“Who goes there?”

“I’m Bill Noakes, the best man in the islands.”

“What do you want aboard this ship?”

“I’ve heard of Capt.  Ned Blakely, and one of us is a better man than ’tother—­I’ll know which, before I go ashore.”

“You’ve come to the right shop—­I’m your man.  I’ll learn you to come aboard this ship without an invite.”

He seized Noakes, backed him against the mainmast, pounded his face to a pulp, and then threw him overboard.

Noakes was not convinced.  He returned the next night, got the pulp renewed, and went overboard head first, as before.

He was satisfied.

A week after this, while Noakes was carousing with a sailor crowd on shore, at noonday, Capt.  Ned’s colored mate came along, and Noakes tried to pick a quarrel with him.  The negro evaded the trap, and tried to get away.  Noakes followed him up; the negro began to run; Noakes fired on him with a revolver and killed him.  Half a dozen sea-captains witnessed the whole affair.  Noakes retreated to the small after-cabin of his ship, with two other bullies, and gave out that death would be the portion of any man that intruded there.  There was no attempt made to follow the villains; there was no disposition to do it, and indeed very little thought of such an enterprise.  There were no courts and no officers; there was no government; the islands belonged to Peru, and Peru was far away; she had no official representative on the ground; and neither had any other nation.

However, Capt.  Ned was not perplexing his head about such things.  They concerned him not.  He was boiling with rage and furious for justice.  At nine o’clock at night he loaded a double-barreled gun with slugs, fished out a pair of handcuffs, got a ship’s lantern, summoned his quartermaster, and went ashore.  He said: 

“Do you see that ship there at the dock?”

“Ay-ay, sir.”

“It’s the Venus.”

“Ay-ay, sir.”

“You—­you know me.”

“Ay-ay, sir.”

“Very well, then.  Take the lantern.  Carry it just under your chin.  I’ll walk behind you and rest this gun-barrel on your shoulder, p’inting forward—­so.  Keep your lantern well up so’s I can see things ahead of you good.  I’m going to march in on Noakes—­and take him—­and jug the other chaps.  If you flinch—­well, you know me.”

“Ay-ay, sir.”

In this order they filed aboard softly, arrived at Noakes’s den, the quartermaster pushed the door open, and the lantern revealed the three desperadoes sitting on the floor.  Capt.  Ned said: 

“I’m Ned Blakely.  I’ve got you under fire.  Don’t you move without orders—­any of you.  You two kneel down in the corner; faces to the wall —­now.  Bill Noakes, put these handcuffs on; now come up close.  Quartermaster, fasten ’em.  All right.  Don’t stir, sir.  Quartermaster, put the key in the outside of the door.  Now, men, I’m going to lock you two in; and if you try to burst through this door—­well, you’ve heard of me.  Bill Noakes, fall in ahead, and march.  All set.  Quartermaster, lock the door.”