“Which she ’ad no cook coming out, sir; but one of the seamen did the cooking.” “Why do you call him Captain Farrongate when his name is Scoble?” “The ship’s company all called ’im Captain Scoble till a few days ago, and then we were all told to call ’im Captain Farrongate, which it is true we all called ’im after that.” “Did you know that all the persons who came on board this forenoon were kidnapped, and that two of us were confined under the lower hatch?” “Kidnapped! Bless my body, no sir! I never ’eard a word said about any such thing sir!” protested the cook, with energy enough to be telling the truth. “Didn’t any of the hands say anything to you about it? Didn’t they tell you they had put the hatches on when two of us went into the lower hold to examine the vessel?” “Not a word about it, sir; which I mind my business, sir, and I have nothing to do with the foremast hands except to give them a kid of beef and a dish of h’ard bread.” The party wondered if this man was telling the truth. Louis stated that he had seen but three men leave the Maud at the time she was sunk, which confirmed a part of the cook’s story, that he had been on board but about two weeks, and had not come from England in her. “We have made some changes about the schooner, cook, and we should like to know how you stand. Captain Scoble has been put in irons, and is locked up in the starboard stateroom,” added Captain Ringgold, in an impressive manner. “We were all kidnapped, including the lady in this stateroom, and Scoble was intending to take her and her son, and perhaps the rest of us, to England. We have taken possession of the vessel, and I mean to take her to New York.” “The captain in irons! Bless my body!” exclaimed the cook, apparently overwhelmed by the news. “It is just as I state it, and the noise you heard was made by Captain Scoble, trying to get out of the room where we have confined him. But we have bound him hand and foot, and made him fast to the front of the berth, so that he can do nothing more to help himself. Now, my man, do you want to fight on Scoble’s side?” “Bless my body! No, sir! Which I always run away when a fight is coming on,” protested Bickling. “If you wish to take part in this conspiracy with Scoble and the mate, I shall be under the necessity of binding you hand and foot, and making you fast to a stanchion. You will obey no order given by Scoble or the mate,” continued the shipmaster, taking from his hip-pocket one of the revolvers with which Louis had provided him. “Bless my body! Revolvers!” groaned the cook, as though one had already been fired at him; for both of the boys imitated the example of the captain and produced their weapons, though the exhibition was only for its moral effect. “I see you have the hupper ’ands, sir, and I will obey your orders in all things.”