world." CHAPTER III. OLIVER BENSON'S SCHEME. Phil Robbins and I stood gazing into each other's eyes as if incapable of speech, during at least sixty seconds after the fellow who had trapped us announced the purpose of his scheme. That we two lads, who were of no consequence whatsoever in the sight of the officers of the _Essex_, should have been made the victims of a plot seemed too ridiculous to be true; but yet the locked door was sufficient evidence for the most incredulous. It was Phil who first found his tongue, and he asked sharply, as if positive I could give him a satisfactory answer:-- "What does the villain mean by locking us in here? He must think we are rare prizes!" "I'm not making any mistake as to what you're worth," Benson cried from the hallway. "Yankees don't bring any extravagant price in this part of the world; but the demand is so great that I won't be forced to keep you many hours after your tub of a ship leaves port." My head was so thick that even then I failed to understand his purpose, but had an idea the fellow looked upon us as his personal enemies because England was at war with the United States, and said to Phil, giving no heed to the fact that I spoke sufficiently loud for Benson to hear:-- "The fellow is such a fool as to believe he serves his country by imprisoning us." "That's where you are making a big mistake, my Yankee cub. Whalers in this portion of the world are not overly particular as to how they ship a crew, and pay a decently good price to whoever delivers them able-bodied hands." Now I understood what this enterprising Britisher had in mind. I remembered reading, before I left home, a long account of how sailors were trapped in foreign ports by the captains of whaling vessels who had lost members of their crews by death or desertion. If we could be held prisoners until there was no longer any American vessels in port, Benson might literally sell us to a British whaler; and once on board such a craft, our chances for escape or relief before the voyage had come to an end would be very small. I was overwhelmed with grief and anger. The knowledge of our helplessness increased my wrath until for a certain length of time I was little better than an insane lad.