After the eight o’clock muster, when my watch was sent below, I slipped around the corner of the roundhouse, where the tradesmen lived (it was on the maindeck, between the mainmast and the after-hatch) and crouched there in the darkness while my mates trooped forward.  This roundhouse (which was really square, of course, like most roundhouses on board ship) was very plentifully supplied with ports.  Designedly so, no doubt, for it was the cabin’s outpost.  There were two portholes in its forward wall, commanding the foredeck, and three portholes in either of the side walls.  The door to the house was in the after wall.  It was built like a fortress, and used as one.

As I lay there on the deck, pressed against the forward wall, I saw the muzzles of shotguns sticking out of the portholes above my head.  There was no light showing in the roundhouse, but the tradesmen were in there just the same.  Aye, and prepared and alert.  They were covering the deck with guns; and I knew they would continue to cover the deck throughout that night.

Oh, Swope was canny, as canny as he was cruel.  He would provoke mutiny, but he would run no chance of losing his ship or his life.  He was prepared.  What could a few revolvers do against these entrenched men?  My shipmates’ revolt could have but one end—­mass murder and defeat!

So I thought, as I lay there on the deck, watching my chance to slip aft.  Swope’s plan, Swope’s mutiny, I thought.  Swope was the soul of the whole vile business.  His plan—­and I was going to spoil it!  I was going to put a bullet in his black heart.

I might have picked him off at that very moment, if I aimed carefully.  For, as my mates’ footsteps died away forward, I edged around the corner of the roundhouse, and saw the enemy standing on the poop.  The three of them were there, both mates, with the skipper standing between them.  I picked him out of the group easily, even in the darkness, for he was of much slighter build than either of his officers, and besides I heard his voice.

“The rats have discovered some courage—­but they’ll lose it soon enough, when they face our reception,” I heard him say.  “But—­no nodding to-night, Misters!  Keep your eyes and ears open!”

Fitzgibbon mumbled something.  The captain laughed his soft, tinkling laugh.

“I’m going down to take a look at him now,” he said, and the three of them moved aft, out of sight.

Aye, I might have picked him off then.  But I didn’t even entertain the thought.  It was no part of my plan to slay from concealment.  I was the hero, the avenger, the saviour!  I meant to face him in his own lighted cabin.

The door of the roundhouse was closed, so I did not fear the inmates would observe me entering the cabin.  The break of the poop seemed clear of life.  I scuttled on my hands and knees until I was past the booby-hatch; then I arose to my feet and flitted noiselessly to the cabin door.  I opened it just wide enough to admit my body, and stepped into the lighted cabin alleyway.