“All right, Bickling. Now you will go on deck and tell the mate all you have learned, and we will be with you in a few minutes,” said the captain; and the cook made all haste to get out of the reach of the revolvers. “I measured that man about right,” said Louis, after Bickling had gone. “I did not look for any powerful opposition from him.” “As he says, he minds his own business, and don’t care who is king. Probably we shall have to serve Mr. Fobbington as we have the captain.” “His name is Frinks; and I think he is a smarter man than Scoble; but I am sure we can handle him.” “I am used to this sort of thing, Louis, for I once had occasion to put down a mutiny on the north-west coast. Frinks may give us some trouble; but the seamen will be about such fellows as Bickling. They work for their wages, and don’t care who is captain of the ship. Now, Louis, we will go on deck, and when I have seen what the wind and weather are, I shall know what we had better do in a nautical point of view.” Louis expected there would be some sort of a brush with Frinks, for he must be familiar with the whole length and breadth of the plot to capture Louis and his mother. He could not plead ignorance of the designs of Scoble, for he had really managed the whole affair. The stick with which the rebellious passenger had intimidated Scoble lay on the floor where he had left it, and he picked it up, ready to make use of it with regret if occasion should require. It was not an easy thing for the landsmen to mount the companion-stairs, for the Maud was leaping like a running horse, and the sea was breaking over her bows at every plunge she made. The two seamen had been driven to the shelter of the caboose, for there was nothing for them to do. The scene on the quarter-deck, where the mate still kept the wheel, was likely to be a stormy one in a double sense. Bickling had not yet finished his story relating to the condition of things in the cabin. Frinks was plainly very much interested, and the situation had evidently been anticipated by him. Louis had told Captain Ringgold all he knew about Frinks, who was a good deal of a humorist; but whether or not he was a fighting character was yet to be ascertained, though in the opinion of the shipmaster it did not make much difference. “I salute you, Mr. Frinks,” said the captain, politely addressing the mate. “You have heard the whole story from the cook, and I suppose there is nothing more to be said of a descriptive nature.” “Who the dickens are you, my fine fellow?” demanded Frinks, who knew nothing at all about the gentleman who addressed him. “Well, sir, I am Captain Royal Ringgold; and I have been to sea enough to see that you are handling this craft in a very lubberly fashion; and I am about to relieve you of the helm, and have the vessel better managed.”