“Roundhouse, there—­on deck and lend a hand!  Man the lifeboat—­lifeboat falls, there!  For God’s sake, Mister—­what’s the matter there on deck?”

Oh, he was worried, was Swope.  It showed in his voice; for once his tone was not full and musical, it was shrill and screechy.  He was sorely shaken, madly anxious to save his faithful jackal; the Eliminator had not planned Fitzgibbon’s removal.

Thoughts, questions, rushed through my mind.  I listened for other sounds, for shots and shouts and sounds of strife.  For there was confusion up there on the dark decks, and the captain had forgotten his caution and withdrawn his ambush.  I knew that Boston and Blackie would not overlook this chance; promise or no promise they would profit by this occasion.

It was this thought that spurred me to action.  We must get out of this hole we were in; the lazaret was a trap.  The die was cast; the mutiny was on—­or would be in a moment.

I said as much to my companions.  Newman attempted to get to his feet.  “A hand, Jack—­it must be stopped,” he said.

I gave him the hand.  More than that, I took him upon my back and tottered up the ladder with him, the lady assisting as well as she was able.  She knew what had happened on deck, and she told us in a word or two.

She had not been able to find Wong (we afterwards discovered that Wong had gone forward to the galley, and surprised the crew at a conference, and had been detained prisoner by them), so she crawled up the companion ladder herself, and lurked in the cuddy, waiting for a chance to speak with Lynch.  The Nigger was at the wheel, she said.  Fitzgibbon walked up to him and struck him—­as he had struck him many, many times before.  But this time Nigger did not submit—­he whipped out his knife and stabbed the mate.  More than that, he grasped the mate in his powerful arms, dragged him to the taffrail, and flung him overboard.  It happened so quickly that neither Connolly, the tradesman, nor Lynch, both of whom were on the poop, could interfere.  But Lynch took a shot at Nigger, and perhaps struck him, for Nigger went over the rail and into the sea with his victim.

It was Nigger, despised, half-lunatic Nigger, who was not in my reckoning, nor in Swope’s, who put the match to the tinder and upset such carefully laid plans.  As I feared, the revolt of the crew blazed up immediately.  My shipmates were eager, too eager.  As it turned out, their precipitancy was to cost them their chance of victory, for they began to riot while the three tradesmen were still handy to the roundhouse door, though, indeed, they had no knowledge, as had I, of the captain’s ambuscade.

I staggered into the saloon, and set Newman down upon the divan which ran around the half-round, and which was but a step from the hatch.  He got to his feet at once, and, though the lady and I stretched out our arms to catch him, this time he did not fall.  He swayed drunkenly, and hobbled when he took a step, but such was his vitality and so strong the urge of his will, that life was already returning to his misused limbs.