I returned to the Captain.  “I think the men mean mutiny,” I said.

“Good,” said Captain Bilge, rubbing his hands, “that will get rid of a lot of them, and of course,” he added musingly, looking out of the broad old-fashioned port-hole at the stern of the cabin, at the heaving waves of the South Atlantic, “I am expecting pirates at any time, and that will take out quite a few of them.  However”—­and here he pressed the bell for a cabin-boy—­“kindly ask Mr. Tompkins to step this way.”

“Tompkins,” said the Captain as the bosun’s mate entered, “be good enough to stand on the locker and stick your head through the stern port-hole, and tell me what you think of the weather.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the tar with a simplicity which caused us to exchange a quiet smile.

Tompkins stood on the locker and put his head and shoulders out of the port.

Taking a leg each we pushed him through.  We heard him plump into the sea.

“Tompkins was easy,” said Captain Bilge.  “Excuse me as I enter his death in the log.”

“Yes,” he continued presently, “it will be a great help if they mutiny.  I suppose they will, sooner or later.  It’s customary to do so.  But I shall take no step to precipitate it until we have first fallen in with pirates.  I am expecting them in these latitudes at any time.  Meantime, Mr. Blowhard,” he said, rising, “if you can continue to drop overboard one or two more each week, I shall feel extremely grateful.”

Three days later we rounded the Cape of Good Hope and entered upon the inky waters of the Indian Ocean.  Our course lay now in zigzags and, the weather being favourable, we sailed up and down at a furious rate over a sea as calm as glass.

On the fourth day a pirate ship appeared.  Reader, I do not know if you have ever seen a pirate ship.  The sight was one to appal the stoutest heart.  The entire ship was painted black, a black flag hung at the masthead, the sails were black, and on the deck people dressed all in black walked up and down arm-in-arm.  The words “Pirate Ship” were painted in white letters on the bow.  At the sight of it our crew were visibly cowed.  It was a spectacle that would have cowed a dog.

The two ships were brought side by side.  They were then lashed tightly together with bag string and binder twine, and a gang plank laid between them.  In a moment the pirates swarmed upon our deck, rolling their eyes, gnashing their teeth and filing their nails.

Then the fight began.  It lasted two hours—­with fifteen minutes off for lunch.  It was awful.  The men grappled with one another, kicked one another from behind, slapped one another across the face, and in many cases completely lost their temper and tried to bite one another.  I noticed one gigantic fellow brandishing a knotted towel, and striking right and left among our men, until Captain Bilge rushed at him and struck him flat across the mouth with a banana skin.